It was not long after our establishment in the Via dei Malcontenti
that a great disaster came upon Florence and its inhabitants and
guests. Arno was not in the habit of following the evil example of the
Tiber by treating Florence as the latter so frequently did Rome. But
in the winter of the year 1844 a terrible and unprecedented flood
came. The rain fell in such torrents all one night that it was feared
that the Arno, already much swollen, would not be able to carry off
the waters with sufficient rapidity. I went out early in the morning
before breakfast, in company with a younger brother of the Dr.
Nicholson of Penrith whom I have mentioned, who happened to be
visiting us. We climbed to the top of Giotto's tower, and saw at once
the terrible extent and very serious character of the misfortune.
One-third, at least, of Florence, was under water, and the flood was
rapidly rising. Coming down from our lofty observatory, we made our
way to the "Lung' Arno," as the river quays are called. And there the
sight was truly a terrible and a magnificent one. The river, extending
in one turbid, yellow, swirling mass from the walls of the houses on
the quay on one side, to those of the houses opposite, was bringing
down with it fragments of timber, carcases of animals, large
quantities of hay and straw;--and amid the wreck we saw a cradle with
a child in it, safely navigating the tumbling waters! It was drawn
to the window of a house by throwing a line over it, and the infant
navigator was none the worse.
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