f the
period of George I., still worn, oddly enough, at the English court.
It is a sufficiently handsome dress in itself, and had at all events
the advantage of looking extremely unlike the ordinary costume of
nineteenth-century mortals, It was often a question with American
civilians what dress they should wear on these occasions, and I used
to endeavor to persuade my American friends to insist upon their
republican right to ignore in Europe court-tailor mummeries of which
they knew nothing at home; being perfectly sure that they would have
carried the point victoriously, and not unmindful of Talleyrand's
remark when Castlereagh at Vienna appeared in a plain black coat,
without any decoration, among the crowd of continental diplomatists
bedizened with ribbons of every color and stars and crosses of every
form and kind: "_Ma foi! c'est fort distingue_!" But I never could
prevail, having, as I take it, the female influence against me on the
subject; and Americans used to adopt generally a blue cloth coat and
trousers well trimmed with gold lace, and a white waistcoat.

In later days, when popular discontent and the agitation arising from
it were gradually boiling up to a dangerous height in every part of
Italy, and the hatred felt toward the different sovereigns was
reflected in many an audacious squib and satire, the grand duke of
Tuscany never shared to any great degree the odium which pursued his
fellow-monarchs. It was with a scathing vigor of satire that Giuseppe
Giusti characterized each of the Italian crowned heads of that period
in burning verses, which were circulated with cautious secresy in
manuscript from hand to hand, long before a surreptitious edition,
which it was dangerous (anywhere in Italy save in Tuscany) to possess,
appeared, to be followed in after years by many an avowed one. These
have given the name of Giusti a high and peculiar place on the roll of
Italian poets. But the satirist's serpent scourge is changed for a
somewhat contemptuously used foolscap when the Tuscan ruler is
introduced in the following lines:

Il Toscano Morfeo vien' lemme, lemme,
Di pavavero cinto e di lattuga.

Then comes the Tuscan Morpheus, creepy, crawly,
With poppies and with lettuce crowned.

These lines, however, represent pretty accurately about the worst that
his subjects had to say of poor old "Ciuco," as the last of the grand
dukes was irreverently and popularly called: "Ciuco," I am sorry to
state, me