In all these considerations Tricoupi stands as much the type and impersonation of the modern Greek in his best phase, and the Hellenic cause lost in his early death the largest exponent of the characteristics of the race I have ever known, but, as fate had it, lost him only when his abilities could only serve to mitigate disaster and accentuate failure. Had he been alive, I am convinced that the disaster of 1897 would not have taken place, and, if a conflict was, through the ignorant impetuosity of the masses, unavoidable, it would have resulted more creditably to the Greek army, not in victory indeed, for this was under the circumstances not to be hoped for, but in a defeat which was not irretrievable.
The campaign finished, I returned to Florence, where, during the lull in Eastern matters, I found my only public occupation in the contest with regard to the restoration of ancient buildings in Italy. Those who can remember the aspect of the Ducal Palace and St. Mark's in those years, shored up to prevent large portions of them from falling in crumbling ruin into the Piazza, and can see that now at least the general aspect of the perfect building is preserved, and in the case of the Ducal Palace even the details of the most important decorative elements restored with a fidelity which defies examination, will hardly be inclined to resent the restorations which have abolished the hideous balks of timber and bulkheads of most of the southern and western façades. The southwest angle of the Palace was prevented only by massive shoring from falling bodily into the Piazzetta. The anti-restoration society in England had raised a great outcry over the works, which had, however, been going on without criticism during the Austrian occupation since 1840; and, after a thorough examination of the state of the two precious buildings, and the plans and appliances for their restoration, I undertook the defense of the restorers, and the hot controversy in the "Times" and other journals on the subject resulted in the confirmation of the authorities in their resolution to continue the works which have left the Ducal Palace at least in a condition to be seen for a few hundred years to come, and relieved the church of the scaffolds and bulkheads which disfigured it up to 1890. The works in St. Mark's reëstablished in more than its original solidity the south flank, which was in such a state of ruin that only the abundant shoring had prevented the façade from top to bottom from falling bodily into the Piazza.
On the other hand, I found at Florence that the authorities, in anticipation of the completion of the present splendid façade of the Duomo, had decided to refresh the entire surface of the flanks to put them in keeping with the new sculpture of the front, and had actually inaugurated the system of removing with acids, followed by the chisel, of all the toned surface of the sculptured parts so that the Duomo should, when the façade was revealed, present the aspect of a bride-cake in the brilliant whiteness of its marble, but without a touch remaining of the workmanship of its original architects and sculptors. At this juncture the editor of the "Cornhill Magazine" asked me for an article on the restorations in Italy, and I profited by the invitation to write a scathing article on the cleaning up of the Duomo, which, falling under the attention of the government at Rome, provoked a telegram ordering peremptorily the cessation of all restoration on the church. I received the thanks of the Italian ministry and the formal request to inform it of any other similar operations which should fall under my attention, and when a few weeks later I saw the scaffold raised around the beautiful pulpit of Donatello at Prato, a note to the ministry had the effect of telegraphically stopping operations. The indignation of the good people of Florence at the cessation of the house-cleaning brought me a request from a high quarter to undertake the defense of the city against the insolent Englishman of the "Cornhill!"
The subsequent years of my residence in Florence were on the whole the most tranquil and the happiest of my mature life. We all enjoyed it without serious drawback, the routine becoming a visit in early summer to Venice, then visits to the Venetian Tyrol, Cadore, Cortina, and Landro, and the return to Florence in the autumn. I found in Florence an intellectual life and serenity of which there was no evidence elsewhere, with surroundings of the noblest art of the Renaissance, and an intellectual atmosphere hardly, I think, to be found in any other Italian city. Amongst our dearest friends were the Villaris, with whom we still remain in cordial sympathy. I can wish Italy no greater good than the possession of many children like Pasquale Villari. Our great diplomat George P. Marsh had an unbounded admiration for him—he used to say, "Villari is an angel;" and he certainly stands at the head of the list of noble Italians I have known for the personal and intellectual virtues and subtlety of appreciation, not rare amongst Italians, but unfortunately to be sought for in their politics in vain. In Italy as in America men of that type are pushed to the wall and crowded out of the conflicts of political life.
I was finally, after five years of residence, obliged to abandon our home at Florence by the constant recurrence of fevers, which gave us perpetual anxiety as well as perplexity, for there is no malaria in that part of Tuscany. After an attack which nearly proved fatal to one of the children, my courage gave out, and we broke up housekeeping, and the family, with the exception of myself and my eldest daughter, went back to England. It was only subsequently that I discovered that the secret of the fevers was in the water drawn from the wells of Florence. These are sunk in a stratum of gravel in which are countless cesspools, the filtration of which extends through the entire stratum and poisons every well within the limits of their influence. On my accession in later years to the service of the "Times" as Rome correspondent, I attacked the system of drainage and water supply of Florence in a series of letters, and brought down on my head the most furious abuse which my journalistic life has known, but which ended in the reformation, not yet complete, however, of the water supply of the city, and the admission by the Florentines that if they had attended to my warnings earlier they would have been saved great losses, chief of which was the abandonment of a projected return to Florence by Queen Victoria, on account of a serious epidemic of typhoid which broke out after her first visit. Like most reformers, I was threatened with violence if I returned to the scene of my labors, to be hailed as a friend when I had been found to be right and my warnings salutary. But at the moment, the effect of the fevers was to drive me out of Florence, where residence had on many accounts proved most delightful, and send me off again on adventure.
I passed the next year at New York on the staff of the "Evening Post," sending occasional correspondence to the "Times," and during this absence my father-in-law became involved in financial embarrassments which ultimately cost my wife her allowance, after we had again established our residence for the family in London. With a widened literary experience and connection I could see my way to a better situation than that of the past years, but in 1886 the death of the Rome correspondent of the "Times," and the definite retirement of Mr. Gallenga, the Italian correspondent par excellence, brought me into a regular and permanent employment by the paper as its representative for Greece and Italy, with residence at Rome.
CHAPTER XXXVII
THE BLOCKADE OF GREECE
I took possession of my double charge of the (to me) most interesting of all foreign lands, Greece and Italy, at a moment when affairs were quickening for new troubles in the former, where demagoguery had again taken the upper hand. Comoundouros was dead, and Tricoupi, who had succeeded, as I had long before anticipated that he would, to the lead in Greek politics, had fallen, as he had foretold, on the question of taxation. The new successor to the bad qualities of old Comoundouros, Deliyanni, in his electoral programme had promised to relieve the people of all taxation, and had, of course, been elected, and I found Tricoupi still at the head of the opposition. I had stayed at Rome only long enough to take possession of my place and have a conversation with the Italian Minister of Foreign Affairs, General Robilant, as to the course which Italy would follow if there were troubles in Greece, and received his assurance that Italy would stand with England, whatever might happen.
Robilant was one of the ablest ministers of foreign affairs Italy has had in my time, and, if not the most conspicuous occupant of that position in intellectual qualities, he certainly was so, with one exception—that of Baron Blanc—in sound common sense and a large and comprehensive perception of the situation of Italy amongst the powers, and her true affiliations. To him, more than to any other individual Italian, was due the entry of Italy into the Triple Alliance, a measure which has probably been very largely instrumental in keeping the peace between the European powers ever since it was formed. Simple and reserved in his manner to a correspondent, he was entirely frank and courteous in communicating what could be communicated, and quietly silent beyond. Always the butt of the most savage hostility of the Italian radicals, he resigned the year after, though supported by the majority in the Chamber, rather than expose himself longer to the vulgar and brutal partisan insolence of Cavallotti and his allies in the Chamber. As individual, as soldier, and as minister, Robilant was the type of the Italian at his best. Very few of the extreme Left in the Italian Chamber made any pretensions to a comprehension of the nature of a gentleman, and the vulgarity of the outbreak which provoked his resignation—it was on the occasion of the disaster of Dogali—was of a nature which only a hardened politician could adapt himself to. It was my first experience of the indecencies of Italian parliamentarism, and, when he left the Chamber under the unendurable insults poured on him in language adapted only to street broils, I said to a colleague that he would never appear again in the Chamber. I was right, for, though the ministry obtained a vote of confidence, and he was urged to withdraw his resignation, he refused. In his charge the foreign policy of Italy was at its best.