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$26 The Leader and Saturday Analyst. [Ju...
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FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE. (special.) Piace...
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Serials. Frasers Magazine For June Conta...
The Englishwoman ' s Journal for thepresent month , contains " Education in France ; " Elizabeth von Reeke , part ii . "On Assisted Emigration ;• ' " God ' s Horologue ; a Poem ; " " Retribution ; " and " Institution for the Employment of Needlewomen . These articles have sufficient excellence and merit to recommend this journal to the public .
$26 The Leader And Saturday Analyst. [Ju...
$ 26 The Leader and Saturday Analyst . [ June 2 , 1860 .
Foreign Correspondence. (Special.) Piace...
FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE . ( special . ) Piacenza , May 15 , 1860 . THE " PROMISED LAND . " O UT of chill clouds and dull gloom , I have passed into summer sunshine . Across barren moorland and more barren mountains , by the side of marshy lakes , deserted and malaria-haunted , through squalid villages and decayed cities , my journey has brought me into a rich garden country , studded with thriving towns , swarming with life , and watered with endless streams . I have come into aland such as the children of Israel never looked upon from over Jordan , after their weary wanderings in the wilderness : a land rich in oil and corn , and vineyards and cattle—a very " land of promise . " This , indeed , is the true Italy , the Italy of which all poets of all
time have sung , and whose likeness all artists have sought to draw , and sought in vain . The sight * however , of this wondrous beauty is not new tome who write 5 still less is its record new to you who read . With this much of tribute let it pass unnoticed . Fortunately , it has been jny lot to see the promised land of Italy as for centuries past she has not been seen . I have seen her free , and rejoicing in her freedom . The sight is well worth a record , feeble though it be . The vivas and the plaudits are still ringing in my ears—the flags and garlands still wave before ine—the triumphal arches still stand undismantled ; I still see and hear and feel around me the presence of a great ,, glad multitude . While the memory , then , of the scene , half vivid and half confused , still remains fresh , let me seek to recall such of the epochs in that right royal progress — -when the chosen king came to take possession of his promised land—asjstaiid most clearly forth . - '
I remember once seeing a collection of Indian portraits . _ There were rajahs and dervishes , jugglers and dancing girls , depicted in every variety of garb and posture . For the whole setj however , fhere was but one face . Each portrait had a hole where the face should have been , and the picture was completed by placing the one head beneath the blank opening . In fact , you had one face , beneath a hundred different draperies . So also , in my late wanderings , I have seen but one picture in a dozen frames—one sight in many cities . At some , the flags may have waved more gaily / at
some again the lamps may have sparkled more brilliantly , and at others the crowd may have cheered more lnstily'j but the substance of the sight was the same throughout . Everywhere , some halfdozen of dusty open carnages , filled with officers in uniform , passing through crowded streets festooned with flowers , trapped out with _ ^ banners—everywhere , the one figure of a plain , rough soldier-king , bowing stiffly and slowly from time to time- —every where , a surging , heaving , shouting crowd . Such is the one subject of my picture gallery . _
I am in the Duomo of Florence , Around and about me there is a great crowd . Every niche and cornice where foot can stand is occupied . A deep gloom hangs around the darkened church , and from out the lofty vaulted arches thousands of lamps hang glimmering like stars upon a moonless sky . Ever and anon the organ peals forth triumphantly , and the clouds of incense rise fitfully , and as the bell rings , and the Host is raised on high , you see above the bowed heads of the swaying crowd the figiire of the excommum-Gated king , kneeling on the altar steps . Then , when the service is over , and the royal procession passes down the nave , through the double line of soldiers who keep the passage clear , I am carried onwards to the front Of the grand old cathedral , which for centuries
bas stood bare and unfinished , and which is to date its completion from the time when the city of Dante and Michael Angelo is to date her freedom—too long delayed . The next scene present to my memory is a dark gloomy night . I am at Pisa , in the city of the Oampo Santo , where hang the chains of the ancient port which the Genoese carried off in triumph centuries ago , in the days of the old Republic , and have brought back to < day , in honour of the new brotherhood . The great festival of the Ziuminara ia to be held to-night , in the presence of the king . I have come from Florence through the pleasant Arno valley , shining in the glory of an Italian sunset , and the night has come < on , and dark , rain-laden clouds , are rolling up from the sea ; but
neither wind nor rain are heeded now . Through narrow streets , which a year ago were silent and deserted , I follow a great multitude pressing towards the river side . , A sudden turn brings me to the quay , and an illuminated city rises before me , across the Axxip The glare is so strong that at first I can scarcely distinguish anything save the one grand blnze of light . Then , by degrees I see that every . house and palace-frqnt along those- mile-long quays is lit up by rows on rows of lamps , scattered everywhere . Arches and parapets and bridges are all marked out against the dark background of the eky , by the long lines of light , and in the depth ' s of the dull stream that rolls at my feet a second inverted city sparkles brightly . Along either quay a great countless multitude keeps moving to and fro , casting a dark hem of shadow at the foot of the bouses whioh line the river . Then of a sudden , the low , ceaseless hum of ten thousand voices is exohanged for a loud cheer , and the
bands begin to play , and the royal carriages , escorted by ^ a running crowd , pass along the quays . ; and wherever the throng _ is thickest , you can tell that Victob Emmanuel is to be found , > vith Kicasoli by his side . Then , as the king and his party pass out of sight ; the storm comes on in its fury , and the gusts of wind blow out the lamps , as if in doing honour to the king their work was ended . ^ Another scene which I remember well was on a long day ' s jour « ney through the Val di Chiana , a day ' s journey by fertile fields and smiling villages , and on pleasant country roads . The king was coming in the course of the day along the same route . At every corner , at every bridge and roadside house , there were groups of peasants standing waiting to see II padrone nuovo , the new
sovereign and master . The children had flags in their-little hands , and the cottagers had hung out their coloured bed-quilts , and the roadside crosses were decked out with flowers . The church bells were ringing , country bands were playing lustily , and the national guard of every little town I passed stood under arms , to the admiration of all beholders . It was a holiday everywhere ; the fields were left untilled , the carts were taken up to carry whole peasant families to the market town of Arezzo , where the king was to spend the night . Man , woman , and child wore the national colours in some part of their Sunday dress ; and about everything and everybody there was a look of happiness , hard indeed to describe , but one not often seen nor easily forgotten .
Let us turn northwards . The old streets of Bologna , with their endless rows of colonnades , are filled with people . The dead Papal city is alive again . The priests have disappeared ; friars , monks , Jesuits , and nuns have vanished froni their old haunts . St . Patrick did not clear the land of Erin more thoroughly and more suddenly of the genus reptile than the presence of Victob Emmanuel has cleared Bologna of the genus priest . It is whispered that out of top windows , and from behind blinds and shutters , priests are peeping out at the ; strange sight of a glad and a free people , with glances the reverse of friendly ; but neither the black robe nor the browri ; serge cowl , nor the three-cornered , low-crowned beaver hat , are to be seen amongst the crowd . Well , perhaps the scene looks none the less gay for their absence . The flags and flowers glitter beneath the blue cloudless sky , and the burning sun of a hot
summer day gives an unwonted brightness to the grey colours of the grim , gaunt houses . -Down the steep winding-road , leading from the old monastery of St . Michael , where the king is lodged , through the dark , narrow , " crowded streets , a brilliant cavalcade comes riding _ slo \ yly . Half a horse ' s length in front rides Victob Emmanuel . Amongst the order-covei'ed staff who follow , there is scarcely one of not more royal presence than their leader ; there are many whose names may stand before his in the world ' s judgment , but the crowd has its eyes fixed on the king , and the king alone . For three long days this selfsame crowd has followed him , and stared at him , and cheered , him , but their ardour remains undiminished . All the school-children of the city , down to little mites of things who can scarcely toddle ^ have been brought out to see him . Boy-soldiers , with Liliputiah muskets , salute him as he passes . A mob of men , heedless of the gendarmes or of the horses ' i
hoois , _ a : ujiJbefore—the ~ cavalcade , Jn _ the _ -bnrjung _ lieat , _ . and _ che-eE __ hoarsely . Every window is lined with ladies in the gayest of gay dresses , who cast glances before the king , and try , like true daughters of Eve , to catch a smile from that plain good-humoured face . So amidst flowers , and smiles , and cheers ,, the procession passes on . There is no pause , indeed , in the ceaseless cheering , save where the band of exiles stand with the flags of Rome , and Naples , and Venice , covered with the black veil—or when the regiments defile past with the tattered colours which were rent to shreds at San Martino and at Solferino , and then the cry of " Viva Vittorio Emmanuele" is changed for that of " Viva 1 'Italia . "
It is a Sunday afternoon , and at three o ' clock I have turned out of the broiling streets into the vast crowded theatre of Reggio . Every place is occupied , every box is crammed ; rows of lights sparkle around the darkened house , and the heat is a thing to be remembered afterwards . There is a gorgeous ballet being acted on the stage , and Caesar is being tempted by every variety of female art and posture , in a way which never happens except to ballet heroes , and to Saint Anthony of Padua . The dancing girls , however , dance in vain , and hlie orchestra plays to deaf ears , for all voices are raised at once , and all eyes are turned from the stage . The King has entered the royal box , and every lady in the long tiers of boxes unfurls the tricolor flng she bears in her hands , and waves it bravely . The whole house keeps rising , shouting , cheering . The musicians lay down their instruments , and the ballet girls
drop their postures , and Cjesab forgets his dignity , and one and all crowd forward on the stage , and join in the general cheering , and when the king leaves the curtain drops upon the unfinished ballet , and the whole house rush out into the piazza to see Victob Emmanuel again , as he drives away . The last time that my path comes across the kingly progress is at a railway station . The long street of Parma leading to the station , lined with a dense crowd , and the flowers and nags and triumphal nrches are to be seen in greater profusion here than even I have been accustomed to before . The royal carriages have to move at a foot ' s pace , on account of the multitude which pressbs round them . Amidst playing of bands and throwing of flowers , the king , accompanied by his vast escort , has reached tho station , and enters it with his suite—but the eager enthusiasm of the multitude is not sated yet . Regardless of all railway rules and penalties , they clamber over palings , and run up embankments , and manage to force their way at last to the platform itself , as the royal train is moving on . Even the iron nerve , of Viotoe Emmanubi . seems affected by
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), June 2, 1860, page 18, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_02061860/page/18/
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