The
Cascino consists of pleasure grounds on the banks of the Arno outside the
town, laid out in roads, alleys and walks for carriages, equestrians and
pedestrians. There is a very brilliant display of carriages every evening.
There are restaurants on the Cascino and supper parties are often formed
here. This place is often the scene of curious adventures. Cicisbeism is
universal at Florence, tho' far from being always criminal, as is generally
supposed by foreigners. I find the Florentine women very graceful and many
very handsome; but in point of beauty the female peasantry far exceed the
noblesse and burghers. All of them however dress with taste. The
handsomest woman in Florence is the wife of an apothecary who lives in the
Piazza del Duomo and she has a host of admirers.
On the promenade lungo l'Arno near the Cascino is a fountain with a
statue of Pegasus, with an inscription in Italian verse purporting that
Pegasus having stopped there one day to refresh himself at this fountain,
found the place so pleasant that he remained there ever since. This is a
poetic nation par excellence. Affiches are announced in sonnets and
other metres; and tho' in other countries the votaries of the Muses are but
too apt to neglect the ordinary and vulgar concerns of life, yet here it by
no means diminishes industry, and the nine Ladies are on the best possible
terms with Mr Mercury.
I shall not attempt a description of the various palazzi and churches of
Florence, tho' I have visited, thanks to the zeal and importunity of my
cicerone, nearly all, except to remark that no one church in Florence,
the Cathedral and Baptistery on the Piazza del Duomo excepted, has its
facade finished, and they will remain probably for ever unfinished, as the
completion of them would cost very large sums of money, and the restored
Government, however anxious to resuscitate the ancient faith, are not
inclined to make large disbursements from their own resources for that
purpose. I wish however they would finish the facade of two of these
churches, viz., that of Santa Maria Novella and that of Santa Croce.
Santa Maria Novella stands in the Piazza of that name which is very
large. It is a beautiful edifice, and can boast in the interior of it
several columns and pilasters of jaune antique and of white marble. But
they have a most barbarous custom in Florence of covering these columns
with red cloth on jours de Fete, which spoils the elegant simplicity of
the columns and makes the church itself resemble a theatre des
Marionnettes. But the Italians are dreadfully fond of gaudy colours. In
the church of Santa Croce what most engaged my attention was the monument
erected to Vittorio Alfieri, sculptured by Canova. It is a most beautiful
piece of sculpture. A figure of Italy crowned with turrets seems fully
sensible of the great loss she has sustained in one who was so ardent a
patriot, as well as an excellent tragic poet. This monument was erected at
the expence of the Countess of Albany (Queen of England, had legitimacy
always prevailed, or been as much in fashion as it now is) as a mark of
esteem and affection towards one who was so tenderly attached to her, and
of whom in his writings Alfieri speaks with the endearing and affectionate
appellation of mia Donna. The beautiful sonnet to her, which accompanies
the dedication of his tragedy of Mirra, well deserves the monument; there
is so much feeling in it that I cannot retrain from transcribing it:
Vergognando talor, che ancor si taccia,
Donna, per me l'almo tuo nome in fronte
Di queste omai gla troppe a te ben conte
Tragedie, ond'io di folle avrommi taccia;
Or vo' qual d'esse meno a te dispiaccia
Di te fregiar; benche di tutte il fonte
Tu sola fosti, e'l viver mio non conte
Se non dal Di, ch'al viver tuo si allaccia.
Della figlia di Ciniro infelice
L'orrendo a un tempo ed innocente amore
Sempre da' tuoi begli occhi il planto elice;
Prova emmi questo, ch'al mio dubbio core
Tacitamente imperiosa dice,
Ch'io di Mirra consacri a te il dolore.
In this sanctuary (church of the Santa Croce) are likewise the tombs and
monuments of other great men which Italy has produced. There is the
monument erected to Galileo which represents the earth turning round the
sun with the emphatic words: Eppur si muove. Here too repose the ashes of
Machiavelli and Michel Angelo. This church is in fact the Westminster Abbey
of Florence.
To go from the Piazza del gran Duca to the Piazza del Duomo, where
stands the Cathedral, you have only to pass thro' a long narrow street or
rather alley (for it is impervious to carriages) with shops on each side
and always filled with people going to or returning from the Duomo. This
Cathedral is of immense size. The architecture is singular from its being a
mixture of the Gothic and Greek. It appears the most ponderous load that
ever was laid on the shoulders of poor mother earth. There is nothing light
in its structure to relieve the massiveness of the building, and in this
respect it forms a striking contrast to the Cathedral of Milan which
appears the work of Sylphs. The outside of this Duomo of Florence is
decorated and incrusted with black and white marble, which increases the
massiveness of its appearance. The steeple or Campanile stands by itself,
altogether separate from the Cathedral, and this is the case with most of
the Churches in Italy that are not of pure Gothic architecture. This
Campanile is curiously inlaid and incrusted on its outside with red,
white and black marble.
