consciousness that he had nothing to say.  It was on one of these occasions that an American new arrival was presented to him by Mr. Maquay, the banker, who always did that office for Americans, the United States having then no representative at the Grand Ducal court.  Maquay, thinking to help the Duke, whispered in his ear that the gentleman was connected by descent with the great Washington, upon which the Duke, changing his foot, said, “Ah! le grand Vash!” His manner was that of a lethargic and not wide-awake man.  When strangers would sometimes venture some word of compliment on the prosperity and contentment of the Tuscans, his reply invariably was, “Sono tranquilli”—­they are quiet.  But in truth much more might have been said; for assuredly Tuscany was a Land of Goshen in the midst of the peninsula.  There was neither want nor discontent (save among a very small knot of politicians, who might almost have been counted on the hand), nor crime.  There was at Florence next to no police of any kind, but the streets were perfectly safe by night or by day.

There was a story, much about that time, which made some noise in Europe, and was very disingenuously made use of, as such stories are, of a certain Florentine and his wife, named Madiai, who had been, it was asserted, persecuted for reading the Bible.  It was not so.  They were “persecuted” for, i.e. restrained from, preaching to others that they ought to read it, which is, though doubtless a bad, yet a very different thing.

I believe the Grand Duke (gran ciuco—­great ass—­as his irreverent Tuscans nicknamed him) was a good and kindly man, and under the circumstances, and to the extent of his abilities, not a bad ruler.  The phrase, which Giusti applied to him, and which the inimitable talent of the satirist has made more durable than any other memorial of the poor gran ciuco is likely to be, “asciuga tasche e maremme”—­he dries up pockets and marshes—­is as unjust as such mots of satirists are wont to be.  The draining of the great marshes of the Chiana, between Arezzo and Chiusi, was a well-considered and most beneficent work on a magnificent scale, which, so far from “drying pockets,” added enormously to the wealth of the country, and is now adding very appreciably to the prosperity of Italy.  Nor was Giusti’s reproach in any way merited by the Grand Ducal government.  The Grand Duke personally was a very wealthy man, as well as, in respect to his own habits, a most simple liver.  The necessary expenses of the little state were small; and taxation was so light that a comparison between that of the Saturnian days in question and that under which the Tuscans of the present day not unreasonably groan, might afford a text for some very far-reaching speculations.  The Tuscans of the present day may preach any theological doctrines they please to any who will listen to them, or indeed to those who won’t, but it would be curious to know how many individuals among them consider that, or any other recently-acquired liberty, well bought at the price they pay for it.