that the responsibility may fall on the government and not on him who wears it. And one thing more: let us be consistent; if republicanism requires simplicity, and black is to be our national color, let the "fuss and feathers" of the army and navy be dismissed, and the general as well as the private soldier appear in "the black coat!" LETTER LXII. Visit to Italy-Florence-Rome-Naples. MY DEAR C****** In the autumn of 1854 I set out with my family for a brief visit to Italy. With all my wanderings I had never seen this far-famed land, and as I was not likely ever to have another opportunity, I felt it to be a kind of duty to avail myself of a few unappropriated weeks, for that object. It is not my purpose to give you the details of my travels or my observations. A mere outline must suffice. Embarking in a steamer at Marseilles, we soon reached Genoa. Here we went ashore for a few hours, and then returning to our vessel, proceeded on to Leghorn. Taking the railroad at this place, we wound among the hills, and, having passed Pisa, catching a glimpse of its Leaning Tower, arrived at Florence. In this journey of five days, we had passed from Paris to the center of Italy. Florence* is situated in a small but fertile valley, on either side of which rise a great number of precip itous hills; behind these is a succession of still greater elevations, with rocky summits reaching at last to the Apennines on the north, and other ranges on the south and west. A narrow stream, poetically called the "yellow Arno" or "golden Arno," but in honest phrase, the muddy Arno, flows nearly through the center of the city. This is bordered by stone quays, leaving a space of about three hundred feet in width, sometimes full and sometimes only a bed of gravel, along which winds the stream shrunken into an insignificant rivulet. The Arno is in fact a sort of mountain torrent; its source is nearly five thousand feet above the level of the sea, yet its whole course is but seventy-five miles. The steep acclivities around. Florence suddenly empty the rains into its channel, and it often swells in the course of a few hours to inundation; it subsides as speedily, and in summer almost disappears amid the furrows of its sandy bed. If we were to judge Florence by a modern standard, we might pronounce it a dull, dismal-looking * Florence has a population of one hundred and ten thousand inhabitants, but it is so compactly built as to occupy a very small territorial space. It is surrounded by a wall, partly of brick and partly of stone, and yet so feeble and dilapidated, as to be wholly useless, except for the purposes of police. It has six gates, duly guarded by military sentries. It is the capital of Tuscany, which is called a Grand Duchy, the Grand Duke, its present ruler, Leopold II., being an Austrian prince. The government is a rigid despotism, sustained by means of a few thousand Austrian troops, and the moral influence of the authority of Austria itself, ever ready to rush to the aid of the government. place, marred by dilapidation, degraded by tyranny, and occupied by a degenerate people. But when we enter its galleries of art,* when we survey its monuments of architecture, and when we view all these in connection with its history, we speedily discover it to be an inexhaustible mine, alike instructive to the philosopher and the man of taste. I dare not begin upon the curiosities with which this city is filled: I must leave them to be described by others. The hills around the city are equally interesting, studded as they are with edifices, connected with the names of Michael Angelo, Galileo, Dante, Lorenzo de' Medici, and others, all full of historical associations or recollections of science and art. At the distance of about five miles is Fiésole, now an insignificant village, situated on the top of a steep hill, rising a thousand feet above the bed of the valley. This you ascend by a winding road, built with immense labor, a portion of it cut in the solid rock. This place was the cradle of Florence, its history reaching back three thousand years, into the thick mists of antiquity. * The principal gallery, the Ufizzi, contains the statue of the Venus de' Medici, the group of Niobe, and the most extensive collection of paintings and statuary illustrative of the history and progress of art, in the world. The collection in the Pitti Palace, the residence of the Grand Duke, is less extensive, but it is beautifully arranged, and comprises many gems of art, especially in painting and mosaic. Mr. Powers and Mr. Hart, American sculptors, celebrated for their busts in marble, are established in this city. Here we met Buchanan Read, who had just finished his charming poem, The New Pastoral; at the same time he was acquiring hardly less celebrity by his pencil. Here are Cyclopean walls, constructed by the early inhabitants to protect themselves at a period when all Italy was in the possession of bands of brigands and robbers, and when every town and village was a fortress. From this point you look down upon Florence, which almost seems at your feet; you have also a commanding view of the whole adjacent country. If you inquire the names of places that attract your attention, you will be carried back to periods. anterior to the building of Rome. The guide will point you to the track of Hannibal through the marshes of the Arno, then a wilderness without inhabitants, amid which the Carthaginian general lost a number of elephants, and whose tusks are even at this day dug up from their deep beds in the soil. Allow me to give you a somewhat prosy description in rhyme of this wonderful and suggestive placethe best in the world to study early Roman geography and history-which I wrote on the spot, and which has at least the merit of being brief: This is Fiésole-a giant mound, With fellow-giants circling phalanx'd round; Ah, what a varied page these scenes unfold- On the twenty-second day of February we entered Rome, and found the peach-trees in blossom. The modern city is in no respect remarkable. Its walls are of some strength, but readily yielded to the attack of the French army in 1849. Its present population is one hundred and seventy-five thousand. All the streets are narrow, and even the far-famed Corso is not over fifty feet wide. In general, the buildings appear to be of modern date, with here and there some grand monument of antiquity peering out from the midst of more recent structures. On the whole, the aspect of this "Queen of the World" is eminently sad, degenerate, and disheartening. The more imposing relics of antiquity, the Forum, the Palace of the Cæsars, the Coliseum, the Baths of Caracalla, though within the walls, are still on the southern side of the city, and beyond the present center of population. All these are gigantic structures, but mostly of a barbarous character. They show the amazing power and wealth of the emperors who con |