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    Untitled Article

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    Untitled Article

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    FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE.

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    Untitled Article

    The JEnglisJiwoman ' a Journal for the present month contains " Education in France ; " Elizabeth yon Recke , part ii . "On Assisted Emigration " " God ' s Hbrblogue ; a Poem ; " " Retribution ; " and " Institution for the Employment of Needlewomen .. These articles have sufficient excellence and merit to recommend this journal to the public .

    Untitled Article

    ( 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 a land 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 to me who write ; still less is its record new to you who read . With this much of tribute let it pass unnoticed . Fortunately , it has been my 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 me—the triumphal arches still stand undismantled ; I still see and hear and feel-. ¦ ar ound 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 Tight royal progress —when the . chosen king came to take possession of his promised land—as stand most clearly forth .

    bands begin to play , and the royal carriages , escorted by * running crowd , pass along the quays ; and wherever the throng is thickest , you can tell that Victob Emmanuel is to be found , with Ricasoli by bis 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 put 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 journey 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 nteovo , the new sovetheilittle hands

    reign and master . The children had flags in r , and the cottagers had hung out their coloured bed-quilts , and the roadside crosses were decked out with flowers . The church bells were ring ing * 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 everybod y 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 from 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 brown 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 . Michaei , where the king is lodged , through the dark , narrow , crowdied streets j ^ a brilliant cavalcade comes riding slowly . Half a horseTlength in front rides Victob Emmanuel . Amongst the order-covered 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 Liliputian muskets , salute him as he passes . A ijaob of men , heedless of the gendarmes or of the horses ' hoofs , run before the cavalcade , in the burning heat , and cheer —hoarsely ^—Every-window 48 ^ i « ed-with-Jadie 8-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 1 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 Cjesae 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 duncing girls , however , dance in vain , and the 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 flog- 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 Cesab 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 find flags and triumphal arches 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 tho multitude which pressos round them . Amidst playing of bands and throwing of flowers , tho king , accompanied . by his vast escort , has reached the station , and enters it with his suite—buff 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 tho royal train is moving on . Even tho iron nerve of Victob Emmanuel seems affected by

    I remeriaber ~ 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 set , however , there 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 and at

    some again the lamps may have sparkled more ^ brilliantly , -others the crowd may have cheered more lustily "; but the . substance of the sight was the same throughout . Everywhere , some halfdozen of dusty open carriages , filled with officers in uniform , passing through crowded streets festooned with flowers , trapped out with tanners—everywhere , the one figure of a plain , rough soldier-king " , : bowing ^ tiniy ^ nd-alowly-fromr-time-to 4 ime- — "everywhere ^ 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 figure of the excommunieated 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 lias 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 Campo 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 Luminara is 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 , ana dai'lc , 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 mo to the quay , and an JHtiniinated city rises before mo , across the Arno . The glare is so strong that at first I can scarcely distinguish anything save the one grand blaze of light . Then , by degrees I see that everj house and , palace-front 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 sky , by the Jong lines of light , and in the depths 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 houses which line the river . Then of a sudden the low , ceaseless bum of ten thousand voices is exchanged for a loud cheer , and the

    Untitled Article

    526 The Leader and Saturday Analyst . [ June 2 , 1860 ,

    Foreign Correspondence.

    FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE .

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), June 2, 1860, page 526, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2350/page/18/