University of Virginia Library

36. LETTER XXXVI.

I spent a week at the baths of Lucca, which is
about sixty miles north of Florence, and the Saratoga
of Italy. None of the cities are habitable in summer
for the heat, and there flocks all the world to bathe
and keep cool by day, and dance and intrigue by night,
from spring to autumn. It is very like the month of
June in our country in many respects, and the differences
are not disagreeable. The scenery is the finest
of its kind in Italy. The whole village is built about
a bridge across the river Lima, which meets the Serchio
a half mile below. On both sides of the stream
the mountains rise so abruptly, that the houses are
erected against them, and from the summits on both
sides you look directly down on the street. Half-way
up one of the hills stands a cluster of houses, over
looking the valley to fine advantage, and these are
rather the most fashionable lodgings. Round the base
of this mountain runs the Lima, and on its banks for
a mile is laid out a superb road, at the extremity of
which is another cluster of buildings, called the Villa,
composed of the duke's palace and baths, and some
fifty lodging-houses. This, like the pavilion at Saratoga,
is usually occupied by invalids and people of
more retired habits. I have found no hill scenery in
Europe comparable to the baths of Lucca. The
mountains ascend so sharply and join so closely, that
two hours of the sun are lost, morning and evening,
and the heat is very little felt. The valley is formed
by four or five small mountains, which are clothed
from the base to the summit with the finest chestnut
woods; and dotted over with the nest-like cottages of
the Luccese peasants, the smoke from which, morning
and evening, breaks through the trees, and steals up
to the summits with an effect than which a painter
could not conceive anything more beautiful. It is
quite a little paradise; and with the drives along the
river on each side at the mountain foot, and the trim
winding-paths in the hills, there is no lack of opportunity
for the freest indulgence of a love of scenery
or amusement,

Instead of living as we do in great hotels, the people
at these baths take their own lodgings, three or
four families in a house, and meet in their drives and
walks, or in small exclusive parties. The duke gives
a ball every Tuesday, to which all respectable strangers
are invited; and while I was there an Italian prince,
who married into the royal family of Spain, gave a
grand fete at the theatre. There is usually some party
every night, and with the freedom of a watering-place,
they are rather the pleasantest I have seen in
Italy. The duke's chamberlain, an Italian cavalier,
has the charge of a casino, or public hall, which is
open day and night for conversation, dancing and play.
The Italians frequent it very much, and it is free to
all well-dressed people; and as there is always a band
of music, the English sometimes make up a party,
and spend the evening there in dancing or promenading.
It is maintained at the duke's expense, lights,
music, and all, and he finds his equivalent in the profits
of the gambling bank.

I scarce know who of the distinguished people I
met there would interest you. The village was full
of coroneted carriages, whose masters were nobles of
every nation, and every reputation. The originals of
two well-known characters happened to be there—
Scott's Diana Vernon, and the Miss Pratt of the Inheritance.
The former is a Scotch lady, with five or
six children: a tall, superb woman still, with the look
of a mountain-queen, who rode out every night with
two gallant boys mounted on ponies, and dashing after
her with the spirit you would bespeak for the sons of
Die Vernon. Her husband was the best horseman
there, and a “has been” handsome fellow, of about
forty-five. An Italian abbé came up to her one night,
at a small party, and told her he “wondered the king
of England did not marry her.” “Miss Pratt” was
the companion of an English lady of fortune, who
lived on the floor below me. She was still what she
used to be, a much-laughed-at but much-sought person,
and it was quite requisite to know her. She flew
into a passion whenever the book was named. The
rest of the world there was very much what it is elsewhere—a
medley of agreeable and disagreeable, intelligent
and stupid, elegant and awkward. The women
were perhaps superior in style and manner to those
ordinarily met in such places in America, and the men
vastly inferior. It is so wherever I have been on the
continent.

I remained at the baths a few weeks, recruiting—
for the hot weather and travel had, for the first time in

my life, worn upon me. They say that a summer in
Italy is equal to five years elsewhere, in its ravages
upon the constitution, and so I found it.