I think that the feeling generally
in "the army," if such it could be called, was on the whole kindly
to the Grand Duke, but not to the extent of being willing to fight
anybody, least of all the Florentines, in his defence!
How matters _did_ go it is not necessary to tell here. If ever there
was a revolution "made with rose-water," it was the revolution which
deposed the poor _gran ciuco_. I don't think it cost any human being
in all Florence a scratch or a bloody nose. It cost an enormous amount
of talking and screaming, but nothing else. At the same time it is
fair to remember that the popular leaders could not be sure that
matters might not have taken another turn, and that it _might_ have
gone hard with some of them. In any case, however, it would not have
gone _very_ hard with any of them. Probably exile would have been the
worst fate meted out to them. It is true that exile from Tuscany just
then would have been attended by a similar difficulty to that which
caused the old Scotch lady, when urged to run during an earthquake, to
reply, "Ay! but whar wull I run to?"
I do not think there was any bitter, or much even unkind, feeling
on the part of the citizens towards the sovereign against whom they
rebelled. If any fact or circumstance could be found which was
calculated to hold him up to ridicule, it was eagerly laid hold of,
but there was no fiercer feeling.
A report was spread during the days that immediately followed the
Duke's departure that orders had been given to the officers in the
upper fortress to turn their cannon on the city at the first sign of
rising.
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