“The advocates used to be one of our sores; we are beginning to be cured of it.  If we could but get rid of the clerks in the offices, all would go well.”

Let us hope that, among modern inventions, a bureaucratic machine may be made by which the labour of men in offices may be superseded.

The Roman princes affect to regard the middle class with contempt.  The advocate who pleads their causes, and generally gains them, belongs to the middle class.  The physician who attends them, and generally cures them, belongs to the middle class.  But as these professional men have fixed salaries, and as salaries resemble wages, contempt is thrown into the bargain.  Still the contempt is a magnanimous sort of contempt—­that of a patron for his client.  At Paris, when an advocate pleads a prince’s cause, it is the prince who is the client:  at Rome, it is the advocate.

But the individual who is visited by the most withering contempt of the Roman princes is the farmer, or mercante di campagna; and I don’t wonder at it.

The mercante di campagna is an obscure individual, usually very honest, very intelligent, very active, and very rich.  He undertakes to farm several thousand acres of land, pasture or arable as may be, which the prince would never be able to farm himself, because he neither knows how, nor has the means to do so.  Upon this princely territory the farmer lets loose, in the most disrespectful manner, droves of bullocks, and cows, and horses, and flocks of sheep.  Should his lease permit him, he cultivates a square league or so, and sows it with wheat.  When harvest-time arrives, down from the mountains troop a thousand or twelve hundred peasants, who overrun the prince’s land in the farmer’s service.  The corn is reaped, threshed in the open field, put into sacks, and carted away.  The prince sees it go by, as he stands on his princely balcony.  He learns that a man of the mezzo ceto, a man who passes his life on horseback, has harvested on his land so many sacks of corn, which have produced him so much money.  The mercante di campagna comes, and confirms the intelligence, and then pays the rent agreed upon to the uttermost baioccho.  Sometimes he even pays down a year or two in advance.  What prince could forgive such aggravated insolence?  It is the more atrocious, since the farmer is polite, well-mannered, and much better educated than the prince; he can give his daughters much larger fortunes, and could buy the entire principality for his own son, if by chance the prince were obliged to sell it.  The cultivation of estates by means of these people is, in the eyes of the Roman princes, an attack upon the rights of property.  Their passion for incessant work is a disturbance of the delightful Roman tranquillity.  The fortunes they acquire by personal exertion, energy, and activity, are a reproach by inference to that stagnant wealth which is the foundation of the State, and the admiration of the Government.