Part 5

The conversation lasted, I should think, twenty minutes. His imperial highness was very curious as to America, and though there were great modesty and politeness, mingled with a singular and commendable sincerity, in his manner, he asked a hundred questions, while, of course, I did nothing but answer them. He inquired into the number and size of our towns, the habits of the people, and the general state of the country. Some of his notions were, as usual with most Europeans, vague and false; but, on the whole, he appeared to me to know more about us than most of even the learned in this hemisphere. His geographical attainments struck me as being very respectable; and what gave me more satisfaction than anything else, was the simple integrity apparent in all his sentiments.

The Osages had passed through Florence not long before, and had been fêted and fed, as at Paris. The grand duke inquired if I had seen them, and, on being answered in the affirmative, he wished to know whether I believed them to be chiefs of importance in their tribe, and inquired their motive in coming to Europe. Now, it would not be agreeable for one who fancied he had seen a hero, to hear he had only seen a common man,--or who thought he was entertaining a saint, to discover that his attentions were lavished on a sinner. But catching some of the sincerity of the grand duke, I told him what I really thought: viz. that these savages could not well be principal chiefs, as the agent of our government would scarcely permit such to visit Europe; and that I believed the whole thing to have no connexion whatever with religious conversion, but to be merely a speculation of the Frenchman who managed the affair. This explanation was taken in good part, and I thought the grand duke had even anticipated some such reply. Princes so seldom get truth, that its novelty sometimes pleases them.

With one of his questions, which was personal to myself, I was both startled and amused. “_De quel pays étes vous, vraiment?_” he asked, laying particular emphasis on the last word. Had he not discovered too much knowledge of America previously, I might have suspected the old difficulty of colour was a stumbling-block; but as this was out of the question, suspicion was drawn another way. I believe the simple solution of this unusual question to be as follows:--Not long before, I had taken an opportunity to expose the motives and policy, that had given rise to the systematic and enduring abuse of the English press on America. Any one might have accomplished this duty, for such it had actually become; but favoured by circumstances, my own publication had made its way in Europe, where most American books would never have penetrated. As a matter of course, I had been blackguarded,--for the Anglo-Saxon race seems to take natural refuge in blackguarding when it can neither refute or disprove. By way of weakening my testimony, a report had been industriously circulated that I was a renegado Englishman, and an honest indignation for unmerited national calumny was ingeniously imputed to personal disaffection and personal discontent. As half-a-dozen of those rumours had fallen under my eyes in the public journals, I was at no loss to understand the drift of the grand duke’s inquiry; and this the more especially, as he awaited the answer with evident curiosity. Determined to set him right on this subject, which if of no importance to the state of Tuscany, was of some importance to myself, I told him, with commendable particularity, I was a native of the small state of New Jersey, a territory lying between the two great states of Pennsylvania and New York; though a citizen of the latter from infancy. He wished to know if New Jersey was an original state, and whether my father had not been an Englishman. On this hint, I added that my family had migrated to America, in 1679, from England certainly, but I had every reason to believe that I was the first member of it, in the direct line, who had been out of the country since; and, moreover, that Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York were original states in the heart of America, and that more than a hundred men of my name and blood were at this moment among their citizens. I believe this satisfied the grand duke: for so general is the disgust created by the English system of calumniating, that I have often had occasion to observe that the inhabitants of other countries are usually pleased to find the islanders put in the wrong.

It was not an easy matter to answer all the questions of this prince without misleading him, for etiquette prevented more than direct and brief replies. He was curious on the subject of luxury, and had many exaggerated notions concerning the magnificence of our nation. He seemed surprised when I told him we had no scenery to compare with that of the Mediterranean, and that nearly all of the American coast, in particular, was tame and uninteresting. “But your lakes?” “Are large, sir, without question; but so large as to resemble views of the ocean, and with coasts that are far from striking. We have many beautiful little lakes, it is true, but nothing to compare with those of Italy and Switzerland.” “Your rivers?”--“Are large and beautiful.” “And your mountains?”--“Are much inferior to those of Tuscany, even.”

But I cannot recall all that passed in this long conversation, of whose outline, rather than of its details, I have endeavoured to give you some idea. It terminated with the usual expressions of civility on the part of the grand duke, and the hope that Tuscany would prove an agreeable residence to us. Throughout the entire evening, I was under the impression that I had been treated with more than usual distinction, on account of my country; a source of distinction so very novel in Europe, that I deem it worthy of being recorded.

Like most of the Austrian family, Leopold II. is a man of kind heart and affections, and, I believe, a strictly honest prince. In many public acts it becomes necessary to separate the absolute sovereign from the individual; though the world is constantly guilty of the injustice of confounding them, while it is apt to overlook the divided responsibilities of aristocracies;--a polity that probably works more positive wrong than any other, since a large part of the crimes of despotism are merely excesses of those in places of trust. But Tuscany is a mildly governed country, and though it cannot be free from the vices of a _want_ of publicity, it is free from their opposite--the vice of a too great publicity, or that of confounding the necessities of the community with the rights of individuals. The most insidious enemy of monarchy is aristocracy, which destroys while it pretends to support. Still, it is the natural goal of every nobility, and it has struck me there is a secret instinct which teaches this important truth to the sovereigns of our time. A country may be so far advanced as to wish for democracy; but this is the fact under few despotic governments; while all the nobles of Europe pine to become political, or true, as well as social aristocrats. In such a state of things, there is nothing violent in supposing that an absolute prince would regard an aristocrat with more distrust than he regards a democrat; for the polity of the former is an impossibility to him, while there is a constant and natural gravitation towards the latter. At all events, in my own intercourse with princes and aristocrats, I think I have discovered in the former greater liberality, a more confirmed deference for the facts of a country and less theoretical ardour in favour of systems, a higher tone of philosophy with less apparent selfishness, than in the latter, considering the aristocrats as a body, and not regarding the occasional brilliant exceptions. As respects affability and absence of hauteur, the advantage is altogether with the prince, for it depends on a law of nature. I believe, that as we are farther removed from competition and jealousy, the greater the spirit of humanity and charity becomes.

LETTER VI.

Florence.--The Carnival.--A Masked Ball at the Hotel de France.--Group of Englishmen.--A Polish Dance.--The blending of Nations productive of the Advancement of Intelligence.--Public Opinion.--A Yankee mystified.--Prince Napoleon, son of the Count St. Leu.

The carnival commenced early this year, and we have now been a month occupied with its harmless follies and gaieties. Our little capital has shone forth in new colours, and a round of masked balls, at the different legations, has been one of the principal sources of amusement. I was present at the one given by M. de Vitrolles, the minister of France, and shall describe it, in a few words, that you may form some idea of the manner in which these things are managed in Italy.

Although a mask is not indispensable, one is expected to wear some symbol of the folly of the hour. I was told that a little silk cloak, that fell no lower than the elbows, lined with red, and furnished with tassels, was much used by the _juste milieu_, and was the very minimum of admissible costume. Provided with one of these, then, and otherwise dressed as usual, I presented myself among the crowd at the “_Hotel de France_.”

Perhaps half the company was masked; the rest appearing in every sort of dress that fancy, usage, or caprice dictated. A town like Florence offers, on such an occasion, a greater variety of national costumes than one of the larger capitals; for the society is more than half composed of travellers, who come from all the countries of Christendom. The ball-room, as a matter of course, presented a brilliant _coup d’œil_, the more especially as all the women were in high fancy-dresses.--There was the usual sprinkling of Greeks, Egyptians, Turks, and magnificos, with a large proportion of _bonâ fide_ military uniforms. Among others, I saw an Englishman of my acquaintance, a Sir ---- ----, in a coat of a cut that reminded one of the last century. On inquiry, he told me that he had belonged to the guards in his youth, and that he never travelled without his old coat, which he found still very useful on occasions like the present. This is the sensible mode of getting along; but our provincial sensitiveness makes us afraid of a militia uniform. Lord ---- was also there, in his jacket, as a lieutenant of yeomanry. Again, in the course of the evening, a group of Englishmen collected in the centre of the room, and began to talk of their own country. They were all in uniforms, perhaps ten of them, and all belonged to what they called “the household brigade.” The rest of the company shrugged their shoulders at this invasion of the English guards, which was not exactly in good taste; but a cluster of finer young men could not easily have been found. Several of them were six feet two or three, and among the Italians they looked like giants. It resembled a ring of our own Western boys, for a novelty, well dressed.

Soon after the company had assembled, a party appeared beautifully attired in the Polish costume, and danced a polonaise. Both the men and women wore boots, and the dresses were singularly striking. The movement of the dance was slow, and had some slight resemblance to that of a quadrille, though it was much more German and theatrical. The dancers were chiefly Italians; but the master of ceremonies was, I believe, a Pole.

After I had been some time in the room, I found I was the object of general attention. Every one turned round to look at me, until, suspecting something was wrong, I asked an acquaintance what could be the cause of so much and so unusual observation. “You have no cloak,” he answered. Sure enough, the apology for a costume that had been thrown over my shoulders had fallen; and the want of it, in that assembly, was just as much a matter of surprise, as wearing it would have been under other circumstances.

“_Vive la folie, mon cher!_” cried the eloquent Baron ----, as he saw me pick up the fallen garment; “_il faut être aussi fol que le reste du monde, ce soir_.” This gentleman was enveloped in a white domino, without a mask; his fine Neapolitan eye rolling over the scene, like one who enjoyed its gaiety. The blending of colours formed one of the attractions of the evening, the white dominos, in particular, greatly aiding the effect.

Looking over the company, I was led to speculate on the probable consequences of the extraordinary blending of nations, that is the consequence of the present condition of Europe. Fifty years since, none but the noble and rich travelled; and even of this class, not one in ten could fairly be said to have seen the world. At that time, the Alps were crossed only with difficulty, and at a heavy expense; and the roads and inns, generally, were so bad, that a journey from Paris to Rome was a serious undertaking, and a residence in either town involved a total change of habits for the inhabitant of the other. To-night a young Englishman of my acquaintance civilly asked me if he could do anything for me in London. “I’m going to take a run home for a month or six weeks,” he added, “and shall be back before you go farther south.” He thought little more of the journey than we think of an excursion from New York to Washington. His father would have taken more time to prepare for such a journey, than the son will consume in making it.

One evident and beneficial effect of this commingling is certainly the general advancement of intelligence, the wearing down of prejudices, and the prevalence of a more philosophic spirit than of old. In a society where representatives from all the enlightened nations of the world are assembled, a man must be worse than a block if he do not acquire materials worth retaining; for no people is so civilized as to be perfect, and few so degraded as not to possess something worthy to be imparted to others.

It would be morally impossible for Europe to retrograde to the coarseness and open oppression that existed eighty years since, without the occurrence of some violent revolution: nor is it any longer easy for any particular community so far to isolate itself from the general sisterhood of states, as to retain many of the flagrant abuses that outrage the spirit of the age. There is still something to gain in these particulars, beyond a doubt; but the progress is steadily onward, and twenty years more of peace and of continued intercourse will create a standard of moral civilization below which no people can fall and keep its place in the scale of nations. This is the right sort of public opinion; not one which invades the sacred precincts of private life, subjecting the sentiments and actions of individuals to the supervision of a neighbourhood, and giving birth to a wrong as great as any it removes,--but a controlling judgment that settles great principles and throws its shield before the wronged and the feeble--a public opinion that benefits all without doing injustice to any. In this respect, Europe enjoys an immense advantage, from which we are almost entirely excluded by position. I think the effect very apparent, when one comes to analyze the modes of thinking of the two hemispheres; and in nothing is this effect more obvious than in the circumstance to which I have had occasion so often to allude in these letters, of the manner in which opinion precedes facts here, and facts precede opinion with us. This, after all, when one has made a proper allowance for the influence of time on physical things, is the great distinctive feature between the people of most of Europe and the people of America.

We have the carnival in the streets as well as in the palaces, and most of all in the theatres.--Balls are given nearly every night in some one of these public places, and I have been to two or three in masks, but always in domino. On several of these occasions I have attempted to mystify countrymen of our own; but Jonathan is usually as innocent of joking as he is of Hebrew. One evening I attempted a conversation with a tall Yankee, whom I had seen before, and succeeded in getting him a little aloof from the company; when he started up suddenly from his seat, and plunged into the crowd, leaving me delighted with the success of my awful communications. You will judge of my astonishment at hearing him tell a mutual friend next day of the abrupt manner in which he had escaped some impudent trull, who had endeavoured to get him beneath _a chandelier where the grease might fall on his new coat_--a plot of which I solemnly assert my innocence.--My greasy friend was revenged by a party which got round me, and quizzed me at such a rate, that I took shelter from them, by putting my mask in my pocket, and going into the box of the Count St. Leu, who was not in mask. My tormentors, however, were not to be driven off so easily; for two of them followed me, keeping up a round of pleasantries about America and the Indians until I was glad to be quit of them. Later in the evening, one of these gentry met me in the crowd, and removing his mask a little, he showed me the face of Prince Napoleon Bonaparte, the eldest son of the count--a young man of great personal beauty and of singular cleverness. I masked again, and we took a seat apart, and began to discuss the usages of our respective countries.--Both agreed that the world was little more than a masquerade, and my companion related the following anecdote, among other things, as a proof of the truth of our truisms.

You will remember that when King Louis abdicated the throne of Holland, it was in favour of this very son, who was a titular monarch for the few days that intervened between the retirement of his father and the incorporation of the country with France. Though a mere boy, he was condemned to listen to many congratulatory addresses on his accession, his whole reign being distinguished by little else. One morning he was required to receive a deputation, just as he had prepared to discuss a quantity of _bons-bons_, on which he had set his heart, and of which he was particularly fond. While the courtier was dwelling on the virtues of the retired monarch, the weight of his loss (that of the _bons-bons_) oppressed him even to tears; and “you will judge of my surprise,” he added, laughing, “at hearing all the courtiers bursting out in exclamations of delight _at the excellence of my heart_, when I expected nothing better than a severe rebuke for my babyism!” This, he said good-humouredly, was the first of his masquerades.

LETTER VII.

Trip to Genoa.--The Mail.--National vanity.--Massa.--Carrara. Picturesque Road.--Romantic Villages.--Genoa.--The Strada Balbi.--The Sava Palace.--The Town, Scenery and Port.--Environs.--Splendid Prospect.--Italian humour.

A sudden call drew me from Florence during the carnival, and put me unexpectedly on the road to Paris. As I went alone, I took the mail, or _malle-poste_; a species of travelling in great request for those who are in a hurry. The mail is always attended by a guard, who accompanies it from one great town to another. His duty it is to see it properly delivered by the way; and to receive contributions that offer on the route. The contractor is permitted to take one or two travellers in his carriage, which is purposely disposed so as to receive them.

I took my place accordingly as far as Genoa, and we left Florence just as the sun was setting, with our lamps lighted. As we drove through the gate of Pisa, I observed a dragoon dashing along, on each side of us, and was then told that frequent robberies had rendered this escort necessary, until we got out of Lucca. There was a _contadino_ inside, a respectable farmer, who was going a post or two down the Arno, and his eye glistened with delight as he regarded the dragoons. “Those are the boys, signore,” he observed to me. “Nineteen of them put five hundred Neapolitans to flight here during the late wars.” I wonder if there be a people on the globe that does not think itself the salt of the earth! Near Salins last year, as we approached Switzerland, the postilion gravely pointed to a fort, which he affirmed had surrendered to five-and-twenty French, though garrisoned by two hundred Austrians. One can hear of such prodigies anywhere, though they are obstinately uncommon in practice, “even Providence,” as Frederick expressed it, “being usually on the side of strong battalions.”

We drove through Pisa at midnight, and reached Lucca before day. On the confines of this little territory we got some beautiful scenery, the road descending and climbing _á la Suisse_, offering occasional glimpses of the Sea. Massa, the capital of the duchy of that name, was little more than a straggling village, seated on a hill side, but picturesque and Italian; and Carrara, which aspires to the title of a principality, and which is so well known for its statuary marble, is not much more. Both the small states belong to the Duchess Dowager of Modena, and at her death will come under the government of the Duke of Modena, extending his possessions, which already join them, to the sea.

Here the Apennines approached the Mediterranean, until we soon saw their noble piles forming capes and headlands, impending over the blue element. It was altogether a wild and picturesque road, running among and over mountains, along the margin of torrents and through frowning gorges, with occasional openings toward the Mediterranean, that seemed like the breaking away of clouds in winter. One of the most extraordinary features of the scenery was the manner in which grey villages were stuck like wasps’ nests against the acclivities, resembling romantic structures placed in the most picturesque positions on purpose to produce an effect. Fifty of these dusky hamlets rose like bas-reliefs, or embossings, from the brown sides of the mountains; and some of them seemed perched on pinnacles that the foot of man could hardly scale.--I had never before seen anything, in its way, half so wild and romantic as the rustic hamlets in the distance; though a few that we entered completely destroyed the charm on the near view.

At Spezzia an indentation of the coast brought our carriage wheels fairly into the water; and after this we began to ascend. Just as night closed we were buried in the mountains, and I composed myself to sleep. A jog from the _conductor_ awoke me, while we were driving through a gallery that equalled the boasted cuttings of the Simplon.--Looking out, I found we were on the coast again; and passing village after village in quick succession, we reached the gates of Genoa, amid a crowd of donkeys, and of market-people of both sexes, who profited by our arrival to enter the town.