Tuscany enjoys at present a more liberal government than any other part of Italy, and the people are, in many respects, prosperous and happy.  The Grand Duke, although enjoying almost absolute privileges, is disposed to encourage every measure which may promote the welfare of his subjects.  The people are, indeed, very heavily taxed, but this is less severely felt by them, than it would be by the inhabitants of colder climes.  The soil produces with little labor all that is necessary for their support; though kept constantly in a state of comparative poverty, they appear satisfied with their lot, and rarely look further than the necessities of the present.  In love with the delightful climate, they cherish their country, fallen as she is, and are rarely induced to leave her.  Even the wealthier classes of the Italians travel very little; they can learn the manners and habits of foreigners nearly as well in their own country as elsewhere, and they prefer their own hills of olive and vine to the icy grandeur of the Alps or the rich and garden-like beauty of England.

But, although this sweet climate, with its wealth of sunlight and balmy airs, may enchant the traveler for awhile and make him wish at times that his whole life might be spent amid such scenes, it exercises a most enervating influence on those who are born to its enjoyment.  It relaxes mental and physical energy, and disposes body and mind to dreamy inactivity.  The Italians, as a race, are indolent and effeminate.  Of the moral dignity of man they have little conception.  Those classes who are engaged in active occupation seem even destitute of common honesty, practising all kinds of deceits in the most open manner and apparently without the least shame.  The state of morals is lower than in any other country of Europe; what little virtue exists is found among the peasants.  Many of the most sacred obligations of society are universally violated, and as a natural consequence, the people are almost entire strangers to that domestic happiness, which constitutes the true enjoyment of life.

This dark shadow in the moral atmosphere of Italy hangs like a curse on her beautiful soil, weakening the sympathies of citizens of freer lands with her fallen condition.  I often feel vividly the sentiment which Percival puts into the mouth of a Greek in slavery: 

    “The spring may here with autumn twine
    And both combined may rule the year,
    And fresh-blown flowers and racy wine
    In frosted clusters still be near—­
    Dearer the wild and snowy hills
    Where hale and ruddy Freedom smiles.”

No people can ever become truly great or free, who are not virtuous.  If the soul aspires for liberty—­pure and perfect liberty—­it also aspires for everything that is noble in Truth, everything that is holy in Virtue.  It is greatly to be feared that all those nervous and impatient efforts which have been made and are still being made by the Italian people to better their condition, will be of little avail, until they set up a better standard of principle and make their private actions more conformable with their ideas of political independence.