“Ha!  Is it so?  Well, then, I’ll tell you what you shall do.  You shall buy it, Sloane, and then you can finish your job,” returned the grand duke.

It is very doubtful whether the Tuscans would have approved of the liberality of the grand duke’s expenditure if he had manifested it, as his neighbor-sovereigns did, by expending his revenues on multitudes of show-soldiers.  The Tuscan forces of those days were not exactly calculated for brilliant military display.  They were about as likely to be called on to fight as the scullions in the grand ducal kitchen, and neither in number, appearance nor tenue were they such as would have obtained the approval of the lowest officer in the service of a more military-minded sovereign.  However, such as they were, the grand duke used occasionally—­generally on the recurrence of some great Church festival—­to review his troops.  On such occasions he was expected to say something to the men.  Poor Ciuco’s efforts in that line often produced effects more amusing to bystanders than impressive to the objects of his oratory.  He was one day reviewing the troops who occupied barracks in the well-known “Fortezza di S. Giovanni,” popularly called by the Florentines “Fortezza da basso”—­the same in which the celebrated Filippo Strozzi, then the prisoner of the vindictive Cosmo de’ Medici, was found dead one morning, leaving to the world the still unsolved historical problem whether he died by his own hand or by that of his jailer hired to do the murder.  The scene in the gloomy old fortress with which we are at present concerned was of a less tragic nature.  His Serene Highness began by exhorting his “brave army”—­which, unlike that of Bombastes in the burlesque, certainly never “kicked up a row” of any kind—­to be attentive to their religious duties.  “It is particularly desirable that you should show an example to the citizens by your regular observance of the festivals of the Church; and—­and—­” (here His Highness shuffled his feet, and, hanging his head down, chanced to cast his eyes on the line of feet of the men drawn up before him) “and—­and—­always keep your shoes clean.”  And with that doubtless much-needed exhortation His Highness concluded his address.

The fact that Leopold was not regarded by his subjects with any bitterness of hatred—­nay, that there was au fond a considerable feeling of affection for him—­is shown by the circumstances of his deposition from the throne.  A little timely concession would have saved Charles I.:  a still less amount of concession would have preserved his throne to Leopold II.  As regarded his own power, he had no objection to agree to all that was asked of him, but he could not make up his mind to go against the head of his house and the head of his religion.  The last proposal made to him was to abdicate in favor of his son, whom, if allied with Piedmont, the Tuscans would have consented to accept as their sovereign.  But the grand duke felt that this would in fact be