CHAP. I. Loretto,

IS a ſmall town, containing about ſix thouſand in⯑habitants, very pleaſantly ſituated on a hill, three miles from the ſea, on the Adriatic gulph, and one hundred and forty-five eaſt of Rome. The walls of Loretto are about half an Italian mile in circum⯑ference, and yield a delightful proſpect on one ſide of the ſea, and a beautiful vale, highly cultivated; and, on the other ſide of it, elegant ſuburbs, which extend to Monte Real, along a ſtrait broad road. About ſun-ſet, in clear weather, the mountains of Croatia may be diſcerned, though they are a hundred and fifty miles diſtant from Loretto.

The town is but indifferently built; the principal ſtreet conſiſts chiefly of ſmall ſhops, in which are ſold little elſe than beads for roſaries, gold and ſilver or⯑naments for the ſame, worked in fillagree; ſmall braſs bells, much bought by the country people, as [46] preſervatives againſt thunder and lightening; brown-paper caps to cure the head-ach; and broad ribbons, with the effigies of Noſtra dama di Loretto, painted on them, to be worn by women in child-birth.

The holy chapel of Loretto, which has rendered this town ſo famous through all the catholic part of Chiſtendom, was originally a ſmall houſe in Nazareth, inhabited by the virgin Mary, in which ſhe was ſa⯑luted by the angel, and where ſhe bred our Saviour. According to the hiſtory of its adventures, it was in the month of May, 1291, tranſported by angels, through the air, from Gallilee to Torſato, in Dal⯑matia; and, three years and a half after, into Italy; and on the 10th of December, in 1294, about mid⯑night, it was ſet down in a wood, in the diſtrict of Re⯑canati, about a thouſand paces from the ſea. If Turſelini may be credited, on the alighting of this ſa⯑cred houſe, from its aerial journey, all the trees, and ſhrubs in the wood, bowed with the greateſt reverence, and continued in that reſpectful poſture, as long as the ſacred chapel remained among them. Eight months after, it was again removed one thouſand paces nearer to Recanati; and at laſt, as it were with more mature deliberation, depoſited in its preſent place. One can⯑not but be amazed at the credit given to ſo abſurd, and ridiculous a fable; and the more ſo, as all catho⯑lic countries have been thereby voluntarily drawn into [47] ſuch oneroſe contributions; it being notorious that, owing to the received chronology of this miraculous tranſmigration, the ſacred houſe had been placed in Italy, and its fame much celebrated; even long before ſome papiſtical writers gave out they had ſought for it, and found it at Nazareth.

The ſacred chapel ſtands due eaſt and weſt, at the farther end of a large church of the moſt durable ſtone of Iſtria; which has been built round it. This may be conſidered as the external covering, or a kind of great coat, to the caſa ſancta; which has a ſmaller coat, of more precious materials and workmanſhip, nearer its body. This internal covering, or caſe, is of of the choiceſt marble, and ornamented with bas re⯑liefs; the ſubjects of which are, the hiſtory of the bleſſed virgin, and other parts of the bible. The whole caſe is about fifty feet long, thirty in breadth, and the ſame in height; but the real houſe itſelf is no more than thirty-two feet in length, fourteen in breadth, and, at the ſides, about eighteen feet in height; the centre of the roof is four or five feet higher. The walls, of this little holy chapel, are compoſed of pieces of a reddiſh ſubſtance, of an ob⯑long ſquare ſhape, laid one upon another, in the man⯑ner of brick. At firſt ſight, on a ſuperficial view, theſe red-coloured oblong ſubſtances appear to be no⯑thing more than common Italian bricks; and, which [48] is ſtill more extraordinary, on a ſecond and third view, with all poſſible attention, they ſtill have the ſame appearance. There is not, however, it is aſſured, a ſingle particle of brick in their whole compoſition; being entirely of a ſtone, which, though it cannot now be found in Paleſtine, was formerly very common, particularly in the neighbourhood of Nazareth. There is a ſmall interval between the walls of the an⯑cient houſe, and the marble caſe. The workmen, at firſt intended them to be in contact, from an opinion, founded either upon groſs ignorance, or infidelity, that the former ſtood in need of ſupport from the latter; the marble, ſay they, ſtarted back of itſelf, from ſuch impious familiarity; or elſe was thruſt back by the coyneſs of the virgin brick.

Above the door there is an inſcription; by which it appears, that any perſon, who enters with arms, is, ipſo facto, excommunicated. There are alſo the ſe⯑vereſt denunciations againſt thoſe, who carry away the ſmalleſt particle of the ſtone and mortar belong⯑ing to this chapel. The perſon who attended us, ſays Moore, took us aſide, and told us, in a very ſerious manner, that ſtrangers were apt ſecretly to break little pieces of ſtone belonging to the ſancta caſa, in hopes that ſuch precious relics might bring them good for⯑tune; but he earneſtly entreated us not to do any ſuch thing: for he knew a perſon at Venice, who had [49] broken off a ſmall corner of one of the ſtones, and ſlipt it into his breeches pocket unobſerved; but ſo far from bringing him good fortune, it had burnt its way, like aqua-fortis, before he left the chapel; and ſcorched his thighs in ſuch a terrible manner, that he was not able to ſit on horſeback for a month. Had it not been for the impreſſions ſuch ſtories as theſe make, ſo great was the eagerneſs of the multitude to be poſſeſſed of any portion of this little edifice, that the whole was in danger of being carried away; not by angels, but by piece-meal, in the pockets of the pilgrims.

The holy houſe is divided, within, into two equal portions, by a kind of grate-work of ſilver. In the larger diviſion, which may be conſidered as the main body of the houſe, the walls are left bare, to ſhew the true original fabric of Nazareth ſtone. Theſe ſtones, which bear ſuch a ſtrong reſemblance to bricks, are looſe in many places. I took notice of this, ſays Moore, to a pilgrim; he ſmiled, ſaying, "Be not afraid, my good ſir, theſe walls are more firm than the Apen⯑nines." At the lower, or entrance wall, there is a window; the ſame, they ſay, through which the angel Gabriel entered, at the annunciation. The architraves of this window are covered with ſilver. There are a great number of gold and ſilver lamps in this chapel; one of them is a preſent from the republic of Venice; [50] it is of gold, and weighs thirty-ſeven pounds: ſome of the ſilver lamps weigh, from one hundred and twenty, to one hundred and thirty pounds. At the upper end of the largeſt room is an altar; but ſo low, that from it may be ſeen the famous image which ſtands over the chimney, in the ſmaller of the two diviſions, which is called the ſanctuary. Gold and ſilver an⯑gels, of conſiderable ſize, kneel around her; ſome offering hearts of gold, enriched with diamonds; and one, an infant of pure gold. The figure, of the vir⯑gin herſelf, by no means correſponds with the fine furniture of her houſe; ſhe is a little woman, about four feet in height, with the features and complexion of a negro. Of all the ſculptors that ever exhibited, aſſuredly St. Luke, by whom the friar is ſaid to have been made, is the leaſt of a flatterer; and nothing can be a ſtronger proof of the bleſſed virgin's con⯑tempt for external beauty, than her being ſatisfied with this repreſentation of her; eſpecially if her face, and perſon, really reſembled thoſe beautiful ideas of her, conveyed by the pencils of Raphael, Corregio, and Guido. The figure of the infant Jeſus, by St. Luke, is of a piece with that of the virgin; he holds a large globe in one hand, and the other is extended in the act of bleſſing. Both figures have crowns on their heads, enriched with diamonds; theſe were preſents from Anne of Auſtria, Queen of France. Both arms of the virgin are encloſed within her robes, and no [51] part but her face is to be ſeen; her dreſs is moſt mag⯑nificent; but in a wretched bad taſte. She has par⯑ticular clothes for the different feſtivals held in ho⯑nour of her: and, what does not appear ſo very de⯑cent, is dreſſed, and undreſſed, by the prieſts.

There is a ſmall place behind the ſanctuary, into which ſtrangers, of decent appearance, are ſeldom re⯑fuſed admittance. In this they ſhew the chimney, and ſome other furniture, which they pretend be⯑longed to the virgin, when ſhe lived at Nazareth; particularly a little earthen porringer, out of which the infant uſed to eat. The pilgrims bring roſaries, little crucifixes, and agnus dei's, which the obliging prieſt ſhakes for half a minute in this diſh: after which, it is believed, they acquire the virtue of curing various diſeaſes, and prove an excellent preventative againſt all the temptations of Satan. The gown, which the image had on, when the chapel arrived from Nazareth, is of red camblet, and carefully kept in a glaſs ſhrine.

Above a hundred maſſes are daily ſaid in this cha⯑pel; and in the church, in which it ſtands. The muſic is remarkably fine. A certain number of the chaplains are eunuchs.

[52]The jewels and riches to be ſeen, at any one time, in the holy chapel, are of ſmall value, in compariſon of thoſe in the treaſury; which is a large room ad⯑joining the veſtry of the great church. In the preſſes of this room are kept thoſe preſents, which royal, noble, and rich bigots, of all ranks, have, by oppreſſ⯑ing their ſubjects, and injuring their families, ſent to this place. To enumerate every particular would fill volumes. They conſiſt of various utenſils, and other things in ſilver and gold; as lamps, candleſticks, goblets, crowns, and crucifixes; lambs, eagles, ſaints, apoſtles, angels, virgins, and infants: then there are cameos, pearls, gems, and precious ſtones of all kinds, and in great numbers. What is valued, above all the other jewels, is the miraculous pearl; wherein they aſſert, that nature has given a faithful delineation of the virgin, ſitting on a cloud, with the infant Jeſus in her arms.

It is ſaid that theſe pieces are occaſionally melted down, by his Holineſs, for the uſe of the ſtate: and alſo that the moſt precious of the jewels are picked out, and ſold for the ſame purpoſe; falſe ſtones being ſubſtituted in their room. This is an affair, however, entirely between the Virgin and the Pope; if ſhe does not complain, there is no other perſon, who has a right to do it.

[53]Pilgrimages to Loretto are not ſo frequent, with foreigners, or with perſons of fortune and diſtinction, as formerly; nineteen, out of twenty, of thoſe who make this journey now, are poor people, who depend for their maintenance on the charity they receive on the road. To thoſe who are of ſuch a rank in life, as precludes them from availing themſelves of the cha⯑ritable inſtitutions for the maintenance of pilgrims, ſuch journies are attended with expence, and incon⯑venience; and fathers and huſbands, in moderate cir⯑cumſtances, are frequently brought into diſagreeable dilemmas, by the raſh vow of going to Loretto; which their wives and daughters are apt to make, on any ſuppoſed deliverance from danger. To refuſe, is conſidered by the whole neighbourhood as cruel, and even impious; and to grant, is often highly diſtreſſ⯑ing; and particularly to ſuch huſbands as, from af⯑fection, or any other motive, do not chuſe that their wives ſhould be long out of their fight. But to the poor, who are maintained during their whole journey, and have nothing more than a ſcanty ſubſiſtence to ex⯑pect from their labour at home, Loretto is a party of pleaſure, as well as devotion; and by much the moſt agreeable road they can take to heaven. It being a year of Jubilee, ſays Moore, when we viſited this place, there was a far greater concourſe of pilgrims, of all ranks, than is uſual. We ſaw a few in their carriages, a greater number on horſeback, or on [54] mules; or what is ſtill more common, on aſſes. Great numbers of females come in this manner, with a male friend walking by them, as their guide and protector: but the greateſt number, of both ſexes, are on foot. As we approached near Loretto, the road was crouded with them: they generally ſet out before ſun riſe; and having repoſed themſelves, during the heat of the day, continue their journey again in the even⯑ing. They ſing their matins, and their evening hymns, aloud. As many have fine voices, and delicate ears, their vocal concerts have a charming effect, at a little diſtance. During the ſtillneſs of the morning, and the evening, we were ſerenaded with this ſolemn, religious muſic, for a conſiderable part of the road. The pil⯑grims on foot, as ſoon as they enter the ſuburbs, be⯑gin a hymn, in honour of the virgin; which they continue till they reach the church. The poorer ſort are received into an hoſpital, where they have bed and board for three days.

In the great church, which contains the holy cha⯑pel, are confeſſionals, where the penitents, from every country of Europe, may be confeſſed in their own language; prieſts being always in waiting for that purpoſe; each of them has a long white rod in his hand, with which he touches thoſe, to whom he thinks proper to give abſolution. They place themſelves on their knees in groupes, around the confeſſional [55] chair; and when the holy father has touched their heads with the expiatory rod, they retire, freed from the burthen of their ſins; and with renewed courage to begin a freſh account.

In the ſpacious area, before the church, there is an elegant marble fountain, ſupplied with water from an adjoining hill, by an aqueduct. Few, even of the moſt inconſiderable towns of Italy, are without the uſeful ornament of a public fountain. The embel⯑liſhments of architecture and ſculpture are employed, with great propriety, on ſuch works as are continually in the people's view; the air is refreſhed, and the eye delighted, by the ſtreams of water they pour forth; a fight peculiarly agreeable in a warm climate. In this area there is alſo a ſtatue of Sixtus V. in bronze. Over the portal of the church is a ſtatue of the vir⯑gin; and above the middle gate is a Latin inſcription, importing, that within is the houſe of the mother of God, in which the Word was made fleſh. The gates of the church are likewiſe of bronze, embelliſhed with bas reliefs, of admirable workmanſhip; the ſub⯑jects taken partly from the Old, and partly from the New Teſtament, and divided into different com⯑partments.

As the gates of this church are ſhut at noon, the pilgrims, who arrive after that hour, can get no nearer [56] to the ſancta caſa than theſe gates; which are, by this means, expoſed to the firſt violence of the holy ar⯑dour which was deſigned for the chapel itſelf. And all the ſculpture on the gates, within reach of the mouths of theſe holy zealots, is, in ſome degree, ef⯑faced by their kiſſes. The murder of Abel happens to be in that part of the ſculpture which is on a level with the lips of a perſon of ordinary ſize, when kneel⯑ing. Poor Abel! had he been placed a foot higher, or a foot lower, he might have remained in ſecurity for ages; but in the unlucky part that the ſculptor has put him, his whole body has been, almoſt, entirely kiſſed away by the pilgrims; whilſt his brother Cain ſtands untouched, in his original attitude, frowning, and as fierce as ever.

Of the paintings to be ſeen here, there are two in the treaſury very highly eſteemed. The ſubject of one of theſe is the Virgin's Nativity, by Annibal Ca⯑racci; and of the other, the Holy Family, by Raphael. There are likewiſe ſome others, which ornament the altars of the great church. Theſe altars, or little chapels, of which this fabric contains a great number, are lined with marble, and embelliſhed by ſculpture; but nothing within this church is ſo intereſting as the iron grates, before the chapels, which are made of the fetters, and chains, of the chriſtian ſlaves, freed from bondage by the glorious victory of Lepanto.

[57]The ideas that ruſh into one's mind, on hearing a a circumſtance of this kind, are affecting beyond ex⯑preſſion, To think of four thouſand of our fellow-creatures, torn from the ſervice of their country, and the arms of friendſhip, chained to oars, ſubjected con⯑tinually to the revilings of enemies, and every kind of ignominious treatment; and when their ſouls were ſinking under the weight of ſuch accumulated cala⯑mity, and brought to the very verge of deſpair—at once, in one bleſſed moment, to be freed from ſlavery, reſtored to the embraces of their friends, and enjoy with them all the raptures of victory—God! what a ſcene! What a number of ſcenes! For the imagina⯑tion, after glancing upon the whole, diſtinguiſhes and ſe⯑parates objects, and forms a thouſand groupes, of the moſt pathetic kind; the fond recognition of old com⯑panions, brothers flying into each others arms, and the extacy of fathers, on the recovery of their loſt ſons.

Such are the pictures that fancy repreſents, when contemplating thoſe grates, ſo truly ornamental of a chriſtian church; and ſo perfectly congenial with a religion, requiring men to relieve the oppreſſed, and ſet the captive free.

About ten pilgrims arrive every year, on an aver⯑age, from England, at Loretto; where the people be⯑lieve, thoſe of the Roman Catholic religion keep up [58] more ſtrictly to the principles of their faith, than thoſe of France, or Italy.

The people of Loretto, whatever reaſon they may have to depend on the inviſible protection of the vir⯑gin, eſpecially as to what concerns the treaſury con⯑ſecrated to her, do not think it adviſable to put her to the trial; for the window of the treaſury is not only ſtrongly barred up, but the city is alſo fortified.

Theſe fortifications are indeed a ſufficient ſecurity againſt any ſudden attack of pirates, but elſe of little importance; for, in many places, the houſes ſupply the place of walls.

Loretto is generally without a garriſon; ſo that it ſeems ſtrange the Turks have not made greater ef⯑forts, for getting into their hands the precious booty it contains, than they have hitherto done. The Ro⯑man Catholics indeed affirm, that in all the attempts which the Turks have made againſt Loretto, they have either been repelled by ſome extraordinary miracle, or miſcarried by a ſuper-natural panic. But all theſe miracles have not prevented the inhabitants, upon the leaſt appearance of danger, from ſending away the treaſure to Ancona, or ſome other place of ſecurity. Another reaſon why the Turks do not make any for⯑mal attempt upon this place, may, probably, be ow⯑ing [59] to the ſhallowneſs of the Adriatic, which has not a depth of water ſufficient for large ſhips to approach the ſhore. Beſides, Loretto being three Italian miles from the ſea, and in an open country, no deſcent can be made with ſuch ſecrecy, as not to alarm the whole neighbourhood, who are ready to ſacrifice their lives in defence of the virgin, and would ſoon be under arms. The burghers amount to above three hundred, and the inhabitants, in the town and ſuburbs, are reckoned to exceed ſeven thouſand; and beſides, a Turkiſh ſquadron is no ſooner known to be at ſea, than a ſtrong garriſon is immediately ſent here.

The only trade of Loretto conſiſts of roſaries, cru⯑cifixes, little Madonas, and medals, which are manu⯑factured here, and ſold to pilgrims. There are great numbers of ſhops full of theſe commodities, ſome of them at a high price; but infinitely the greater part adapted to the purſes of the buyers, and ſold for a mere trifle. The evident poverty of theſe manufac⯑turers, and traders, and of the inhabitants of this town in general, is a ſufficient proof that the reputation of our lady of Loretto is greatly on the decline.

CHAP. II. Ancona.

THE diſtance from Loretto to Ancona is fifteen Italian miles; and the road lies through a charm⯑ing plain, interſected by the rivers Muſone and Arpido. Here we cannot but obſerve that in no other chain of mountains are ſo many ſources of brooks, and rivers, to be found, as on the eaſt ſide of the Apennines.

Ancona, at a diſtance, is one of the moſt ſtriking proſpects in Italy; it ſtands both on the ſummit, and the brow of a hill. It has a mole, a fine citadel, and, in ſhort, is a flouriſhing town. It is hardly to be ex⯑preſſed, ſays Sharp, how beautiful the environs of An⯑cona are; the road is hilly, but the gradual wavings of the vineyards, and arable grounds, afford the moſt pleaſing images of peace and plenty. The Adriatic, near the road, on one hand; and the Apennines, at the diſtance, perhaps, of thirty miles, on the other, ſeem to beautify the proſpect.

[61]This town is ſaid to have been founded by the Sy⯑racuſians, who fled from the tyranny of Dionyſius. The town originally was built on a hill; but the houſes have been gradually extended, down the face of the eminence, towards the ſea. The cathedral ſtands on the higheſt part; from whence there is a moſt advantageous view of the town, the country, and the ſea. This church is ſuppoſed to be placed on the ſpot where a temple, dedicated to Venus, formerly ſtood; the ſame mentioned by Juvenal, when he ſpeaks of a large turbot caught on this coaſt, and pre⯑ſented to the Emperor Domitian.

The aſcents and deſcents, and great inequality of ground, will prevent this from being a beautiful town; but it has much the appearance of becoming a rich one. Some of the nobility have the firmneſs, and good ſenſe, to deſpiſe an ancient prejudice, and avowedly proſecute commmerce. New houſes are daily building, and the ſtreets are animated with the daily buſtle of trade. I met, ſays Moore, with ſeveral Engliſh traders on the change; which ſeemed crouded with ſea-faring men, and merchants, from Dalmatia, Greece, and many parts of Europe. There are great numbers of Jews eſtabliſhed in this city; and it is generally remarked, that thoſe places are in a thriving condition, to which they reſort. They have a ſyna⯑gogue here; and, although all religions are tolerated, [62] theirs is the only foreign worſhip, allowed to be pub⯑licly exerciſed. The commerce of Ancona has in⯑creaſed very rapidly of late years; and it is evident that the popes, who firſt thought of making it a free-port, of encouraging manufactures, and building a mole to render the harbour more ſafe, have injured Venice in a more ſenſible manner, than thoſe who thundered bulls againſt that republic; but it is much to be queſtioned whether the former, by their encou⯑ragements to commerce, have augmented their own ſpiritual importance, in the ſame proportion they have the temporal riches of their ſubjects.

Men who have received a liberal education, and have adopted liberal ſentiments, previous to their en⯑gaging in any particular profeſſion, will carry thoſe ſentiments along with them through life; and perhaps there is no profeſſion in which they can be exerciſed with more advantage, and utility, than in that of a merchant. In this profeſſion, a man of the character above deſcribed, while he is augmenting his own pri⯑vate fortune, will enjoy the agreeable reflection that he is likewiſe increaſing the riches, and power of his country; and giving bread to thouſands of his induſ⯑trious countrymen. Of all profeſſions, his is, in its nature, the moſt independent: the merchant does not, like the ſoldier, receive wages from his ſovereign; nor, like the lawyer and phyſician, from his fellow-ſubjects. [63] His wealth often flows from foreign ſources, and he is is under no obligation to thoſe from whom it is derived. The habit which he is in, of circulating millions, makes him lay leſs ſtreſs on a few guineas, than the proprietors of the largeſt eſtates; and we daily ſee, in countries where this proſeſſion is not con⯑ſidered as degrading, the commercial parts of the in⯑habitants giving the moſt exalted proofs of generoſity, and public ſpirit.

But in countries where no one, who has the ſmalleſt claim to the title of gentleman, can engage in com⯑merce, without being thought to have demeaned him⯑ſelf, fewer examples of this nature will be found: and, in every country it muſt be acknowledged that thoſe who have not had the advantage of a liberal educa⯑tion, who have been taught to conſider money as the moſt valuable of all things; and who are continually revolving in their minds, the various means of increaſ⯑ing their ſtock; it ſwells in their imagination beyond its real worth; and, at length, by an inverſion of the chriſtian precept, is conſidered as the one thing need⯑ful; to be ſought with the moſt unremitting ardour, that all things may be added thereto.

In commercial towns, where all find employment, and are agitated by the buſtle of buſineſs, the minds of the inhabitants are apt to be ſo much engroſſed with the affairs of this world, as almoſt to forget that [64] there is another; and neither the true religion, nor falſe ones, have ſuch faſt hold of their minds, as in places where there is more poverty and leſs worldly occupation. In the firſt, they conſider the remon⯑ſtrances of prieſts and confeſſors, as interruptions to buſineſs; and without daring to deſpiſe the ceremonies of religion, the hurried trader huddles them over as faſt as poſſible, that he may return to occupations more congenial with the habit of his mind. The preach⯑ers may cry aloud, and proclaim the vanity of this world, and all it contains; but men, who have been trained to the purſuit of money from their childhood, who have beſtowed infinite pains to acquire it, and who derive all their importance from it, muſt natu⯑rally have a partiality for this world, where riches procure ſo many flattering diſtinctions; and a preju⯑dice againſt that, in which they procure none; but, in towns where there is little trade, and great num⯑bers of poor people, where they have much ſpare time, and ſmall comfort in this world, the clergy have an eaſier taſk, if they are tolerably aſſiduous, in turn⯑ing the attention of the inhabitants to the other. In Roman Catholic towns, of this deſcription, we ſee the people continually pacing up and down the ſtreets, with wax tapers in their hands. They liſten, with fond attention, to all the prieſt relates concerning that inviſible country, that land of promiſe, where their hopes are centered; they ruminate, with complacency, [65] on the happy period, when they alſo ſhall have their good things; they bear their preſent rage with pati⯑ence, in expectation of the white raiment,, and crowns of gold, which they are told await them; they lan⯑guiſh for the happineſs of being promoted to that lofty ſituation, from whence they may look down, with ſcorn, on thoſe to whom they now look up with envy; and where they ſhall retaliate on their wealthy neigh⯑bours, whoſe riches, at preſent, they imagine, inſult their poverty.

This town being expoſed, by the nature of its com⯑merce with Turkey, to the contagious diſeaſes which prevail in that country, Clement XII. as ſoon as he determined to make it a free-port, erected a lazaretto. It advances a little way into the ſea; and is a very noble, as well as uſeful, edifice. He afterwards be⯑gan a work as neceſſary, and ſtill more expenſive; and that is the mole, built in the ſea, to ſcreen the veſſels in the harbour from the winds; which fre⯑quently blow, from the oppoſite ſhore of the Adriatic, with great violence. This was carried on with re⯑doubled ſpirit by Benedict XIV. after his quarrel with Venice; has been continued by the ſucceeding popes, and is now almoſt finiſhed. This building was founded in the ruins of the ancient mole, raiſed by the Emperor Trajan. The ſtone of Iſtria was uſed at firſt, till the exportation of it was prohibited, by the [66] republic of Venice; who had no reaſon to wiſh well to this work. But a quarry of excellent ſtone was after⯑wards found, near Ancona, as fit for the purpoſe; and a kind of ſand, which, when mixed with lime, forms a compoſition as hard as any ſtone, is brought from the neighbourhood of Rome; and no other is uſed for this building; which is above two thouſand feet in length, one hundred in breadth, and about ſixty in depth, from the ſurface of the ſea. A ſtupendous work, more analogous to the power and revenues of ancient, than modern Rome.

Near to this ſtands the triumphal arch, as it is called, of Trajan. This is an honorary monument, erected in gratitude to the emperor, for the improve⯑ments he made in the harbour, at his own expence. Next to the Maiſon quarrée, at Nimus, it is the moſt beautiful, and moſt entire monument extant, of Ro⯑man taſte and magnificence. The fluted Corinthian pillars, on the two ſides, are of the fineſt propor⯑tions; and the Parian marble, of which they are compoſed, inſtead of having acquired a black colour, like the ducal palace of Venice, and other buildings of marble, is preſerved, by the ſea-vapour, as white and ſhining, as if it were freſh poliſhed from the rock.

The inhabitants of Ancona, eſpecially the female ſex, ſo far excel thoſe of the other parts of Italy, in [67] ſhape and complexion, that they ſeem to be quite a different race of men. The ſame may be obſerved of the inhabitants beyond Senegallia, Fano, and Peſaro, as far as Rincini. If it be true that the reſort of young gentlemen to the univerſities, and the numerous retinue of a court, greatly contribute to render Leip⯑ſick, Hall, and Dreſden, as it were the nurſeries of fine women; the ſuperior beauty of the female ſex at Fano, Ancona, &c. may likewiſe be attributed to the great number of ſtrangers, and pilgrims, continually travelling through thoſe cities.

The dreſs of the people of Ancona, according to Miſſon, is very ſingular. He obſerved, on their feſ⯑tivals, that the principal inhabitants wore black clothes, lined with green; blue ſtockings; ſhoes whitened with chalk, and tied with coloured ribbons; their waiſtcoats unbuttoned, and the cuffs of their ſleeves embroidered; their ſhirts fall, and hang over their finger's ends. The wives, and daughters, of the ordinary claſs of citizens, wore head-dreſſes, with long fringes, hanging over their faces; the body of their gowns were of red and yellow ſilk, laced all over with broad ſeams of gold, or ſilver lace, like a livery; their petticoats very ſhort, and of a hundred different colours. The ladies of quality were dreſſed after the French faſhions, but looked ſo very auk⯑ward, [68] that they even made a more fantaſtical, and ri⯑diculous appearance, than the citizens.

About fifteen miles from Ancona lies Senegallia; another ſea-port, upon this coaſt. There is nothing remarkable in this town, except during the time of the great fair, which is held once a year; to which a great concourſe of merchants reſort from Venice, and all towns, on both ſides of the Adriatic; alſo from Si⯑cily, and the Archipelago. England carries on a very profitable trade with this, and all the other towns of Romagnia; from which our merchants purchaſe great quantities of raw ſilk, and afterwards ſell it, when manufactured, to the inhabitants. They pro⯑vide them alſo with Engliſh cotton, and linen cloths, of every kind.

A few miles on this ſide Fano, in the road to Bo⯑logna, near the river Metro, is the ſpot where Claudius Nero, the Roman conſul, defeated Aſdrubal, the bro⯑ther of Hannibal. This was, perhaps, the moſt im⯑portant victory the Romans ever gained; for, had Aſdrubal been victorious, or been able to effect a junction with his brother, the troops he brought from Spain would have become of triple value, as ſoon as they were under the direction of Hannibal; and it is not improbable that, with ſuch a reinforcement, that moſt conſummate general would have put an end to [69] the Roman ſtate; and the glory of Carthage would have begun, where that of Rome ended.

The diſtance from Senegallia to Fano is ſixteen miles. This town derives its name from a temple of fortune, which ſtood here in the time of the Romans. All the towns of Italy, however religious they may be, are proud of their connexions with theſe cele⯑brated heathens. An image of the goddeſs Fortune is erected on the fountain in the market-place; and the inhabitants ſhew ſome ruins, which they pretend belong to the ancient temple of Fortune; but what cannot be diſputed are, the ruins of a triumphal arch, in white marble, erected in honour of Auguſtus; and which was greatly damaged by the artillery of Pope Paul the ſecond, when he beſieged this town, in the year 1463. The churches of this town are adorned with ſome excellent pictures; there is one, particularly, in the cathedral church, by Guercino, which is much admired. The ſubject is the marriage of Joſeph; it conſiſts of three principal figures; the High Prieſt, Joſeph, and the Virgin.

The other towns which we ſhall juſt ſlightly touch upon, before we treat of Bologna and its territories, are, Peſaro, Rimini, and Ravenna; which all lie on the coaſt of the Adriatic. Peſaro lies about eighteen Italian miles from Fano. It is a very agreeable [70] town; better built, and paved, than many on this coaſt. In the market-place there is a handſome foun⯑tain; and a ſtatue of Pope Urban the eighth, in a ſit⯑ting poſture. In the churches of this town are ſome pictures by Baroccio, a painter, whoſe works ſome eſteem very highly; and who is thought to have imi⯑tated the manner of Raphael, and the tints of Corregio, not without ſucceſs. He lived about the middle of the ſixteenth century; and his colours ſeem to have improved by time; but the operation of ſun and air, on pictures, bringing all the colours to a kind of uni⯑ſon, occaſions what is called harmony; and is thought an improvement on ſome pictures. This road, along the Adriatic coaſt, is extremely pleaſant.

The Peſaro figs are accounted the beſt in all Italy; and even preferred to thoſe of Sclavonia.

Rimini, the next ſtage on the road to Bologna, was famous in antiquity; and ſtill contains ſome monu⯑ments, worthy the attention of the curious traveller. It is the ancient Ariminum; the firſt town of which Coeſar took poſſeſſion, after paſſing the Rubicon. In the market-place there is a kind of ſtone pedeſtal, with an inſcription; declaring, that on it Coeſar had ſtood, and harrangued his army. Rimini had formerly a good harbour; but it is now ſo choaked with ſand, as ſcarce to afford depth of water for paſſage-boats.

[71]Between this town and Ravenna is the river of Piſ⯑catello, the famous Rubicon, which was the ancient boundary between Italy and Ciſalpine Gaul. No Roman, returning to Rome, could paſs in arms be⯑yond this; without being deemed an enemy to his country. The ſmall town of Ceſenate is ſituated near the brook; and the inhabitants value themſelves, not a little, upon their vicinity to ſo celebrated a neigh⯑bour.

Ravenna, abſurdly ſuppoſed by ſome learned men, to be founded by Eſau, was, not only during the gran⯑deur of ancient Rome, but a conſiderable time after, famous for the Exarchs; of which it was the ſeat. At one period it was the ſeat of empire; for, after Attila had left Italy, Valentinian choſe Ravenna, in prefer⯑ence to Rome, for his reſidence; that he might al⯑ways be ready to repel the Huns, and other barbari⯑ans, who poured from the banks of the Danube, and prevent their penetrating into Italy. The ſame rea⯑ſon afterwards induced Theodoric, king of the Oſtro⯑goths, to keep his court at this city of Ravenna; after he had defeated, and killed, Odoacer, and aſſumed the title of king of Rome. The ruins of his palace, and his tomb, now form part of the antiquities of this town; which is ſituated three miles from the Adriatic ſea; a hundred miles north-weſt from Ancona; and eighty ſouth of Venice; being ſurrounded by two ſmall ri⯑vers. [72] Its ancient ſituation is ſaid to have been like that of Venice, upon certain iſlands, when it was one of the beſt harbours the Romans had on that coaſt.

The buildings are, in general, very indifferent; the magnificent churches, and palaces, it formerly con⯑tained, are verging faſt to ruin; the trade is gone, and the town very thinly inhabited,

How ſcarce good ſpring-water, fit for drinking was, anciently, at Ravenna, appears from Martial, who ſays, in his fifth book:

And again,

[73]In paſſing through Ravenna, ſays Lady Millar, we experienced the truth of what is ſaid concerning the badneſs, as well as ſcarcity, of water: it is boiled, in order to be rendered wholeſome; and is ſo thick, from the number of animalculoe contained in it, as to require to be ſtrained; and, after all, it ſtinks abo⯑minably. The wine is excellent; richer than Cy⯑prus. When we changed horſes we obſerved that the poſt-boys had brought water with them, to ex⯑change for an equal quantity of wine, which was done in our preſence.

Ravenna is now only a vaſt ſolitude, conſidering its ſize; though the ſtreets are large, ſtrait, and regu⯑lar, with ſquares and fountains: and moſt of its ſacred edifices are ſtately remains of its ancient ſplendor. There are two hoſpitals in this town; the cleanlineſs of which would be admired, even in Holland; ſo that citizens, of all ranks, make them their refuge in time of ſickneſs; as being every way better attended, and provided for, than they can expect to be at their own houſes.

Amidſt all theſe remains of its ancient ſplendor, Ravenna is now only magni nominis umbra, the ſhadow of a great name. It has neither commerce or manu⯑factures; the bulk of its inhabitants are idle nobles, who make the intereſt of the different princes of Eu⯑rope [74] the only object of their ſtudies. The great ſquare, where they meet every evening, is geometri⯑cally divided between the two contending parties; one of which is careful never to ſet its foot on the others ground; on only croſſing this ſquare it may be ſeen, in time of any continental war, which ſide has the better; this is manifeſt in the exultation of the victors, and the dejection of the loſing party. News is ex⯑pected there, with more impatience, than in the cabi⯑net of any one ſovereign of Europe.

In a convent, belonging to the Benedictines, is a com⯑plete collection of medicaments for treating diſeaſes of all kinds; and every imaginable expedient for the con⯑venience of the ſick. Beſides a well-furniſhed labo⯑ratory, and an excellent phyſic garden; here are ſix large rooms on a floor. In the firſt is a complete ſet of pieces of anatomy; then all the inſtruments con⯑trived for chirurgical operations; together with thread, needles, tents, bandages, ſuitable to every operation; laſtly, a ſtorehouſe of beds, ſheets, bed cloaths, couches, pillows, cut out, and prepared for the ready uſe of every kind of diſeaſe, with all poſſible convenience to thoſe who attend the patients. Theſe ſtores are diſtributed in large preſſes, which line the ſix rooms, and are of very neat workmanſhip. For thoſe diſorders, which require riding, there is a moſt ingenious inven⯑tion. It is a large dragon, ſuſpended in the middle [75] of one of theſe rooms; which, by means of clock-work, has all the motions of a horſe.

CHAP. III. Bologna.

BOLOGNA, on account of its extent, the number of its nobility, and other inhabitants, and the im⯑portance of its trade, is, next to Rome, the fineſt, and moſt wealthy city in the eccleſiaſtical ſtate. Its cir⯑cuit is between five and ſix Italian miles; but the length of it greatly exceeds the breadth, and is ſup⯑poſed to reſemble a ſhip, the tower of Aſinelli be⯑ing the maſt. The number of inhabitants, in this city, is ſaid to be ninety thouſand; but the whole diſ⯑trict, which includes three hundred and eight cities, towns, and villages, contains three hundred and eighty thouſand inhabitants. The ancient name of this city was Falſina, from Falſinus, a Tuſcan king, who is ſup⯑poſed to have built it, five and twenty years before the foundation of Rome. The name of Bononia is, by ſome, derived from a ſucceſſor of Falſinus, named [76] Bonus; but others derive it from the Boji. This city had, for a long ſucceſſion of years, retained a kind of li⯑berty, under the Emperor of Germany, till the year 1278; when it was reſigned, with reſerve of ſome pri⯑vileges, to Pope Nicholas III. But, from inteſtine commotions, and wars with the neighbouring ſtates, it continued in a fluctuating ſtate till the pontificate of Pope Julius II. who, taking the advantage of the Ve⯑netian war, made himſelf abſolute maſter of it; and annexed it to the papal dominions, by expelling the family of Bentivoglio's; however, ſome of that family are the leading men of the city, even at preſent. On account of their voluntary ſubmiſſion, it was, at firſt, ſtipulated, that the Bologneſe ſhould have the privi⯑lege of keeping a nuncio at the court of Rome; that no citadel ſhould be built; and that the effects of citi⯑zens ſhould not be liable to confiſcation, on any pre⯑tence whatever. Theſe conditions have been ob⯑ſerved, with a degree of punctuality, and good faith, which many zealous proteſtants would not expect, in the church of Rome.

Bologna, ſays Moore, retains the name of a repub⯑lic, ſends an ambaſſador to the Pope's court, and the word libertas is inſcribed on the arms, and coin of the ſtate; with the flattering capitals S. P. Q. R. The civil government, and police of the town, is allowed to remain in the hands of the magiſtrates, who are [77] choſen by the ſenate, which formerly conſiſted of forty members; but ſince the republic came under the protection, as it is called, of the Pope, he thought proper to add ten more; but the whole fifty ſtill re⯑tain the name of the Quaranta. Mankind, in general, are more alarmed by a change of name, in things which they have long regarded with veneration, than by a real change in the nature of the things themſelves. The Pope may have had ſome good political reaſon for augmenting the number of the council to fifty; but he could have none for calling them the council of fifty, if the people choſe rather to call fifty men aſſembled together, the council of forty. One of the ſenators preſides in the ſenate, and is called the Gon⯑falonier; from his carrying the ſtandard (Gonfalone) of the republic. He is chief magiſtrate, is attended by guards, and is conſtantly at the palace, or near it, to be ready on any emergency; but he remains only two months in office, and the ſenators take it by turns.

In the midſt of all this appearance of independence, a cardinal legate, from Rome, governs this republic; he is appointed by the Pope, with a vice-legate, and other aſſiſtants. The orders, which the legate iſſues, are ſuppoſed to be with the approbation of the ſenate. The office, which is of higher dignity than any other, in the gift of the court of Rome, continues for three years; at the expiration of that time, his Holineſs either [78] appoints a new legate, or continues the old one in of⯑fice, for three years longer.

This eccleſiaſtical viceroy lives in great magnifi⯑cence, and has a numerous ſuit of pages, equeries, and halberdiers, who attend him in the city. When he goes into the country, he is accompanied by guards on horſeback.

The Gonfalonier and magiſtrates regulate all the uſual matters, which regard the police; and decide in common cauſes, according to the laws, and ancient forms of the republic; but, in affairs of great import⯑ance, there is no doubt but the cardinal legate in⯑fluences deciſions. This muſt be mortifying to the ſe⯑nators, and noble families; but is leſs felt by the peo⯑ple in general, who have every appearance of living under a mild, and beneficent government.

The inhabitants of Bologna carry on a very conſi⯑derable trade in ſilks, and velvets; which are manu⯑factured here in great perfection. The country pro⯑duces immenſe quantities of oil, wine, flax and hemp; and furniſhes all Europe with ſauſages, macaroni, li⯑queur, and eſſences. The people ſeem to be induſ⯑trious, and to be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labour; the markets are moſt plentifully ſupplied with proviſions; fruit is to be had in great variety, and all [79] excellent in its kind; the common white wine of the country is a light white wine, of an agreeable taſte. Thoſe who are not pleaſed with the entertainment they meet with at the inns, in this city, it will be a difficult matter to pleaſe; they muſt be poſſeſſed of a degree of ſuch nicety, both in their palates and tem⯑pers, as will render them exceedingly troubleſome to themſelves, and others; not only in their travels through Italy, but in their journey through life.

On his arrival at this town, the firſt object which ſtrikes the eye of a ſtranger is, a noble marble fountain, in the area before the Palazzo Publico. The prin⯑cipal figure is a ſtatue of Neptune, eleven feet in height; one of his hands is ſtretched out before him, in the other he holds a trident. The body and limbs are finely proportioned, the anatomy perfect, the charac⯑ter of the countenance ſevere and majeſtic. This fi⯑gure of Neptune, as well as all the others of boys, dol⯑phins, and ſyrens, which ſurround it, are in bronze. The whole is the workmanſhip of Giovanni di Bologna; and is highly eſteemed; yet there ſeems to be an im⯑propriety in making water flow in ſtreams, from the breaſts of ſea-nymphs, or ſyrens.

There are a great number of palaces in this city. What is called the public palace is by far the moſt ſpacious; but not the moſt elegant. In this the car⯑dinal [80] legate is lodged. There are alſo apartments for the Gonfalonier; and halls, or chambers, for ſome of the courts of juſtice. This building, though of a gloomy and irregular form without, contains ſome very magnificent apartments, and a few good pictures.

Over the entrance of this palace is a bronze ſtatue of a pope. The tiara, and other parts of the papal uniform, are not ſo favourable to the ſculptor's ge⯑nius, as the naked ſimplicity in which Neptune ap⯑pears. A female traveller, however, not extrava⯑gantly fond of the fine arts, would rather be obſerved admiring the ſculptor's ſkill in imitating the folds of the ſacerdotal robes, than the anatomical accuracy in forming the majeſtic proportions of the ſea divinity.

Though the nobility of Bologna are not now very rich; many of their palaces are furniſhed in a magni⯑ficent taſte, and contain pictures of great value. The palaces were built, and ornamented, when the propri⯑etors were richer; and when the fineſt works of ar⯑chitecture, and painting, could be procured on eaſier terms, than at preſent. The galleries, and apart⯑ments, are ſpacious and magnificent; yet there are circumſtances, in the moſt ſplendid, that muſt hurt the eye of thoſe who are accuſtomed to that perfect ex⯑actneſs in finiſhing, which prevails in Engliſh houſes. The glaſs of the windows, of ſome palaces, is divided [81] into little ſquare panes, which are joined together by lead; and the floors of all are very indifferently laid.

The moſt precious ornaments of the palaces are the paintings, and particularly thoſe of the great maſters in the art, which this city has had the honour to produce. Raphael is generally allowed to have ex⯑celled all painters in the ſublimity of his ideas, the grouping of his figures, the beauty of his heads, the elegance of his forms, and the correctneſs of his out⯑lines; yet, in the opinion of ſome, he has oftener imi⯑tated thoſe noble ideas of beauty, tranſmitted to us by the Greek ſculptors, than what he ſaw, or could ſee in nature. Thoſe who hold this opinion aſſert, that the beſt maſters of the Lombard ſchool ſtudied, with equal aſſiduity, the elegance of the antique ſtatues, and the ſimplicity of nature; and, from this combined atten⯑tion to both, with geniuſes leſs ſublime, and not ſo uni⯑verſal as that of the Roman painters, they have pro⯑duced works equal, if not ſuperior, in ſome reſpects, to his.

Next to Rome itſelf, there is, perhaps, no town in the world ſo rich in paintings as Bologna. The churches and palaces, beſides many admired pieces by other maſters, are full of the works of the great maſters, who were natives of this city. The Palazzo [82] de Monti in particular, ſhews the genius of the Italian nobility, for decorating their palaces with collections of painting, and other curioſities; who often abridge themſelves of a great many of the conveniences of life, in order to be poſſeſſed of ſomething which attracts the admiration of other people, and eſpecially of foreigners. The firſt floor of this grand edifice, con⯑ſiſting of above thirty apartments, which are by far the beſt, is never, or at leaſt very ſeldom inhabited; and then only for the reception of ſome perſon of diſ⯑tinction; the general uſe of them being to diſplay an amazing collection of paintings and other curioſities.

The profuſion of paintings in this city, ſays Groſley, made me curious to know what price the Caracci, and their pupils, uſed to put upon their works; which was nothing, when compared to what they bear at preſent. All theſe great painters, working from incli⯑nation, placed their whole ambition in the perfection of their art, and the judgment of poſterity. Guido was the only one, whoſe happineſs it was to enjoy the reputation on which he raiſed, without ſcarce know⯑ing it; a fortune that he did not keep. He had made great progreſs in his career, by having early entered on it; he had an aſtoniſhing eaſe and readineſs, which in his latter days he unfortunately abuſed; and the fortune he accumulated, he owed to the homage paid him on account of his admired talents by foreigners, [83] and ſovereigns. The vexations, enmities, and croſſes, which embittered the lives of theſe famous men, and actually ſhortened the days of moſt of them, are facts corroborating the many inſtances, that eminent genius and reputation, ſo far from being productive of hap⯑pineſs, very often proves a misfortune. The Caracci might have lived very happy as taylors, but then their names would never have been heard of.

In the laſt century, there was at Bologna a man of that calling, who was very famous for his knowledge of pictures, and his ſkill in diſcerning their reſpective merits, and the ſtiles of the different ſchools and maſters. This taylor was a very great politician, and his ſhop was the office of intelligence for all the news which the court of Verſailles wiſhed to have ſpread in Italy; as a connoiſſeur in pictures, and a politician. Lewis XIV. allowed him a penſion; and ſuch was his zeal for that monarch, that he actually died of the ſhock he received on the news of the battle of Ramilies.

The univerſity of Bologna is one of the moſt an⯑cient, and moſt celebrated ſeats of literature in Europe; and the academy for the arts and ſciences, founded by Count Marſigli, at the beginning of the preſent cen⯑tury, is ſufficient of itſelf to engage ſtrangers to viſit this city, if there were nothing more worthy of their curioſity. Here is a moſt valuable library, in three [84] ſpacious rooms, where any perſon may ſtudy, and have the uſe of the books four hours every day; alſo, apartments for the ſtudents of ſculpture, painting, architecture, chemiſtry, anatomy, aſtronomy, and every branch of natural philoſophy. They are all ornamented with deſigns, models, inſtruments, and every kind of apparatus, requiſite for illuſtrating thoſe ſciences. There are alſo profeſſors, who regularly read lectures, and inſtruct the ſtudents in thoſe va⯑rious parts of knowledge. There is a hall full of models, in architecture and fortification; a valuable collection of medals, and another of natural curioſities, and a complete collection of ſpecimens, to aſſiſt the ſtudy of materia medica, and every part of natural hiſ⯑tory. A gallery of ſtatues, conſiſting of a few originals, and very fine caſts of the beſt ſtatues in Italy.

Honorary premiums are diſtributed every year, among the artiſts, for the beſt deſigns in painting, ſculpture and architecture.

The anatomical theatre is adorned with ſtatues of celebrated phyſicians; and, in the muſeum which be⯑longs to it, are abundance of anatomical preparations; alſo, a complete ſuite of anatomical figures, in wax. There are alſo models in wax of particular parts, and of ſeveral of the viſcera of the human body, ſepa⯑rately; yet, thoſe waxen models could not ſtand in [85] competition with the preparations of the real parts in Dr. Hunter's muſeum. If brought to that teſt, the Bologna wax-works, though admirable in their kind, would appear as the beſt caſts of the Vatican, Apollo, and Laocoon would; if placed beſide the originals. Indeed, the real preparations to be ſeen here, are far inferior to thoſe of that great anatomiſt, whoſe muſeum poſſeſſes the moſt complete, and moſt accurate collection of anatomical preparations, that ever was made by human ſkill and induſtry.

The principal church is that of St. Petronius, form⯑ing part of the large irregular ſquare, in which the fountain, formerly mentioned, ſtands. It is the largeſt in Bologna. In the pavement of this church, Caſſini drew his meridian line; and, within the walls of this ſame edifice, the Emperor Charles V. was crowned. Thoſe circumſtances may intereſt the aſtronomer and the hiſtorian; but, the ſtatue of a ſoldier, which ſtands in one of the chapels, engages the attention of the pious Catholic. This man being at play, and in danger of loſing all his money, offered up a very fervent prayer to the Virgin Mary, for a little better luck; to which ſhe, who never ſhewed any favour to gameſters, turned a deaf ear. When he found that his bad fortune con⯑tinued, this furious wretch drew his ſword, and wounded both the Virgin and the infant in her arms. He inſtantly, as it may be ſuppoſed, fell to the ground, [86] deprived of motion; he was carried to priſon, and condemned to a painful and ignominious death. While he remained under confinement, he came to a proper ſenſe of his wickedneſs; and, the bleſſed Vir⯑gin was ſo much ſoftened by his repentance, that ſhe reſtored him the uſe of his limbs; and, the judges taking the hint, gave him a full pardon. As a ſatis⯑factory proof of this memorable event, they ſhew the identical ſword with which the aſſault was made.

In a dominican convent, ſituated on the top of a hill, about three miles from Bologna, is a portrait of the Virgin, by St. Luke. According to Sigoni, it was brought by a hermit from the church of Sancta Sophia, at Conſtantinople, in the year 1160; and, ſince that time, its power has ſeveral times been manifeſted, ſay the inhabitants, to the great benefit of the country; on which account it is every year, in the month of May, brought into the city of Bologna, in a ſolemn proceſſion, and carried through the principal ſtreets, attended by every inhabitant, who can afford to pur⯑chaſe a wax taper. During the proceſſion, the bells continue ringing, the cannon are fired, and the troops under arms obſerve the ſame ceremonies, when the picture paſſes, as if it were the commander in chief. The common people imagine the picture is extremely fond of this annual viſit to the town of Bologna; they are convinced, that, if it were not carried, it would [87] deſcend from the frame, and walk the whole way on foot; but they do not deſire to ſee the experiment made, becauſe it might diſoblige the virgin; and, ſhould the picture once ſet out to walk, there is no knowing where it would ſtop.

For the greater convenience of the pilgrims, an arched colonade has been built from the city to the top of the mountain; which, on account of its great length, maybe accounted the moſt remarkable build⯑ing of that kind in Italy. In the contributions of the neceſſary ſums for this colonade, all the tradeſmen ſeemed to vie with each other in the erection of a per⯑petual monument of their zeal for the bleſſed virgin; even the very lacqueys of the city, were at the expence of building fifteen of the arches. Every arch is about twelve feet wide, which is the breadth of the walk. The height is above ſixteen feet. This arcade does not run in a ſtrait line, but is now and then interrupted with ſmall windings; however, in many parts of it, there are very long viſtas, particularly at the grand portico near the city; from which, one has a view of ninety-three arches in a direct line. There are thirty-three flights of ſteps to aſcend the acclivity of the mountain; three flights conſiſt of a few ſteps, and the ſpace between is level, and paved with flat ſtones.

[88]The houſes, in moſt of the principal ſtreets, have before them a kind of portico, which ſupports the ſecond ſtory. Theſe muſt be allowed to be very con⯑venient in windy or rainy weather, and in ſhading the houſes from the ſun; but they deprive them of that ornament which they would receive from a fine front, or an elegant entrance. As the pillars of theſe por⯑ticos are very irregular, ſome being very high, others very low; ſome round, ſome ſquare, others octangu⯑lar; ſome of ſtone, and others again of wood; they are no very great ornaments to the city. Theſe por⯑ticos, or galleries, ſerve only for walking; and that part of the ſtreets where the carriages paſs, is conſide⯑rably lower. The roofs of the houſes are of tiles, but flat, with a kind of parapet towards the ſtreets.

The tower degli Aſinelli is, by ſome, but erro⯑neouſly, ſaid to be the higheſt in all Italy; for the cupola of St. Peter's at Rome far exceeds it. The report of a hamper of gilt iron, hanging out of this tower, in terrorem, to confeſſors, is alſo without foun⯑dation. A monk, for divulging ſome particulars con⯑feſſed to him, having, as the ſtory goes, been put into this hamper, and left to periſh. This tower is ſquare, and the ſteps, by which it is aſcended, are of wood. It derives its name from Gerardo Aſinelli; who built it at his own expence, in 1109. It is a common ſaying here, that from the tower of Aſinelli, one has a view [89] of cento e cinque Città, i. e. a hundred and five cities. But this is no more than a pun upon the word Cento, the name of a ſmall town near Bologna. A ſimilar pun we hear in France, concerning the proſpect from a mountain near the village of Trente, between Be⯑ziers and Narbonne, viz. Jai vu d'une montagne, Trente et deux villes; i. e. I have ſeen from the top of a mountain, two and thirty cities; but it means no more than that I have ſeen the village Trente, and two cities; Trente being the French word for thirty.

Near the Aſinelli tower, is another, the inclination of which, on one ſide, is ſuch, that a plumb line, let down from the top, falls ſeven feet from the wall at the bottom. This, however, is not the only leaning tower in Italy, as we have already remarked.

The Bologneſe ladies dreſs entirely in the French faſhion. The women, of the middle claſs, generally appear in a black gown, with a black ſilk veil over their heads; but the female ſex here, in general, enjoy greater freedom than in moſt cities of Italy. We meet not a few perſons walking the ſtreets with ſpec⯑tacles on, who are yet ſo far from labouring under any weakneſs of ſight, that they roll their eyes about, on all ſides, without once looking through their glaſſes. This faſhion is of Spaniſh origin, and is ſuppoſed to be a ſign of greater gravity than ordinary, which has re⯑commended [90] it to the generality of the monks and clergy.

The Bologneſe are famous for their vivacity and wit; and particularly for the ſatyrical poignance of their jeſts. However, a ſtranger no where meets with more civility than in this town. They are very aſſiduous alſo in their application to their ſeveral trades and manu⯑factures. The nuns of this city are very ingenious in making moſt beautiful artificial flowers of ſilver, ſilk, muſlin, enamel, iſinglaſs, &c. And, though the beſt ſort of flowers are made only for preſents, yet abun⯑dance of them are to be met with in the ſhops, where travellers may buy them at a moderate price. Fruits, of all kinds, are alſo imitated in wax, ſo as ſcarcely to be diſcerned, at firſt ſight, from the products of nature.

Formerly little dogs, of the Bologna breed, brought no inconſiderable ſums to this city; but, at preſent, the ridiculous paſſion for thoſe animals is ſo far ex⯑ploded, that even in Bologna itſelf, by the decreaſe of the breed, they are become ſo ſcarce, that one of any tolerable beauty is valued at four or five guineas. It is ſaid, the means uſed for checking the growth of theſe creatures is, to rub their legs and backs, as ſoon as they are brought forth, with ſpirits of wine, and afterwards frequently to repeat the operation. If this be true, [91] the effect muſt ariſe from the heat of the liquor, which dries up the vital juices; and, poſſibly, this recipe may be better grounded than the one publiſhed at Liepſick, in 1670, among the Miſcellanea curioſa medico phyſica, viz. that if you anoint the back bone of a new-born infant, with the fat of rats, moles, and bats, it will never exceed the ſtature of a ſmall dwarf.

Many ingenious articles are here made of walnut-tree; for the country abounds with theſe trees. The quinces, which grow here, are alſo very large, and of an exquiſite flavour. Bologna is likewiſe celebrated for its Theriaca, which is openly, and with no ſmall ſo⯑lemnity, prepared in the public laboratory; and, ano⯑ther alexipharmic highly eſteemed, which is called Electuario di Martino.

CHAP. IV. Republic of Lucca.

THE republic of Lucca is not above thirty Italian miles in circumference; but the fertility of the ſoil, and the mildneſs of the government, have been ſuch attractive inducements, for ſettling here; that the inhabitants of the city, and the hundred and fifty vil⯑lages belonging to it, are computed to be, in number, one hundred and twenty thouſand; of which thirty thouſand are able to carry arms. Nothing, however, but foreign ſupport can prevent Lucca from coming under the ſubjection of the great Duke of Tuſcany; who has already found means to ſurround it, on all ſides, with his territories. Plauſible pretences for a quarrel will frequently ariſe, not only from diſputes about limits, but from the obſtinate refuſal of the Luc⯑queſe to acknowledge the family of the Medicis, great Dukes of Tuſcany; allowing them only the title of Dukes of Tuſcany. In ſuch a ſituation, a univerſal concord and harmony is neceſſary, for tranſmitting to [93] poſterity the bleſſings of their darling goddeſs Liberty; whoſe name they bear on their arms, and whoſe image is not only impreſſed on their coins, but alſo on the city gates; and on all the public buildings.

The city is three Italian miles in circumference, and is fortified with eleven baſtions; which, with the other works, are planted with two hundred and eighty pieces of cannon. The ramparts are very pleaſant; being planted all round with four rows of trees, and in ſome parts with more. The country, in which this city ſtands, is a delicious plain; terminated, on all ſides, by a chain of mountains. The ſkill, and induſ-of the inhabitants, in their ſilk, and other manufactures, have gained this city the honourable epithet of induſ⯑duſtrioſa, or, the induſtrious. The ſmall kind of olives, which grow here, are excellent; and the oil, they produce, accounted the beſt in all Italy. The city, according to Keyſler, contains about forty-four thouſand inhabitants; others, however, reckon not not more than half that number. They are much to be commended for their candour, politeneſs, and chearfulneſs. Here are ſeen more young women in the ſtreets, ſhops, churches, and ſchools, than in any other part of Italy. Their police is very commend⯑able, and great attention is ſhewn to ſuppreſs luxury, ſuperfluous magnificence, and ſuch diſſipations as of⯑ten prove ſo deſtructive to families, where no ſuch re⯑ſtraint [94] takes place. On entering the city, travellers muſt deliver up their fire-arms; but it is only inform⯑ing the guard, at what gate they intend to go out, when they leave the city, and they are ſure to find them there; they are likewiſe allowed to wear their ſwords, for three days; but, afterwards, muſt have a particular licence, which generally is granted only to perſons of high rank. No commoner, though he be one of the council, muſt appear with a ſword; and no ſoldier.

Strangers never fail to be welcomed here with an evening ſerenade; which is accompanied with an humble intimation, that they would be pleaſed to make ſome returns for ſuch an honour. The houſes are, generally, well built, and the ſtreets well paved, and broad; but moſt of them irregular.

The palace of the republic is large, and ſpacious; without any thing curious, unleſs it be an arſenal, which makes a part of it; and has always arms in rea⯑dineſs for twenty thouſand men.

On a monument in one of the churches is the following inſcription.

[95]But how the body, of any of the kings of England, came here, is what the hiſtory of the country does not mention.

Their council of ſtate is compoſed of a Doge, and nine ſenators: who are all members of the great coun⯑cil, and are changed every two months, Theſe coun⯑ſellors, who are called Elders, bear the title of Moſt Excellent; and, whilſt in office, live in the republic palace, and their expences are defrayed at the charge of the ſtate; but when they go abroad, on their own private concerns, it muſt be incognito, and in a cloſe ſedan, with the curtains drawn. A Doge is not ca⯑pable of being re-elected, till the expiration of ſeven years. The great council, above-mentioned, conſiſts of one hundred and thirty of the nobility, and one hundred and ten commoners, who are changed every two years. The palace-guard is a corps of ſeventy-five Swiſs; and the reſt of the republic's forces may conſiſt of about five hundred men. Its ordinary revenue is computed at about eighty thouſand pounds ſterling.

CHAP. V. Grand Duchy of Tuſcany.

THIS duchy borders on the Mediterranean; which, in theſe parts, receives its name from this duchy; alſo on the eccleſiaſtical ſtate, the duchy of Modena, and the republic of Lucca. Some ſmall detached parts, belonging to it, lie among the terri⯑tories of Modena, Lucca, and Genoa. Theſe parcels excepted, its extent, from North to South, is one hun⯑dred and ſixteen Engliſh miles; and, from Eaſt to Weſt, about eighty miles. The population is eſti⯑mated at a million of inhabitants.

The vines, in this country, ſays Smollet, are not planted in rows, and proped with ſticks, as in France; but twine around the hedge-row trees, nearly covering them with their foliage and fruit. The branches of the vine are extended from tree to tree; exhibiting beautiful feſtoons of real leaves, tendrils, and ſwelling cluſters, a foot long. By this economy, the ground of the encloſure is ſpared for corn, graſs, or any other production. Might not the ſame method be adapted in this country, with equal ſucceſs, in regard to hops? The trees, commonly planted for the purpoſe of ſuſ⯑taining the vines, are, maple, elm, and elder; with [98] which laſt, the banks of the Arno abound. This ri⯑ver, which is very conſiderable, with reſpect to the quantity of water, would be a charming paſtoral ſtream, if it was tranſparent; but it is always muddy, and diſcoloured.

This duchy abounds in minerals; but the mines are not much worked, except in the iſland of Elba, remarkable for its fine iron ore. The air of ſeveral places, as of Piſa, Volterra, Chiuſa, and Maſſa, is un⯑healthy, on account of the many fens, and wild deſart places. In ſome parts manna is gathered from the aſh and elm. It oozes out on taking off the rind, and and conſequently is not a production of the air, but of the tree. The bees carry off a great deal of it; the remainder is applied, in Tuſcany, to medicinal uſes; and, in France, for giving a gloſs to cloth.

On the borders of the territory of Lucca, near Piſa, are ſome hot ſprings, which are in great vogue. There are others, in different parts of this duchy, the heat of which much exceeds that of boiling water. The famous Tetruchio water is, properly a brine, and celebrated for its virtues in a diarrhaea.

The principal river in this country is the Arno, which riſes in the Apennine mountains, in the terri⯑tory of Florence, and falls into the ſea below Piſa.

[99]The whole face of Tuſcany, ſays Sharpe, is covered with farm-houſes, and cottages; an object very rare in the dominions of the Pope, and the king of Naples; but the cottages here, and indeed through all Italy, are not, as in France and England, thatched huts, with walls of mud; they are built of ſtone, or brick; and, to outward appearance, ſhould contain richer inhabi⯑tants than, in fact, they do.

A ſtriking circumſtance, though a trivial one, offers itſelf, on firſt entering the Grand Duke's territories; and this is the ingenious method of figuring their mile⯑ſtones; which might be imitated to good effect in England, as time and weather have a tendency to obliterate the figures cut in coarſe ſtone; and, what is worſe, as idle boys, in all parts of the world, are apt to make it an amuſement to deface the figures of mile⯑ſtones, and deſtroy, by that very practice, the uſe of them; the Florentines let into the figures a ſmall ſlip, or bar, of iron, which is faſtened with ſolder, in the uſual manner plumbers fix iron in ſtone; by this means the figures on the ſtones remain legible, almoſt for ever; (or, at leaſt, would do ſo, if the iron were painted black, once in two or three years) and the dif⯑ficulty of breaking them to pieces diſcourages the attempt.

The principal cities in this duchy are, Florence, Leghorn, Sienna, and Piſa.

CHAP. VI. Of the City of Florence.

THE city of Florence lies in a fruitful valley, on the river Arno, one hundred and twenty miles north of Rome, in a moſt delightful ſituation, encom⯑paſſed with beautifull hills on three ſides; full of vil⯑lages, country-ſeats, gardens, groves, and woods of olives, riſing gradually, till they join the higheſt moun⯑tains of the Apennines; and towards the weſt is that rich valley, watered by the river Arno, which extends as far as Piſa; abounding in corn, wine, oil, and all manner of delicious fruits.

The Florentines pride themſelves ſo much on the beauty of their city, that they imagine nothing can equal it; and, ſays Moore, it unqueſtionably is a very beautiful city. Independent of the churches and pa⯑laces, ſome of which are very magnificent, the archi⯑tecture of the houſes, in general, is in a good taſte; the ſtreets are remarkably clean, and paved with large [101] broad ſtones, chiſſelled ſo as to prevent the horſes from ſliding. This city is divided into two unequal parts, by the river Arno; over which there are no leſs than four bridges, in ſight of each other. That called the ponte della Trinita is uncommonly elegant. It is built entirely of white marble, and ornamented with four beautiful ſtatues, repreſenting the four ſea⯑ſons. The quays, and buildings on each ſide, and the bridges, render that part of Florence, through which the river paſſes, by far the fineſt. The ſame is the caſe at Paris; and it happens, fortunately for theſe two cities, that theſe parts are, almoſt, conſtantly be⯑fore the eye, on account of the neceſſity people are under of paſſing, and re-paſſing thoſe bridges; where⯑as in London, whoſe river, and bridges, are far ſupe⯑rior to any in France, or Italy, people may live whole ſeaſons, attend all the public amuſements, and drive every day, from one end of the town to the other, without ever ſeeing the Thames, or the bridges, un⯑leſs they go on purpoſe. For this reaſon, when a fo⯑reigner is aſked which he thinks the fineſt city, Paris or London? The moment Paris is mentioned, the Louvre, and that ſtriking part, which is ſituated be⯑tween Pont-royal and Pont-neuf, preſents itſelf to his imagination. He can recollect no part of London equal, in magnificence, to this; and ten to one, if he decides directly, it will be in favour of Paris; but, if he takes a little more time, and compares the two ca⯑pitals, [102] ſtreet by ſtreet, ſquare by ſquare, and bridge by bridge, he will probably be of a different opinion. The number of inhabitants, in Florence, is calculated at eighty thouſand. The ſtreets, ſquares, and fronts of the palaces, are adorned with a great number of ſtatues; ſome of them by the beſt maſters. A taſte for the arts muſt be kept alive, independent, almoſt, of any other encouragement, in a city where ſo many ſpecimens are continually before the the eyes of the inhabitants. There are towns in Europe where ſta⯑tues, expoſed night and day, within the reach of the common people, would run a greater riſk of being disfigured, and mutilated; here they are as ſafe as if they were ſhut up in the Great Duke's gallery.

The number of ſtatues, which ornament the ſtreets and ſquares of Florence, amount, in all, to above one hundred and fifty; many of them of exquiſite work⯑manſhip, and admired by thoſe of the beſt taſte. Such a number of ſtatues, without any drapery, continually expoſed to the public eye, with the far greater num⯑ber of pictures, as well as ſtatues, in the ſame taſte, to be ſeen in the palaces, have produced, in both ſexes, the moſt perfect inſenſibility to nudities.

Ladies, who have remained ſome time at Rome, or Florence, particularly thoſe who affect a taſte for virtù, acquire an intrepidity, and a cool minuteneſs, in ex⯑amining [103] and criticiſing naked figures, which is un⯑known to thoſe who have never paſſed the Alps. There is ſomething in the figure of the god of gardens, which is apt to alarm the modeſty of a novice; but there are female dilettantí, who think little of it.

Florence has been equally diſtinguiſhed, by a ſpirit for commerce, and the fine arts; two things which are not always united. Some of the Florentine mer⯑chants, formerly, were men of vaſt wealth, and lived in a moſt magnificent manner. One of them, about the middle of the fifteenth century, built that noble fabric, which, from the name of its founder, is called the Palazzo Pitti. The man was ruined by the pro⯑digious expence of the building; which was immedi⯑ately purchaſed by the Medici family; and has conti⯑nued ever ſince to be the reſidence of the ſovereigns. The gardens, belonging to this palace, are on the declivity of an eminence. On the ſummit there is a kind of fort, called Belvidere. From this, and from ſome of the higher walks, is ſeen a complete view of the city of Florence, and the beauteous vale of Arno, in the middle of which it ſtands. The proſpect is bounded, on every ſide, by an amphitheatre of fertile hills, adorned with country houſes, and gardens.

The furniture of this palace is rich and curious; particularly ſome tables of Florentine work, which are [104] much admired. The moſt precious ornaments, how⯑ever, are the paintings. The walls of, what is called, the imperial chamber, are painted in freſco, by various painters; the ſubjects are allegorical, and in honour of Lorenzo de Medicis; diſtinguiſhed by the name of the Magnificent. There is more fancy than taſte diſ⯑played in the paintings. The other principal rooms are diſtinguiſhed by the names of Heathen Deities; as Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, Venus; and by paintings in freſco, moſtly by Pietro di Cortona. In the laſt men⯑tioned, the ſubjects are different from what is naturally expected from the name of the room; being repreſen⯑tations of the triumphs of Virtue over Love, or ſome memorable inſtance of continence. As the Medicis family have been more diſtinguiſhed for the protection they afforded the arts, than for the virtues of conti⯑nence, and ſelf-denial, it is probable the ſubject, as well as the execution, of theſe pieces, was left entirely to the painter.

In no part of Italy are there ſo many villas, belong⯑ing to private perſons, as in the neighbourhood of this city. The country, all around, is divided into ſmall farms, with a neat farm, houſe on each.

In reſpect to curioſities, worthy the attention of a traveller, Florence, ſays Keyſler, exceeds every city in Italy; Rome, alone, excepted. It is generally [105] ſtiled, by the Italians, la bella, or, the beautiful; an epithet it probably owes to the cleanlineſs of the ſtreets, and goodneſs of the pavement; the palaces here being neither ſo many, nor ſo ſtately, as to put it on a level with Rome, Turin, or even Genoa. The ſtreets are for the moſt part narrow and winding; and the former is too much the fault in the Corſo, which is ſaid to be two Italian miles in length; ſo that, in ſeveral of the ſtreets, which are included in that quarter, there is not breadth enough for a car⯑riage to paſs.

There are, however, ſome beautiful palaces in Flo⯑rence; and, as Tuſcan pillars, and ruſtic work, owe their origin to this country, the architects always take care to give them a place in the great edifices, that are raiſed in Tuſcany. The Palazzo Pitti, and that we have juſt noticed, is built after this manner; which makes it look extremely ſolid, and majeſtic. It is not unlike the Luxemburg, at Paris, built by Mary of Medici; and for that reaſon, perhaps, the workmen fell into the Tuſcan humour. I found, ſays Addiſon, in the court of this palace, what I could not meet with any where in Rome. I mean an antique ſtatue of Hercules, lifting up Antaeus from the earth. It was found in Rome, and brought here under the reign of Leo X. There are abundance of pictures in this palace, by the hands of the greateſt maſters.

[106]But it is in the famous gallery of the old palace that, perhaps, the nobleſt collections are to be met with, in any part of the world. The gallery itſelf is made in the ſhape of an L, according to Laſſel; but, if it muſt needs be like a letter, remarks Addiſon, it reſembles the Greek 11 moſt. It is adorned with ad⯑mirable pieces of ſculpture; as well modern as anci⯑ent. One of the moſt inſtructing parts of it, in the eyes of many, is the ſeries of Roman emperors from Julius Coeſar to Gallienus; with a conſiderable num⯑ber of their empreſſes ranged oppoſite to them. This ſeries is almoſt complete; but, wherever the buſt of an emperor is wanting, the place is filled up, by that of ſome other diſtinguiſhed Roman. Such an honour is beſtowed, with great propriety, on Seneca, Cicero, or Agrippa, the ſon-in-law of Auguſtus. But, on per⯑ceiving a head of Antinous, the favourite of Adrian, it was remarked, ſays Moore, that this buſt would not have been admitted, into ſuch company, any where but in Florence. It ought, however, to be remem⯑bered, that the gallery is not an Egyptian court of ju⯑dicature; where princes are tried after death, for crimes committed during their life. If the vices of originals had excluded their portraits, what would have become of the ſeries of Roman emperors; and, particularly, of the great Julius Coeſar himſelf; of whoſe intrigues, and debaucheries, hiſtory has given us ſo flagrant a deſcription.

[107]Amidſt theſe noble ſpecimens of ancient art, ſome of the works of Michael Angelo are not thought un⯑deſerving a place. His Bacchus and Faunus, of which the well-known ſtory is told, have been, by ſome, preferred to the two antique figures repreſenting the ſame.

This ſtory, to ſuch of our readers as are unac⯑quainted with it, may, perhaps, not be unacceptable: it is related as follows. When Michael Angelo's re⯑putation had riſen to a great height, his adverſaries, envious of his fame, had no other way to leſſen it, than by comparing his works to the antique; and en⯑deavouring to ſhew how far he fell ſhort of the anci⯑ents. He took the reſolution of putting the ſkill of his judges to the teſt, and made this Bacchus. When the work was perfected, he broke off the right hand, which holds a cup, and laid it by in his cloſet; the reſt of the figure he buried, and let it lie ſome time in the ground. At a proper opportunity the workmen were ordered to dig, as for other purpoſes, in another part of the ground; and to carry on their work ſo, that they muſt, of courſe, come to the place where the ſtatue was hid. They did ſo, and found it; and, by direction, mentioned it in ſuch a manner, that it might come to the ears of his adverſaries, who were not long in going to view the new diſcovery; and, when they had cleanſed the earth from it, found a fine group [108] of a Bacchus and Faunus, all entire, except one hand, which was wanting to the Bacchus. They inſtantly judged it to be a fine antique; the diſcovery was ſoon noiſed about, and, among the reſt who flocked to ſee it, came Michael Angelo himſelf. He was not ſo loud in its praiſes as the reſt were. "Well," ſays one of them, "you can make as good a one, no doubt." He laughed with them a little time; and at laſt aſked them, "What will you ſay if I made this?" It may eaſily be imagined how the queſtion was re⯑ceived. He then only deſired their patience whilſt he ſtepped home, which he did, and brought back with him the hand he had broken off; which, upon application, was found to tally exactly with the arm.

The beautiful head of Alexander is alſo univerſally admired, by all the virtuoſi; though they differ in opi⯑nion, in regard to the circumſtances, in which the ſculptor has intended to repreſent that hero. Some imagine he is dying; Mr. Addiſon thinks he ſighs for new worlds to conquer; others, that he faints with pain and loſs of blood, from the wounds he received at Oxydrace. Some think the features expreſs, not bodily pain, or languor; but ſorrow, and remorſe, for having murdered his faithful friend Clitus.

The famous buſt of Alexander appeared to me, ſays Lady Millar, to expreſs more of the ſentiment of in⯑dignation, [109] and reproach, in the countenance, than of a ſenſation proceeding from bodily pain, though it is here ſtyled Alexander dying; the features are ex⯑tremely handſome, and wonderfully intereſting; and the whole character noble.

The unfiniſhed buſt of Marcus Brutus, by Michael Angelo, admirably expreſſes the determined firmneſs of character which belonged, ſays Moore, to that vir⯑tuous Roman.

Among the buſts of the emperors and empreſſes, there are ſome which are very ſcarce, and almoſt ſin⯑gular, in their kind; and I have generally obſerved, at Rome, remarks Addiſon, which is a great magazine of theſe antiquities; that the ſame heads, which are rare in medals, are alſo rare in marble; and, indeed, we may commonly aſſign the ſame reaſon for both; which was, the ſhortneſs of the emperors' reigns, that did not give the workmen time to make many of their figures; and, as the ſhortneſs of their reigns was ge⯑nerally occaſioned by the advancement of a rival, it is no wonder that no one worked on the figure of a deceaſed emperor, when his rival was on the throne. Among other antique figures, there is a fine one of Morpheus, in touchſtone. This god is repreſented, by the ancient ſtatuaries, under the figure of a boy aſleep, with a bundle of poppy in his hand. Tis probable, they [110] choſe to repreſent the god of ſleep, under the figure of a boy, contrary to all modern deſigners; becauſe, it is that age which has its repoſe the leaſt broken by cares and anxieties. Statius, in his celebrated invocation to ſleep, addreſſed himſelf to him under the ſame figure.

I would moſt willingly pay the tribute of my praiſe, ſays Moore, to that charming figure, known by the name of the Venus de Medicis. Yet, in the midſt of all my admiration, I confeſs I do not think her equal to her brother Apollo in the Vatican. In that ſublime figure, to the moſt perfect features and proportion, is joined an air, which ſeems more than human. The Medicean Venus is, unqueſtionably, a perfect model of female beauty; but, while Apollo appears more than a man, the Venus ſeems preciſely a beautiful woman.

This ſtatue, ſays Addiſon, ſeems much leſs than the life, as being perfectly naked, and in company with others of a larger make; Lady Millar meaſured it, and found it not more than four feet ten inches in height. The ſoftneſs of the fleſh, the delicacy of the ſhape, air, and poſture, and the correctneſs of deſign, in this ſtatue, are inexpreſſible.

[111]This chef d'oeuvre, or ſtandard for female beauty, was found in the villa Adriana, amongſt more than thirty-eight Greek ſtatues of admirable workmanſhip: the in⯑ſcription on the pedeſtal, importing her to have been formed by Cleomenes, an Athenian, ſon of Apollodorus, has been evidently inſerted at the time her arms were ſupplied. Whether ſhe was that Venus, ſculptured by Praxiteles, and which the inhabitants of Gnidos refuſed to Nicodemes, king of Bithynia, although he offered to pay all their debts in exchange for this marble lady; or, whether ſhe was the workmanſhip of Phidias; and the ſame, that in the time of Pliny, was placed at Rome under the portico of Octavia; or, whether ſhe was the Venus of Alcamenes, and placed near Athens, ſtill remains matter for controverſy to anxious anti⯑quarians, who have never yet been able to agree on the ſubject.

In the ſame room, ſays Moore, are many other ex⯑cellent ſtatues, beſides a collection of admirable pic⯑tures, by the beſt maſters.

Beſides the gallery and tribuna, the hundredth part of whoſe treaſures it is impoſſible to particularife; there are other rooms, whoſe contents are indicated by the name they bear; as the cabinet of arts, of aſtronomy, of natural hiſtory, of medals, of porcelain, of antiquities, and the ſaloon of the hermaphrodite, ſo called from a [112] ſtatue, which divides the admiration of the amateurs with that in the Borgheſe villa at Rome. The excel⯑lence of the execution, is diſgraced by the vileneſs of the ſubject. We are ſurprized how the Greeks and Romans could take pleaſure in ſuch unnatural figures; in this particular, their taſte ſeems to have been as depraved, as, in general, it was elegant and refined.

The large room, called the gallery of portraits, is not the leaſt curious in this vaſt muſeum. It contains the portraits, all executed by themſelves, of the moſt eminent painters who have flouriſhed in Europe, during the three laſt centuries. They amount to above two hundred; thoſe of Rubens, Vandyke, Rembrandt, and Guido, were formerly the moſt eſteemed; two have been ſince added, which vie with the fineſt in this collection—thoſe of Mengs and Sir Joſhua Rey⯑nolds. The portrait of Raphael ſeems to have been done when he was young; it is not equal to any of the above.

Lady Millar mentions having ſeen in one of the rooms, a variety of ſummer and winter rings, worn by the ancient Romans, ſome of which were entire with the ſtones ſtill in their ſetting. The greater part were intaglios; but among them were ſome cameos. There were ſeveral which opened, and the cavity under the gem was ſufficiently large to receive as much matter [113] as might be contained in the bowl of a tea-ſpoon; probably, theſe cavities were deſigned to hold poiſon. Some of the hoops of theſe rings were ſo large, adds Lady Millar, to admit with eaſe four of my fingers.

The abbé, who was the late guardian of theſe pre⯑cious depots, and of the gallery, ſtole and diſpoſed of antique idols, gems, &c. and twenty-four pounds weight of pure gold, the ornaments of columns, &c. of near the value of five thouſand pounds, to Jew brokers. He was taken, tried, and condemned to be hanged and embowelled; yet, after eight months im⯑priſonment, humanely pardoned, but baniſhed the Grand Duke's territories; and is, at this time, ſaid to ſerve as a private ſoldier in the Neapolitan troops.

The remarkable diamond, that uſed to be ſhewn here, has been removed from the Tribuna, to the Duke's private cabinet; but an exact model, made of yellowiſh glaſs, now ſupplies the place of it. The original, according to Tavernier, weighs one hundred and forty carrats, and was the largeſt diamond in Europe, till Mr. Pitt brought from the Eaſt-Indies, a diamond which exceeded it, which was ſold to the re⯑gent of France, and was the moſt coſtly and ſuperb jewel belonging to that crown. The ſparks, which fell from it in cutting, produced him ſix thouſand pounds; and, when cut, beſides its extraordinary weight of one [114] hundred and forty-four carrats, was of a finer water than any diamond that could be produced; whereas, the Florentine diamond is of a yellowiſh water. The Great Duke, is ſaid to have bought his of a Jeſuit for 75,000 crowns; but, the father had an exorbitant profit, having given only a ſingle ſixpence for it, on the Piazza di Navona, when it was offered to ſale as a bit of cryſtal. Mr. Pitt might have diſpoſed of his diamond to much greater advantage, had he not out⯑ſtood his market with the King of Poland, who offered him 800,000 dollars; and the ſtates of Saxony were to give ſecurity for the payment of that ſum, by ſe⯑veral payments, within a few years. Mr. Pitt inſiſted upon a million, or 225,000l. ſterling; and the treaty broke off to his great mortification; for, when the King of Poland heard that the King of France had purchaſed the diamond, he is ſaid to have been diſſa⯑tisfied with himſelf, that he had not come into Mr. Pitt's terms. Whilſt Mr. Pitt had this diamond about him, he could hardly be ſaid to be in ſafety; and, not being able to find a proper purchaſer, he, at length, ſold it to the Regent of France, who was deſirous of procuring it for the King; and, this famous diamond, to this day, goes by the appellation of le Regent. Mr. Pitt, however, was obliged to take, by way of ex⯑change, ſeveral other jewels, at the Paris valuation; and, the bills which he received as ready money, being immediately after involved in the fate of the Miſſiſſippi [115] bonds; it is ſuppoſed that, inſtead of the many mil⯑lions of French livres, which he thought himſelf ſure of, the moſt he got for his famous diamond, was about 300,000 dollars, or about ſixty-ſeven thouſand pounds ſterling.

In a particular cloſet in the Tribuna, is ſeen a moſt rich and admirable ſtudiolo, or cabinet, with fourteen beautiful pillars; the ſhafts of which are of lapis la⯑zuli; but, the pedeſtals and capital, of ſolid gold, en⯑riched with pearl and turquoiſe. This magnificent ca⯑binet, ſerves for keeping gems and intaglios; the whole number of which, in their ſeveral aſſortments, amount to three thouſand. The cabinet and its con⯑tents, are valued at ſixty thouſand crowns; or about one hundred and twenty-ſeven thouſand pounds ſter⯑ling.

The aſſortment of gold coins conſiſts of ſixteen hun⯑dred medals, and ſixteen medaillons. The largeſt of the latter weighs a hundred and ſixteen louis-d'ors, and repreſents the emperor John Paloeologus VII. who aſſiſted at the council of Florence. The whole col⯑lection is compoſed of fourteen thouſand antique medals, and eight thouſand modern.

The churches in Florence amount to above one hundred and fifty; and the convents to eighty-ſeven; [116] beſides twenty-two hoſpitals. Among ſuch a multi⯑tude of religious edifices, and in a country like this, many of them muſt neceſſarily contain things worth notice.

The cathedral of Florence is a great Gothic build⯑ing, incruſted on the outſide with marble; remarkable for nothing but its cupola, which is ſaid to have been copied by the architect of St. Peter's at Rome; and for its ſize, which is much greater than that of any other church in Chriſtendom. The baptiſtery, which ſtands by it, was an ancient temple, ſaid to be dedi⯑cated to Mars. There are ſome good ſtatues of white marble, within; and one or two of bronze, on the out⯑ſide of the doors; but, it is chiefly celebrated for the emboſſed work of its braſs gates, which M. Angelo uſed to ſay, deſerved to be made the gates of Paradiſe. It is in this place, that all the children born in the city are baptiſed.

Near the cathedral, is one of the moſt beautiful towers, or ſteeples, in the world. It is ſquare, and the outſide is incruſted with black, red, and white marble. This ſtructure is much admired for its ſymmetry and ſtrength; the ornaments are well imagined, and the parts well diſpoſed. Its height is two hundred and ſeventy-ſix Engliſh feet. There are four hundred [117] and eight ſteps in the aſcent, and a noble view of the city from the top of the edifice.

The chapel of St. Lorenzo, ſays Moore, is, perhaps, the fineſt, and moſt expenſive habitation, that ever was raiſed for the dead; it is encruſted with precious ſtones, and adorned by the workmanſhip of the beſt modern ſculptors. Some complain, that, after all, it has a gloomy appearance. There ſeems to be no impropriety in that, conſidering what the building was intended for. Addiſon has remarked, that this chapel advanced ſo very ſlowly, that it was not im⯑poſſible but all the family of the Medicis might be extinct, before their burial-place was finiſhed. This has actually happened; the Medicis family is extinct, and the chapel remains unfiniſhed.

The Mercato nuovo, is properly the exchange of Florence; where, about noon, the principal mer⯑chants meet to do buſineſs, many of whom are of great families; for here, as in Genoa, commerce is not held to be in the leaſt derogatory to nobility. It is, indeed, the means of keeping up affluence and credit in families; whereas, in other parts, and eſpecially in Germany, many families are ruined, or, for a whole century or more, remain in obſcu⯑rity. It is by commerce, that even the Ducal fa⯑mily has riſen to that greatneſs, in which they have [118] maintained themſelves above two hundred years. Coſmo de Medicis, who died in the year 1465, had warehouſes in the principal trading cities throughout the world; and met with ſuch peculiar good fortune, that, in the courſe of fifty-four years, he experienced no conſiderable loſſes, by the failure of other merchants.

The city is not fortified; but, on one ſide of the river Arno, there is a good citadel, with five baſtions and two forts; but both in a very ruinous condition. It is ſaid to be ſix miles in circumference. The city appears in its greateſt brilliancy at the horſe-races, which are at the end of June.

A particular part of the city, noted for houſes of ill fame, was aſſigned by Coſmo I. to the Jews for their particular quarter; and, an inſcription at the entrance of the ſtreet, obſerves, that it was thought more adviſe⯑able to permit the Jews to remain in the neighbour⯑hood of Chriſtians; that, by their good example, they might be brought to the eaſy yoke of Chriſt, than to⯑tally to expel them. The reaſon here aſſigned is ſo juſt and commendable, that it deſerves to be adopted in other parts, with regard to all ſectaries.

The environs of Florence are delightful; the plain, in which the city ſtands, being ſurrounded by charm⯑ing hills, well cultivated and adorned. But, though [119] Florence be thus in a kind of baſin, the warmth of the ſouth, and ſouth-eaſt winds is ſo well tempered, by cooler ones, that people may ſleep abroad without danger. The autumn here is generally wet; and this city is a bad reſidence, in winter, on account of the ſouth-eaſt, or ſirocco, and north winds, which blow often on the ſame day; and ſubject the inhabitants to inflammations in the breaſt and lungs. Florence therefore is beſt in ſummer, when the atmoſphere about it is eſteemed very ſalubrious.

It is ſaid, remarks Keyſler, that few perſons in Flo⯑rence are known to have the ſenſe of ſeeing, in per⯑fection. This ſome naturaliſts impute to the foggy moiſt air of the city; but, at this rate, moſt of the in⯑habitants of Mantua, Venice, Leyden, Amſterdam, &c. would have but little uſe of their eyes. It is obſerv⯑able that places, near the ſea-coaſt only, are ſubject to ſuch damp exhalations; whereas Florence ſtands high, and on a dry ſoil; and it is to the purity and ſalubrity of the air, that the Florentines themſelves attri⯑bute the vivacity, and penetration by which they boaſt that their countrymen have made ſuch improvements, in all the polite arts and ſciences.

Without the city are two very fine palaces, called Poggio, or Villa Imperiale; and Pratolino; the former is but an Italian mile from the city, in a direct line [120] from the Porta Romana, with a ſtately avenue, conſiſt⯑ing of a double row of cypreſs and larch trees, lead⯑ing to it; with beautiful vineyards, convents, and villas, on each ſide.

Pratolino, the other ducal palace, is ſix Italian miles diſtant from Florence. The gardens are beautifully fine, with a variety of grand water-works; but the greateſt curioſity is a coloſſal ſtatue, fronting the pa⯑lace, which is intended to ſignify the Appennine mountain, and is the work of John de Bologna, who has made the ſtatue appear like a mountain itſelf. The figure ſits in an inclining poſture, as looking into a baſon or pond, juſt below it; and, from its prodi⯑gious long beard, arms, and other parts, hang, what look like, icicles; the only repreſentation that ſtone could give of water falling from it. The ſtatue is compoſed of ſeveral great ſtones, which look very coarſe, near the eye, but have a noble effect at a diſ⯑tance. The iris of each eye looks like a large glaſs bottle, and one of the feet is nine Engliſh feet long; to which all the other parts of the figure are equally proportionable.

To conclude, the city of Florence is ſo beautiful, that the Emperor Charles V. ſaid, it was fit to be ſeen and ſhewn only on holidays.

CHAP. VII. Of the Cities of Leghorn, Piſa, and Sienna.

LEGHORN is a neat, well-built city, ſituated on a plain, almoſt level with the ſea; forty miles Weſt of Florence; and one hundred and fifty North-weſt of Rome.

The great wealth of Tuſcany, and the true ſource of her power, has been this famous port of Leghorn; or Livorn, as the Italians call it; which was obtained from the Genoeſe, in exchange for Sarizana, an epiſco⯑pal city, near Lerici, by Coſmo I. Duke of Tuſcany.

The country about it was formerly a moraſs, or bog, whoſe noxious ſtreams infected the air; but by the ſkill of Sir Robert Dudley, afterwards created Duke of Northumberland, the ſoil was rendered habitable; the air more healthy, and the port improved, ſo as to become the beſt in Italy. By his advice, alſo, it was made a free-port; that is, the duties inward are very [122] eaſy, and there are no duties on exportation; which have rendered it, for more than a century, the greateſt magazine of the Levant trade; and has drawn thither merchants from all parts, particularly Jews and Ar⯑menians; of whom many reſide there, and have great privileges allowed them.

The number of Jews, at Leghorn, is computed at eighteen thouſand, and this city is called their para⯑diſe; for, except living by themſelves, in one particu⯑lar part of it, be reckoned a hardſhip, they enjoy all manner of freedom, without any ignominious mark of diſtinction. Their trade, which is already very great, is continually increaſing; to the no ſmall detriment of the chriſtian merchants. There is, indeed, an in⯑quiſition at Leghorn, but without exerciſing any power over the Jews; for it is limitted to the ſpiritual con⯑concerns of thoſe of its own communion. The ſyna⯑gogue is large, and well contrived; with abundance of braſs chandeliers in it. For the work which muſt neceſſarily be done, in their houſes, on the ſabbath days, the Jews buy young Mooriſh girls; one of which, according to her age, and other circumſtances, may coſt forty, or fifty crowns.

Leghorn is ſaid to contain forty thouſand inhabi⯑tants, including the Jews; but this calculation ſeems exaggerated, for ſo ſmall a city. Moſt of the ſtreets [123] are broad and ſtrait. The grand place larger, ſays Mrs. Piozzi, than Lincoln's-inn Fields, makes a fine appearance; from which two viſtas extend through both the city gates. The north part of this city is extremely well-built; and one quarter of it, on ac⯑count of its many canals, for cleanlineſs and conve⯑nience of trade, is called Venice.

Pollnitz obſerves, that this city is well-built; the ſtreets broad, ſtrait, and lightſome, and that ſeveral have canals in them, after the manner of Dutch cities; and that the ports are magnificent. They have good hoſpitals for the poor and ſick, but none for thoſe who are lame, or paſt labour; ſo that they have a multitude of beggars. The public proſtitutes have particular quarters aſſigned them, and are under very ſtrict regulations. It is ſaid they even maintain one of the gallies, out of the taxes impoſed on their pro⯑feſſion. The Britiſh factors, who conſiſt of about forty families, conſtantly maintain a chaplain at Leg⯑horn; and as the harbour is never without Engliſh, Dutch, or Daniſh veſſels, the Proteſtants have always an opportunity of baptizing their children, receiving the ſacrament, and performing the other rites of their church.

On the quay, near the gallies, is a famous marble of the Grand Duke Ferdinand I. with four Turkiſh [124] ſlaves, in bronze, chained to the pedeſtal. It is ſaid theſe ſlaves were a father and his three ſons; who at⯑tempted to run away with one of the Duke's gallies, but were overtaken and put to death.

The ramparts afford a very agreeable proſpect of the ſea, and of many country ſeats on the land-ſide. The city is alſo well fortified, having two forts to⯑wards the ſea, beſides a citadel. The number of guns, in its ſeveral fortifications, are, at preſent, about three hundred, moſt of them braſs; and the garriſon conſiſts of ſix hundred men.

Leghorn has, accidentally, done, what the greateſt reach of politics would have found difficult to have brought about; for it has almoſt depopulated Piſa, if [126] we compare it to what it was formerly; and it every day leſſens the number of inhabitants, even of Florence. It is true ſtrangers pay little, or no taxes directly at Leghorn; but, out of every thing they buy, there goes a large gabel to goverment. Addiſon ſays, when he was there, that the very ice-merchant paid above one thouſand pounds a year for his privilege, and the tobacco merchant ten thouſand pounds.

This city is, in reality, the chief port on the Medi⯑terranean; and many of the inhabitants ſpeak Engliſh tolerably well. About noon the merchants meet, in a ſtreet adjoining to the ſquare, to negociate their re⯑ſpective concerns; at which time many people, of all nations, are to be ſeen there, as on the Royal Ex⯑change at London.

All degrees of people live here, not only well, but ſplendidly; well, notwithſtanding the exactions of the Grand Duke; for none can buy lands, or houſes here, but he muſt pay eight per cent of their value to the Duke; none can hire, or build a houſe, without paying the tenth penny; none can marry, or even commence a ſuit in law, without giving a fee to the Duke; and none can bring ſo much as an egg, or ſallad to market, but the Grand Duke has ſome ſhare in it.

[127]Barks go daily from Leghorn to Piſa, by a canal ſixteen miles long. This canal, beſides the great con⯑venience it is of to trade, ſerves as a drain to ſeveral moraſſes; in winter, indeed, it is ſometimes frozen. The paſſage is only ſix ſous; but what makes it diſ⯑agreeable is that the company is not always of the beſt ſort. The veſſel is drawn along by men, and takes up ſix hours in the paſſage. The way, by land, is along a continued plain, over ſeveral ſtone bridges, acroſs the canal; which both fertilizes the ſoil, and communicates a ſalubrity to the air, by draining the moraſſes; however, Leghorn is, by no means, to be ranked amongſt the moſt healthy cities.

Piſa, divided, like Florence, by the Arno, over which it has three bridges, is ſituated in a fine open country. A magnificent broad quay, on each ſide the river, the cathedral, baptiſtery, leaning tower, con⯑vents, churches, &c. give it an air of grandeur, in defiance of poverty, and deſolation.

Though it is a large city, it has only fifteen thou⯑ſand inhabitants; and no commerce or manufactories. It is intereſting, however, to a ſtranger, on account of the many learned men, and the good ſociety he will there find. The markets are well ſupplied with pro⯑viſions and fruit, at a reaſonable rate; and houſe rent is extremely cheap. It is to be preferred, for a win⯑ter [228] reſidence, to moſt cities in Italy, for the mildneſs of its air; but almoſt deſerted in ſummer, owing to the conſtant ſtagnation of vapours.

There are ſome remarkable buildings in Piſa; as the Duomo; the architect of which was Buſchetto, a Greek; who began it, according to ſome accounts, in 1016; according to others, in 1063. It has many fine columns of porphyry, granite, jaſper, verd an⯑tique. &c. taken from ancient buildings. The bronze gates are extremely curious.

The companile, or leaning tower, was finiſhed in 1174. It is about one hundred and fifty feet high; and near fifteen feet out of the perpendicular.

The baptiſtery is ſaid to have been built 600 years. It is a large circular building, with a high cupola; all of white marble. Its echo is aſtoniſhing; and, in du⯑ration, ſurpaſſes that of the Simonetti ſeat, near Milan; but the ſound of the repercuſſions is not ſo clear.

The univerſity has an obſervatory, furniſhed with good Engliſh inſtruments; a botanic garden, once very famous, but now much neglected; and a ſmall muſaeum, which is modern; and conſiſts of birds, fiſhes, ſhells, corals, and foſſils.

[129]The hot-baths are four miles out of the town; they are handſome, commodious, and the price of lodgings, and living, is regulated, at a moderate rate, by go⯑vernment.

This city was formerly a celebrated republic; whoſe formidable fleets often ſignalized themſelves, againſt the Saracens, in the Levant, on the coaſt of Africa, and againſt the Genoeſe; but, falling under the power of the Florentines, after the declenſion of their commerce, by the opening of Leghorn harbour, ſcarce the ſhadow of its former grandeur now remains. The number of inhabitants, in the eleventh century, were one hundred and fifty thouſand. The chief cauſe, of the declenſion of this city, was the loſs of the immunities it enjoyed when a republic. Some buſi⯑neſs, ſays Buſching, is ſtill carried on in it, on account of its being the place where the gallies are built, and the reſidence of the knights of the order of St. Stephen; who have a palace, and church, of their own, oppoſite a very fine ſquare, wherein ſtands a magni⯑ficent marble ſtatue of Coſmo I. The exchange is a ſtately building, but little buſineſs is tranſacted in it.

Piſa is remarkable for the impriſonment and death of Count Ugolino.

[130]In the civil wars, between the Gwelfs and Gibbe⯑lins, that deſolated all Italy, in the fourteenth century, there was ſcarce an eccleſiaſtic that did not take a de⯑cided part. The Gwelfs were for the Pope; the Gib⯑belins for the Emperor of Germany. Count Ugolino, who was a violent partizan, was, through the arti⯑fices of the archbiſhop of Piſa, thrown into priſon, with his two ſons, and there ſtarved to death; the archbiſhop having thrown the keys into the river, and fled from the city, The puniſhment of the high prieſt is recorded by Dante, in his Canto of Hell. See the Plate.

Sienna, a pretty large city, lies upon three hills, which render the ſtreets very uneven; but this is com⯑penſated by the beauty of the proſpects, and the great ſalubrity of the air. It is about five miles in circuit▪ the population amounts to about ſixteen, or ſeventeen thouſand inhabitants. It is thought that at Sienna, the Italian language is ſpoken in its greateſt purity, and perfection; on which account many foreigners reſide in it, till they have learnt the language.

Sienna, ſays Martyn, in the midſt of hills, of the moſt pleaſing ſhapes, excellently cultivated, is, per⯑haps, the moſt deſirable place in Italy, for a ſtranger to paſs ſome time in; the climate being moderate, living reaſonable, ſociety good, and the language ſpoken in the greateſt purity. It is alſo within a mo⯑derate [132] diſtance, both of Rome and Florence; the houſes are built with brick, and the ſtreets are paved with it.

The Piccolimini, and Zondadari palaces are by much the beſt, all the others being but meanly built; al⯑though the many towers erected on private houſes, on account of the feuds between the Gwelfs and Gib⯑belins, give the town a grand appearance at a diſtance.

Sienna is particularly agreeable in the hot months, on account of its lofty ſituation, and fine air. It has produced many famous painters, architects, and poets; the nobility are as diſtinguiſhed as any in Italy, and have a caſſino, or aſſembly of both ſexes. The wo⯑men, ſays Keyſler, are beautiful; and have more free⯑dom than in many other parts of Italy. The magiſ⯑tracy conſiſts of a governor, and ſenate of nine per⯑ſons called Excelſi, whoſe preſident is ſtiled Capitaneo de populo. They flatter themſelves with retaining a kind of liberty in their election; but this is only an external ſhow; for the ſenate can take no meaſure, of any conſequence, without permiſſion of the Grand Duke.

Of its curioſities, there is nothing in this city ſo extraordinary, ſays Addiſon, as the cathedral; which a man may view with pleaſure, after he has ſeen St. Pe⯑ter's [133] at Rome; though it is quite of another make, and can only be looked upon as one of the maſter⯑pieces of Gothic architecture. The materials are rich, the workmanſhip moſt elaborate, and the orna⯑ments exquiſitely nice, in the Gothic way. The very ſpouts are loaded with ornaments; the windows are formed like ſo many ſcenes of perſpective, with a mul⯑titude of little pillars, retiring one behind another; the great columns are finely engraven with fruits and foliage, from the very top to the bottom; and the whole body of the church is chequered with different lays of white and black marble; the pavement curi⯑ouſly cut out in deſigns and ſcripture-ſtories; and the front covered with ſuch a variety of figures, and over-run with ſo many little mazes and labyrinths of ſculpture, that nothing in the world can make a pret⯑tier ſhew, to thoſe who prefer falſe beauties, and af⯑fected ornaments, to a noble and majeſtic ſimplicity. In this church are the buſts of one hundred and ſe⯑venty popes, in plaiſter of Paris. Six who were na⯑tives of this city; and the twelve apoſtles are honoured with marble ſtatues.

Near the cathedral is the archbiſhop's palace; and oppoſite to it a large, and well-endowed hoſpital, founded by a ſhoemaker. There is a figure of him, ſuperſcribed ſutor ultra crepidam, "The ſhoemaker beyond his laſt." The univerſity, which was founded [134] by Charles V. is in a declining condition. The Ger⯑man ſtudents enjoy particular privileges, granted to them by the ſame emperor.

The Franciſcan church here abounds in fine paint⯑ing. In the convent-garden is an ever-green oak, ſaid to have ſprung from St. Francis's ſtaff, which was here ſtuck in the ground. Spon, in his travels through Greece, mentions a large wild cherry-tree near the old caſtle at Smyrna, which is believed, by ſuch of the inhabitants as are of the Greek church, to have been inſtantaneouſly produced from the ſtaff of S. Polycarp. In like manner Hercules' club, which was an olive-tree, is ſaid, by the ancients, to have taken root, and be⯑come a flouriſhing tree.

The territory of Sienna, and that part of Tuſcany, between Sienna and Florence, preſent the traveller, coming from Rome, with a new heaven, and a new earth. The towns, the villages, and the farms, beſides their number, are better peopled than in the eccleſi⯑aſtical ſtate; the lands are better cultivated, the men more robuſt, and, in their whole carriage, ſhew that chearfulneſs, alacrity and vigour, which accompany caſe and plenty, and are not damped and extinguiſhed by diſtreſs. In the very peaſants are to be ſeen thoſe ſignificant phyſiognomies, which completely an⯑ſwer the pictures of Dante, Boccace, Machiavel, &c. [135] To this improvement, and extent of cultivation, is certainly to be attributed the ſerenity of the ſky, which is not clogged here with the fuliginous vapours, exhaled from the waſtes of the eccleſiaſtical ſtate.

CHAP. VIII. Perſon, Character, Dreſs, Cuſtoms and Manners of the People.

THAT ſenſibility of heart, which has long made the Tuſcans enamoured with poetry, ſays Ba⯑retti, has totally worn out the ferocity, for which they were ſo remarkable, in the brutal times of the Guelfs and Gibbelines; and has brought them to be, perhaps, the moſt gentle and amiable nation now extant. Thoſe times may well be called brutal, when we recollect what is recorded in the hiſtory of Piſa, of Count Ugo⯑lino and his two ſons. This character of gentleneſs is, indeed, eaſily to be perceived by any traveller, as ſoon as he reaches the higheſt tops of the Appennines, where all ſtrangers are treated with the ſofteſt urbanity [136] by thoſe mountaineers; who, to the ſimplicity natu⯑ral to all inhabitants of extenſive ridges of hills, join the moſt obliging expreſſions, and the moſt reſpectful manners. And a traveller muſt be very peeviſh, and ill-humoured, who is not ſatisfied with the ruſtic be⯑nevolence of the Tuſcans, as he goes deſcending to⯑wards Florence; where even the cuſtom-houſe officers treat him with the greateſt civility; aſking the uſual queſtions with their hats off, viſiting his baggage with⯑out throwing every thing topſy-turvy, and modeſtly thanking him for any ſmall coin, ſlipped into their hands, as a reward for their diſcretion.

The people here, ſays Howell, ſeem, in general, to be more courteous, and of a higher comportment, than elſewhere. They are allowed to be inimitable in making repartees, or telling ſtories with a good grace.

The peaſants are tall and well-made; the women re⯑markably handſome and very fair; they are extremely clean and well-dreſſed; and, on Sundays and holi⯑days, their hair is nicely and becomingly adjuſted, and ornamented with a very ſmall hat, elegantly trim⯑med, and worn juſt above the left ear; and, on the other ſide, a mat of flowers is often interwoven, with ſtrings of pearl; they wear ear-rings of five, or ſeven drops of pearl ſet in gold, and necklaces compoſed of [137] ſeveral rows of the ſame. When at work, or when they bring their goods to market, their hair is con⯑fined by a ſilk net of crimſon, ſcarlet, or blue ſilk; and tied by two ſtrings, ornamented with taſſels, which are frequently of gold or ſilver. They do not wear gowns, but a kind of jacket, without ſleeves. They have no other covering for the upper part of the arm, but their ſhift ſleeves; which are tied with ribband. Their petticoats are generally of a ſcarlet colour, and above one ear they fix their little ſtraw hat; the whole of which dreſs gives them a more gay, ſmart, coquetiſh air, ſays Moore, than any country girls I ever ſaw.

The Italians, in general, are the greateſt loungers in the world; and, while walking in the fields, or ſtretched in the ſhade, ſeem to enjoy the ſerenity, and genial warmth of their climate, with a degree of lux⯑urious indulgence, peculiar to themſelves. Without ever running into the daring exceſſes of the Engliſh, or diſplaying the friſky vivacity of the French, or the invincible phlegm of the Germans; they diſcover a ſpecies of ſedate ſenſibility to every ſource of enjoy⯑ment; from which, perhaps, they derive a greater de⯑gree of happineſs, than any of the other. The fre⯑quent proceſſions, and religious ceremonies, beſides amuſing and comforting them, ſerve to fill up their time, and prevent that ennui, and thoſe immoral prac⯑tices, which are apt to accompany poverty and idle⯑neſs. [138] It is neceſſary, for the quiet and happineſs of every community, that the populace be employed. Some politicians imagine that their whole time ſhould be ſpent in gainful induſtry. Others think, that though the riches of the ſtate will not be augmented; yet the general happineſs, which is a more important object, will be promoted; by blending the occupation of in⯑duſtry, with a conſiderable proportion of ſuch ſuper⯑ſtitious ceremonies, as awaken the future hopes, with⯑out lulling the preſent benevolence of the multitude.

In all the great cities of Italy, ſays Sharpe, ſeveral ſhops are ſhut up, from twelve, to half after one; or longer, ſo ſacred is the ceremony of dining. Even ſervants inſiſt on this privilege, to a degree truly ri⯑diculous. An Engliſh gentleman, not apprized of this cuſtom upon his firſt arrival in Italy, poſſibly calls for his ſervant when the man is juſt ſet down to dine; but, if he calls twenty times, he receives no other an⯑ſwer than that he is at dinner; (a Tavola ſignore) "At table, Sir;" which every Italian ſervant ſuppoſes to be a ſufficient reaſon that his maſter ſhould wait, though the buſineſs were ever ſo preſſing.

Society, ſays Moore, ſeems to be on an eaſy and agreeable footing in Florence. Beſides the conver⯑ſazioni, which they have here, as in other towns of Italy, a number of the nobility meet every day, at a [139] houſe called the Caſino. This ſociety is pretty much on the ſame footing with the clubs in London. The members are elected by ballot, meet at no particular hour, but go when it is convenient. They play at billiards, cards, and other games, or continue converſ⯑ing the whole evening, as they think proper. They are ſerved with tea, coffee, lemonade, ices, or what other refreſhments they chuſe; and each perſon pays for what he calls for. There is one material differ⯑ence between this and the Engliſh clubs, viz. that wo⯑men, as well as men, are admitted members.

The company, of both ſexes, behave with more frankneſs and familiarity to ſtrangers, as well as to each other, than is cuſtomary at public aſſemblies, in other parts of Italy.

The opera of Florence is a place where the people of quality pay, and receive viſits, and converſe as freely as at the Caſino. This occaſions a continual paſſing and re-paſſing to, and from, the boxes, except in thoſe where there is a party of cards formed; it is then looked upon as a piece of ill-manners to diſturb the players. I was never more ſurprized, ſays the above writer, than when it was propoſed to me to make one of a whiſt party, in a box which ſeemed to have been made for the purpoſe; with a little table in the middle. I hinted that it would be full as conve⯑nient [140] to have the party ſomewhere elſe; but I was told good muſic added greatly to the pleaſure of a whiſt party; that it increaſed the joy of good fortune, and ſoothed the affliction of bad. As I thought the peo⯑ple of this country better acquainted with the power of muſic than myſelf, I conteſted the point no longer; but generally played two or three rubbers at whiſt, in the ſtage-box, every opera night.

Hence it may be perceived that in this city, as in ſome other towns in Italy, little attention is paid to the muſic, by the company in the boxes; except at ſome new opera, or during ſome favourite air. But the dancers command a general attention; as ſoon as they begin, converſation ceaſes; even the card-players lay down their cards, and fix their eyes on the ballet. Yet the excellence of Italian dancing conſiſts in feats of ſtrength, and a kind of jerking agility, more than in graceful movement. There is a continual conteſt among the performers who ſhall ſpring higheſt. None of the ſprightly alluring gaiety, of the French comic-dancers, is to be ſeen here; nor of the graceful atti⯑tudes, and ſmooth flowing motions, of the performers in the ſerious opera at Paris,

On the evenings on which there is no opera, it is uſual, for genteel company, to drive to a public walk, immediately without the city, where they remain till [141] it begins to grow duſkiſh; ſome riding in coaches, and others walking. It is not cuſtomary to ſee mar⯑ried people together in their excurſions; but the huſ⯑band in a coach with another lady, and the wife with another gentleman. When ladies walk, their foot⯑men go before; and, in their coaches, they are very polite, and often bow firſt, eſpecially to ſtrangers. It is not unuſual to ſee a large fellow fanning himſelf, and fine women riding aſtride; as alſo to ſee a ſcore of boys, coming from ſchool, with books under their arms, and ſwords by their ſides. Perſons of every profeſſion, even to the valet, may wear a ſword; but phyſicians are obliged to drive their chariots with a ſingle horſe.

At all the houſes of the nobles in Florence, is an empty caſk hanging out, to denote they ſell wine by retail; this cuſtom ſhocks an Engliſhman, as very de⯑rogatory to their dignity; and he cannot but ſpeak of it with ſurprize. A Florentine cooly, and ſenſibly an⯑ſwers, "Sir, your Duke of —, by the interpoſi⯑tion of his ſteward, ſells a tree for ten ſhillings; a Florentine Noble, by his porter at the door, ſells ten ſhillings worth of wine; but our Noble appears no more in the ſale of his wine, than your Duke in the ſale of his tree: different countries have their differ⯑ent modes." The fact is, that great part of the rent of eſtates in Italy is paid in kind; which, joined with [142] a certain exemption from the duty on wine, granted to nobles, has led them into this ſeeming littleneſs.

I was at a moſt elegant concert, ſays Sharpe, during my ſtay in Florence, given by the Luccheſe envoy. The cuſtom, on this occaſion, is, to calculate the number of perſons the room will hold, and to invite accord⯑ingly; but ladies only are invited. It is computed that cards ſent to twenty, or twenty-ſix ladies, will bring near fourſcore gentlemen; and the number, at this aſſembly, anſwered to that calculation. The greateſt diſproportion, between the number of ladies, at the Italian converſazioni, and the London routs, is very ſtriking to an Engliſhman; but the phenomenon ad⯑mits of an eaſy ſolution. No ſingle ladies viſit in Italy; all, who are ſeen in the world, are married women. If a gentleman here has three ſons, and three daughters, two of the daughters are, moſt pro⯑bably, in a convent, whilſt all the three ſons, at leaſt two of them, have nothing elſe to do, than frequent the ſpectacles, and the converſazioni.

In Florence, adds Sharpe, the generality of ladies have their ciciſbeos; the firſt is the ciciſbeo of dig⯑nity; the ſecond is the ciciſbeo who picks up the glove, gives the fan, and pulls off, or puts on, the cloak, &c. the third ciciſbeo is, by the wags, deemed the ſubſtantial ciciſbeo, or lover.—But God knows [143] how theſe matters go, ſays Sharpe; for, in public, the ladies behave with ſo much modeſty, and with ſo much decorum, that one would be tempted to treat ſome of theſe reports as mere calumny, were not the truth of them ſo notorious; in fact, the univerſality of the vice has, in a manner, diveſted it of the ap⯑pearance of vice. In England a woman, who is pub⯑licly criminal, uſually becomes profligate and aban⯑doned; here almoſt every woman, of however virtu⯑ous a diſpoſition, falls into the general cuſtom, and is equally criminal, with the woman of looſe principles; ſo that the diſtinction of good and bad, that is, of chaſte and diſſolute, is hardly known in Italy, ſays Sharpe; in a word, tis the mode, the etiquette, the bon ton of the fine people.

Baretti is extremely enraged with the above writer, for theſe ſarcaſms thrown out againſt his countrywo⯑men; Moore likewiſe endeavoured to palliate this ſingular cuſtom, of the Italian ladies having ciciſbeos to attend them every where, by obſerving that the Italians, finding that the confinement of their wives, which was a plan they formerly adopted, was univer⯑ſally reprobated, and that any appearance of jealouſy likewiſe ſubjected them to ridicule; agreed that their wives ſhould go with company, and attend public places; but always eſcorted by a friend whom they could truſt; and who, at the ſame time, ſhould not be [144] diſagreeable to the wife. This compromiſe could not fail of being acceptable to the women, who plainly perceived they muſt be gainers by any alteration of the former ſyſtem; and it ſoon became univerſal all ovet Italy, for a woman to appear at public places, leaning on the arms of a man; who, from their fre⯑quent whiſpering together, was called her ciciſbeo. It was ſtipulated at the ſame time, that the lady, while abroad under his care, ſhould converſe with no other man, but in his preſence, and with his approbation; he was to be her guardian, her friend, and her gentle⯑man-uſher.

The cuſtom at preſent is, that this obſequious gen⯑tleman viſits the lady, every forenoon, at her toilet, where the plan for paſſing the evening is agreed upon; he diſappears before dinner, for it is uſual, all over Italy, for the huſband and wife to dine tête-à-tête, ex⯑cept on great occaſions; as when there is a public feaſt. After dinner the huſband retires, and the ciciſbeo re⯑turns, and conducts the lady to the public walk, the converſazioni, or the opera; he hands her about where⯑ever ſhe goes, preſents her coffee, ſorts her cards, and attends, with the moſt pointed aſſiduity, till the amuſe⯑ments of the evening are over; he accompanies her home, and delivers up his charge to the huſband, who is then ſuppoſed to reſume his functions.

[145]From the nature of this connection, it could not be an eaſy matter to find a ciciſbeo, who would be equally agreeable to the huſband and wife. At the beginning of the inſtitution, the huſbands, it is ſaid, preferred the platonic ſwains, who profeſſed only the metaphyſics of love; and whoſe lectures, they ima⯑gined, might refine their wives ideas, and bring them to the ſame way of thinking; in many inſtances, no doubt, it would happen that the platonic admirer acted with leſs ſeraphic ends; but theſe inſtances ſerve only as proofs that the huſbands were miſtaken in their men; for however abſurd it may appear, in the eyes of ſome people, to imagine that the huſbands believe it is only a platonic connection, which ſubſiſts between their wives and the ciciſbeos; it is ſtill more abſurd to believe, as ſome ſtrangers who have paſſed through this country ſeem to have done, that this whole ſyſtem of ciciſbeiſm was from the beginning, and is now, an univerſal ſyſtem of adultery, connived at by every Ita⯑lian huſband. To get clear of one difficulty, thoſe gentlemen fall into another, much more inexplicable; by ſuppoſing that the men, who, of all the inhabitants of Europe, were the moſt ſcrupulous, with regard to their wives chaſtity, ſhould acquieſce in, and, in a manner, become ſubſervient to, their proſtitution.

The ciciſbeo, in many inſtances, is a poor relation, or a humble friend; who, not being in circumſtances [146] to ſupport an equipage, is happy to be admitted into all the ſocieties; and to be carried about to public di⯑verſions, as an appendage to the lady. There are numbers of theſe gentlemen whoſe appearance, and bodily infirmities, carried the cleareſt refutation, with reſpect to themſelves perſonally, of the ſcandalous ſtories of an improper connection between them and their miſtreſſes. The humble and timid air, which many of them betray in the preſence of the ladies, and the perſeverance with which they continue their ſer⯑vices, notwithſtanding the contemptuous ſtile in which they are often treated, is equally unlike the haughti⯑neſs natural to favoured lovers, and the indifference of men ſatiated with enjoyment.

There are, it muſt be confeſſed, ciciſbeos of a very different ſtamp; whoſe figure and manners might be ſuppoſed more agreeable to the ladies they ſerve, than to their lords. I once expreſſed my ſurprize, ſays Moore, that a particular perſon permitted one of this deſcription to attend his wife. I was told, by way of ſolution of my difficulty, that the huſband was poor, and the ciciſbeo rich. It is not in Italy alone where infamous connections of this kind take place.

I have alſo known inſtances where the characters of the ladies were ſo well eſtabliſhed, as not to be ſhaken, either in the opinion of their acquaintances, or huſ⯑bands; [147] although their gallants were, in every reſpect, agreeable and accompliſhed.

But, whether the connection be ſuppoſed innocent, or criminal, moſt Engliſhmen will be aſtoniſhed how men can paſs ſo much of their time with women. This will appear leſs ſurpriſing, when they recollect that the Italian nobility dare not intermeddle with po⯑litics, can find no employment in the army or navy; and that there are no ſuch amuſements as hunting or drinking. In ſuch a ſituation, if a man of fortune has no turn to gaming, what muſt he do? Even an Engliſhman, in theſe deſperate circumſtances, might be driven to the company and converſation of women, to lighten the burden of time. The Italians have perſevered ſo long in this expedient, that however ex⯑traordinary it may ſeem, to thoſe who never tried it, there can be no doubt but they find it to ſucceed. They aſſert that nothing ſo effectually ſoothes the cares, and beguiles the tediouſneſs of life, as the com⯑pany of an agreeable woman; that, though the inti⯑macy ſhould never exceed the limits of friendſhip, there is ſomething more flattering, and more agreeable in it, than in male friendſhip; that they find the fe⯑male heart more ſincere, leſs intereſted, and warmer in its attachments; and that women, in general, have more delicacy than men. But it may be replied, that a man can enjoy all theſe advantages, to as great [148] perfection, by an intimacy and friendſhip with his own wife, as with his neighbour's? "Non Monſieur, point," No, Sir, by no means, anſwered a Frenchman, to whom this queſtion was once addreſſed. "Et pour⯑quoi done? Parceque cela n'eſt pas permis." And why not—becauſe it is not the faſhion? This does not ſeem a very ſatisfactory anſwer, to ſo pertinent a queſtion; it is, however, the only anſwer to be ob⯑tained all over Italy.

This ſyſtem is, however, unknown to the middle, and lower ranks; they paſs their time in the exerciſe of their profeſſions, and in the ſociety of their wives and children, as in other countries; and, in that ſphere of life, jealouſy, which formed ſo ſtrong a feature in the Italian character, is ſtill to be found as ſtrong as ever. He who attempts to viſit the wife, or miſtreſs of any of the trades-people, without their permiſſion, is in no ſmall danger of a coltellata. Is has often been aſſerted, that Italian women have remarkable powers of attracting their lovers. Thoſe powers, whatever they are, do not ſeem to depend entirely on perſonal charms; as many of them retain their influence after their beauty is much in the vane: and they themſelves conſiderably advanced in years. I know, ſays Moore, an Italian nobleman, of great fortune, who has been lately married to a very beautiful young woman, and [149] yet continues his aſſiduity to his former miſtreſs, now an old woman, as punctual as ever.

Whatever ſatisfaction the Italians find in this kind of conſtancy, and in their friendly attachments to one woman; my friend, the marquis de F—, ſays Moore, told me, when I ſaw him at Paris, that he had tried it while he remained at Rome, and found it quite in⯑tolerable. A certain obliging eccleſiaſtic had taken the trouble, at the earneſt requeſt of a lady of that city, to arrange matters between her and the marquis, who was put into immediate poſſeſſion of all the rights that were ever ſuppoſed to belong to a ciciſbeo. The woman deteſted her huſband, which had advanced mat⯑ters conſiderably; and her paſſion for the marquis was in proportion to her abhorrence of the other. In this ſtate things had remained but a very ſhort time, when the marquis called, one afternoon, to drive the Abbé out a little way into the country; but he hap⯑pened to have juſt dined. The meals of this eccleſi⯑aſtic were generally oppreſſive, for two or three hours after they were finiſhed; he therefore declined the in⯑vitation, ſaying, by way of apology, Je ſuis dans les horreurs de la digeſtion. "I am in all the horrors of digeſtion." He then enquired how the marquis's amour went on with the lady. Ah pour l'amour cela eſt a peu près paſſé, replied the marquis, & nous ſommes actuellement dans les horreurs de l'amitiê. "Oh! as for [150] love, that is paſt, ſays the marquis, and we are now in all the horrors of friendſhip."

The lower people in Italy, who have bread enough, ſpend more than would eaſily be credited in wine; though neither their abilities, nor the example of their betters, lead them into drunkenneſs. They have a notion that it is wholeſome, and therefore give it to their children at the breaſt. Some of the Florentine nobles allow their men-ſervants ſeven or eight ſhillings a month, for this article only, rather than furniſh them with it, which they always ſpend.

As to their table, ſays Groſley, I have often heard people, with a ſneer, extol the Florentine ſuppers; which, ſay they, conſiſt of a few ſallad leaves, ga⯑thered by the gueſts themſelves, from pots ſtanding at the window, and garniſhed with a little wild endive. I have, however, dined at ſome houſes in Florence; where, beſides plenty and goodneſs, every thing was ſerved up extremely neat; the wine excellent; and, what improved the reliſh of the whole, was that feſti⯑vity inherent in the Florentines. I muſt further add, that, in the whole courſe of my travels, I never found an inn, where we fared ſo well, were ſo well attended, and the bills ſo reaſonable, as at Florence; an evi⯑dent proof of the plenty, and ſuper-abundance of proviſions.

[151]The palaces of the nobles in Florence are very large; indeed they are of ſuch extent that, uſually, only one floor is occupied at the ſame time. During winter they inhabit the upper apartments; and, in ſummer, reſide entirely on the ground-floor; a moſt agreeable piece of luxury in the northern parts of Italy, which are of ſuch oppoſite degrees of heat and cold, in the two ſeaſons. Houſe-rent is very cheap in Florence.

CHAP. IX. Of their Amuſements, Arts, Literature, Commerce, &c.

ON every twenty-fourth of June they have a horſe, and chariot race in this city, in imitation of the ancients; and as a feſtivity in honour of St. John the Baptiſt, the tutelar ſaint of Florence. It is exhibited in the great ſquare, which is ſurrounded by guards to keep off the mob. The horſes ſtart without riders; and run full two miles, through the ſtreets, from the gate called del prato, to that called ſanta croce. The ſtreets are covered with ſand on this occaſion; and the horſes have a round machine, ſomething like a ball, hanging down their ſides by ſtrings, with ſmall iron pricks in it, as ſharp as the point of a lancet; ſo that the faſter they run, the more they ſpur themſelves. They ſtart for a piece of velvet, of about thirty pounds value, and run with incredible ſpeed. Before theſe races begin, the principal nobility and gentry parade the ſtreets in their fineſt equipages. Their coaches are prodigiouſly grand, finely carved, and [154] richly gilt, with glaſs all around them. They go down on one ſide of the ſtreet, and up the other, for two hours; meeting and ſaluting one another. The ladies make a moſt brilliant, and charming appear⯑ance, as they are generally beautiful, and richly dreſſed. When the horſes are ready to ſtart, notice is given, by ſound of trumpet, for the coaches to quit the ſtreet. Then the quality go into houſes, moſt of which have balconies covered with tapeſtry, ſome with fine damaſk, and others with velvet; which renders the ſtreet, from one end to the other, extremely plea⯑ſant and gay.

The carnival is alſo a time of great diverſion among the Florentines, who are then generally maſked; and aſ⯑ſemble, in the afternoon, in the ſquare of ſanta croce, which is railed in, ſometimes, to the number of ten thou⯑ſand maſks, and upwards, richly dreſſed, in all kinds of characters; but no prieſt dares to be preſent, at theſe di⯑verſions, in maſk, for fear of the inquiſition. While theſe diverſions paſs within the rails, others are going forward on the outſide, either in coaches or cars; ſome of which are full of muſicians, who ſit on benches, as in our orcheſtra, dreſſed in the moſt whimſical groteſque manner; and play a variety of tunes, on different inſtruments. The drivers, and even their horſes, are all in maſquerade; ſo that it is impoſſible to conceive the gaiety of this carnival, which continues about [155] three weeks, or a month; but Sundays are the greateſt days for theſe diverſions, which end when Lent begins.

Corpus Chriſti day is alſo a grand feſtival at Flo⯑rence; when the clergy go, in ſolemn proceſſion, to the cathedral. The different orders of monks are then dreſſed in long ſaſhes, and each perſon carries a lighted torch in his hand, through the ſtreets, which are ſtrewed with flowers, and leaves of ever-green. Above one thouſand of them walk two and two, in this proceſſion, according to their ſeniority; ſome of whom have ſilver candleſticks, near five feet high, with large wax candles, lighted, carrying before them. The prieſts follow next, in great numbers; then the clergy belonging to the cathedral; after theſe come the canons, who are chiefly of the nobility, ſome with purple and ſcarlet cloaks; others with fine pieces of camel ſkins hanging looſe on their ſhoulders. Theſe are ſucceeded by the dignified clergy; after whom follows the archbiſhop of Florence, under a magni⯑ficent canopy, with the hoſt in his hand, attended by the nobility and gentry, all bare headed, and each car⯑rying a lighted flambeau, with their ſervants by their ſide. Theſe are followed by the guards, bare-headed, and they are ſucceeded by the magiſtrates in their robes. This proceſſion begins about ſix in the morn⯑ing, and continues paſſing by till noon, through ſeveral [156] ſtreets, covered on the tops with canvas, to make an agreeable ſhade.

It is but little more than three centuries ſince that part of Italy, which lies between the Tyrrhene ſea and the higheſt mountains of the Apennines, was divided into eight or nine ſmall republican ſtates; each ſo jea⯑lous of the reſt, that they were continually making war upon each other, with as much fury as the paucity of their troops would admit.

Their diſſentions proved fatal to their liberty; be⯑ing all reduced under the the dominion of the Grand Duke of Tuſcany, except the little territory of Lucca. The Tuſcans, in that divided and republican ſtate, were a moſt ferocious and brutal people; but having loſt that, which, in the common language of politicians, has long been honoured with the name of liberty, thought, as they enjoyed it by no means deſerving of that reſpectable appellation, the inclinations and man⯑ners of the Tuſcans underwent a happy change. Arts and literature were the only occupations in which, under their new form of government, they could find full employment for their buſy and reſtleſs minds. They turned to them on a ſudden; and with ſuch eagerneſs, that ſoon forced mankind to look upon them, as the only people in Europe, fit to be their teacher.

[157]On ſeeing literature and arts thus happily revived in Tuſcany, ſeveral of the greateſt, among the ſove⯑reigns of Europe, became ſenſible of their efficacy towards poliſhing the human ſpecies; and were deſi⯑rous of having them introduced into their reſpective dominions.

To obtain this laudable end, ſeveral of the French monarchs invited many of the moſt celebrated artiſts, and men of letters from Florence, and other parts of Tuſcany, and encouraged them with ſuch liberality, that in a little time they were able to produce a very remarkable change, in the manners of that nation; till then addicted to, almoſt, nothing but barbarous gallantry, and the deſtructive art of war. Thus Tuſ⯑cany was the miſtreſs of politeneſs to France; and this little province may juſtly boaſt of having produced, and nearly at one time, a greater number of extra⯑ordinary men, than any, ſays Baretti, of the moſt ex⯑tenſive European dominions.

The good effects produced in Tuſcany, by the cul⯑tivation of arts and literature, continue to this time. It is true the Tuſcans are inferior to their forefathers, in many reſpects, and particularly in the polite arts; but where is the modern nation whoſe artiſts can claim any equality with Michael Angelo, C. Lionardo, Donatello, Cellini, and other ingenious men of that [158] age? Yet the Tuſcans are ſtill poſſeſſed of as much ſkill and taſte, in thoſe arts, as any other modern nations; as the accounts given, by almoſt all tra⯑vellers, of the elegance of their buildings, furni⯑ture, and general mode of living atteſt; add to this, the many Tuſcan artiſts to be met with, in the differ⯑ent capitals on the continent, and particularly in Lon⯑don. As to their academical accompliſhments, thoſe who have taken the trouble to read the writings of Gori, Cocchi, Lami, Perelli, and other modern Tuſcan writers, muſt allow that Florence is intitled to as much literary fame, as any town in Europe, of equal di⯑menſions.

Among the general characteriſtics of the Floren⯑tines is their love of poetry, and their cuſtom of im⯑proviſare, or ſinging verſe ex tempore, to the guitar, or any other muſical inſtruments.

Both theſe qualities in them are of very ancient date. The Tuſcans were ſmitten by the charms of poetry, to a greater degree than any other people, as ſoon as their language began to be turned towards verſe. One of our novelliſts, remarks the above writer, ſays that the common people of Florence uſed to ſing the poem of Dante, about the ſtreets, during the life of that poet; whom we juſtly conſider as our firſt poetic writer. It appears, beſides, that the ancient [159] odes, ſongs, &c. collected by Laſca, were chiefly com⯑poſed by people of the loweſt claſs in Tuſcany; ſuch as ſhoemakers, carpenters, coblers, barbers, &c.

Having now ſpoken of their literature, we ſhall give a ſtriking anecdote of their ignorance and ſuper⯑ſtition; extracted from Sharpe, who avers it to be fact. Madame Minorbetti, a woman of diſtinction at Flo⯑rence, gave occaſion, from her name, ſays this writer, to one of the moſt ridiculous events that ever fell within my knowledge; and which would put to the bluſh ſome of the curious Greek etymologies we are enter⯑tained with in the poſthumous works of Dean Swift. He aſſerts, for the honour of Great Britain, that many of thoſe names, which we call Greek, are derived from the Engliſh language; and, by corruption, have at⯑tained the caſt of the Greek language. For example, he ſays, "Andromache is a corruption of the Scotch name Andrew Mackay; Archimedes of Hark ye maids," &c. &c. It ſeems a relation of Madame Minorbetti, in the agonies of death, was deſirous to have a famous relic in Florence, no leſs than an arm of our Arch⯑biſhop Becket, brought to his bed-ſide; from a per⯑ſuaſion he ſhould be reſtored to health, by its mira⯑culous influence. The monk, in whoſe poſſeſſion the arm is, rejected the petition; and pleaded the impoſ⯑ſibility of carrying it beyond the precincts of the con⯑vent; the relations, on the other hand, urged that [160] they were deſcended from the family of the Beckets, and, therefore that ſuch uſage might be diſpenſed with; the argument was admitted to be good, and the monk only demanded a proof of the conſanguinity; which was demonſtrated in the following manner:—"A biſhop," ſaid they, "in England, is always called Mi⯑lor, (my Lord) which eaſily, in Italian, is corrupted into Minor; then Becket as eaſily degenerates into Betti; ſo that Milor-Becket, naturally becomes Minor-betti." This notable argument was deemed ſo valid, that the relic was brought out of the convent to the ſick man.

Among inſtances of foreign barbariſm, the Floren⯑tines make themſelves very merry with the behaviour of the confeſſor of Don Carlos, at the door of the Me⯑dicean library. This confeſſor, attended the young prince, when he went to take poſſeſſion of the Tuſcan dominions. Being the only perſon in the ſuite, the cut of whoſe garment promiſed any ſcholarſhip; the librarian, concluding he muſt long to ſee one of the moſt ſpendid monuments, which the munificence of princes ever dedicated to literature, immediately waited on him, with a very reſpectful invitation. He received the compliment tolerably well, and a day was fixed. The director of the library had collected all the moſt eminent literati in Florence; and the con⯑feſſor, after partaking of a very elegant collation, [161] moved towards the library, followed by this reſpect⯑able company. On coming to the door he ſtopped; and, after gazing about him for an inſtant, called out to the director, "Mr. Librarian, have you got the the book of the Seven Trumpets here?" The director ſaid he had not; and the whole company, with ſome confuſion, owned they had never heard of ſuch a book. "Well then," ſaid the confeſſor, turning back, "your whole library is not worth a pipe of tobacco." No time was loſt to get an account of this book; which was found to be a collection of pious ſtories, put into Spaniſh, for the uſe of the loweſt of the com⯑mon people in Spain.

In the moſt flouriſhing aeras of the republic, com⯑merce, banking, and induſtry were the nurture and ſupport of the nobility. Coſmo de Medicis became the principal man in the ſtate, becauſe he was the prin⯑cipal merchant and banker of Florence, if not of all Europe. Peter his ſon, and Laurence his grandſon, continued commerce, and banking. All the public and private edifices of any celebrity were erected by merchants; and the greater part by perſons in the woollen trade. To this manufacture the republic of Florence chiefly owed its grandeur. The names of the commercial houſes, at the head of the paper, linen, wood, tile, cheeſe, and coal trades, ſtill ſubſiſt.

[162]Commerce at Florence is now reduced to a very low ebb, in compariſon to what it was formerly. The woollen manufacture, in particular, ſcarce ſupplies the common people; as to all the fine cloth, it is import⯑ed from England.

Of ſilk, Tuſcany produces an immenſe quantity; which, though of ſuch ſuperior quality, is exported raw. The regency, however, to keep ſuch a valu⯑able commodity in the country, and thereby encou⯑rage induſtry, have prohibited its exportation. Ac⯑cordingly, former manufacturers are reviving, and new ones ſetting up. All exports of this kind, ſuch as ſattins, damaſks, velvets, are well executed, the colours fine, and the patterns elegant, and drawn with taſte.

Jewellery, and porcelain, the manufactories of which have continued in Tuſcany from the ancient Etruſ⯑cans, and Intagliatas, employ a conſiderable number of hands, though they can ſcarce be accounted branches of commerce.

Dying was formerly carried on to a very great ex⯑tent; as the territory of Tuſcany produces a plant ſaid to be a good ſubſtitute for indigo; and which might eaſily be fown in ſuch quantities, as to make a conſi⯑derable article of exportation.

[163]The wine all round Florence is in great requeſt all over Italy. It is both ſtomachic and light; and thus unites the generoſum and lene, which was its great recommendation to the ancients.

Among the many excellent regulations, which owe either their origin or improvement to this country, we have omitted financing; the importance and ad⯑vantages of which muſt be eſtimated by the brilliant, and ſolid fortunes gained by it; and not from the calamity of the countries, which have been the the⯑atre of its ſpeculations.

This ſcience, with which the more northern coun⯑tries are little acquainted, was, for a long time, culti⯑vated by the Florentines; who managed it with all that dexterity, and addreſs, for which they were diſtin⯑guiſhed in commerce. It was one of the principal reſources in the laſt ſtruggles for liberty, in the years 1530, and 1531. Thoſe, who followed the fortunes of Catherine de Medicis into France, finding the country fallow, began tilling it with financing, which laſted during part of the reign of Lewis XIII. The chief contractors were Florentines; either ſuch as had quitted their country, or ſtill kept an eſtabliſhment at Florence; the very terms, in financing, beſpeak the country from whence they originated; moſt of them being borrowed from the Italian.

[164]The Grand Duke's ordinary income is computed at three millions of piaſters a year. In 1753, it was re-reſolved that in future the entire military force, of this great duchy, ſhould conſiſt only of three regiments of foot, and one of dragoons of five hundred men. In 1755, another regiment of dragoons was added, and the militia was formed into regiments; but the Great Duke is ſaid, in caſe of neceſſity, to be able to bring into the field 30,000 men; and to fit out twenty ſhips of war, twelve gallies, and ſome cutters.

Of this duchy, the chief officer, at preſent, is a governor, appointed by the Great Duke. He re⯑ſides at Florence; where is alſo a council of regency, the military board, and other officers of ſtate.

CHAP. IX. Republic of Saint Marino.

THIS ſmall ſtate, incloſed by Romagna and Urbino, is under the Popes protection; it has already laſted near fourteen centuries, and is ſaid to have its origin in the following manner. Marino, a Dalmatian by birth, and a maſon by trade, betook himſelf to a lonely mountain here; where his auſtere and ſolitary life gained him ſuch a character for ſanctity, that the princeſs of the country made him a preſent of the country, to diſpoſe of it at his own diſcretion. This reputation quickly peopled it, and gave riſe to the republic which calls itſelf after his name. So that the common wealth of Marino may boaſt, at leaſt, of a nobler origin than that of Rome; the one, at firſt, having been an aſylum for robbers and murderers; and the other the reſort of perſons eminent for their piety, and devotion. The beſt of their churches is dedicated to the ſaint, and holds his aſhes. His ſtatue ſtands over the high altar, with [166] the figure of a mountain in his hands; which is alſo the arms of the common wealth. They attribute to his protection the long duration of their ſtate; and look on him as the greateſt ſaint, next the bleſſed virgin. In their ſtatute-book, they have enacted a law againſt ſuch as ſpeak diſrepectfully of him; who are to be puniſhed in the ſame manner, as thoſe convicted of blaſphemy.

The town, and republic of Saint Marino, ſtands on the top of a very high, and craggy mountain. It is generally hid among the clouds. There is not a ſpring, or fountain in the whole dominions; but they are always well provided with large ciſterns, and reſer⯑voirs of rain, and ſnow-water.

This mountain, and a few neighbouring hillocks that lie ſcattered about the bottom of it, is the whole circuit of their dominions. They have, what they call, three caſtles, three convents, and five churches; and reckon about five thouſand inhabitants in their community.

The people are divided into three claſſes; nobles, citizens, and peaſants. The council of ſtate is formed from all three; twenty choſen from each, who act for life. Every ſix months they elect two chiefs to preſide, called captains, who are inveſted with ſuch [167] a power as the old Roman conſuls had; but the office is never to be continued to the ſame perſon's turn ſucceſſively; the one is taken from the nobles, the other from the city, or country. There is no ſuperiority between them, or diſtinction, but in the nobleman's taking the right hand. The third officer is the commiſſary; who judges in all civil, and crimi⯑nal matters: he is allowed the fine which thoſe per⯑ſons are obliged to pay, who are found culpable be⯑fore him, by the council, or jury. Becauſe the many alliances, friendſhips and intermarriages, as well as the perſonal feuds, and animoſities, that hap⯑pen, among ſo ſmall a people, might obſtruct the court of juſtice, if one of their own number had the diſtri⯑bution of it, they have always a foreigner for this employ; whom they chuſe for three years, and main⯑tain out of the public ſtock. He muſt be a doctor of law, and a man of known integrity. He is joined in commiſſion with the two captains, or chiefs; and acts ſomething like the recorder of London, under the Lord Mayor.

The phyſician is the fourth man in the ſtate, and is allowed 200 crowns a year. He is obliged to keep a horſe, viſit the ſick, and inſpect all the drugs that are imported. He muſt be, at leaſt, thirty-five years old; a doctor of the faculty, and eminent for his religion, and honeſty; that his raſhneſs or ignorance [168] may not unpeople the commonwealth; and, that they may not long ſuffer under a bad choice, he alſo is elected only for three years.

Another perſon, who makes no ordinary figure in the republic, is the ſchool-maſter; and ſcarce any of the inhabitants are to be met with, who have not ſome tincture of learning.

No clergy are admitted into their government; and once a year, three young women are given in marriage, with a fortune of thirty-three crowns each.

No execution, ſays Northall, had ever been re⯑membered here by the perſon who gave me an ac⯑count of the place; though he was one of the nobles, and upwards of fifty years of age. So that, Addiſon juſtly obſerves, that the people are eſteemed very honeſt, and vigorous in the execution of juſtice; and ſeem to live more happy, and contented, among their rocks, and ſnows, than the reſt of the Italians, in the pleaſanteſt valleys of Italy. Nothing can be a greater inſtance of the love mankind have for liberty, and their averſion to arbitrary government, than to ſee ſuch a ſavage mountain covered with people, and the campagna of Rome, almoſt deſtitute of inhabitants.

CHAP. I. Country, Climate.

THE Venetian territories, in Italy, are bounded by the country of the Griſons; by Trent, and the province of Tyrol, towards the North; by Carniola, and the gulph of Venice, to the Eaſt; by Mantua and Ferrara to the South; and by the Duchy of Milan to the Weſt; being about 180 miles in extent, from Eaſt to Weſt; an hundred in breadth, toward the eaſt end, but ſcarce half that breadth towards the weſtern extremity. They are ſituated in [170] thirteen degrees of Eaſt longitude, and forty-five degrees of North latitude.

The iſlands, on which the city of Venice ſtands, were formerly ſubject to Padua; the Goths, and other northen people, invading Italy in the fifth century; the inhabitants of Padua, Aquileia, and other cities on the continent, fled thither for ſhelter, and formed a republic.

The Venetians ſoon became very rich and power⯑ful, having by their induſtry engroſſed moſt of the Levant trade; from Alexandria, and the ports of Aſia, they alſo brought all the rich merchandize of India, and the eaſtern nations; and diſtributed them all over Europe. They were then, in a manner, ſovereigns of the Mediterranean, as well as the Adriatic ſeas; they poſſeſſed the Morea, the iſlands of the Archipelago, and the Levant; they ſubdued great part of Italy, North of the Po; and, in con⯑junction with the French, reduced the city of Con⯑ſtantinople, and ſeveral other places on the coaſts of Aſia, and Europe; but, upon the Portugueſe diſ⯑covering the way to India by the cape of Good Hope, their trade, and conſequently their wealth, and power declined. They loſt moſt of the Grecian iſlands, and likewiſe their territories on the continent of Italy; but the latter they recovered. The Morea was taken [171] from them in 1715, in a ſingle campaign. They, however, ſtill retain Iſtria, Morlachia, the ſea-coaſt of Dalmatia, and the adjacent iſlands; beſides the Paduan, Veroneſe, and other territories in Italy; of all which we ſhall treat in their proper order, begin⯑ning with thoſe in Italy.

Some writers have divided the Venetian territo⯑ries, excluſive of the iſlands of Corfu, and in the Mediteranean, into five provinces; the duchy of Venice, comprehending the capital, and its adjacent little iſlands, Venetian Lombardy, La Marca Trevigiana one of the richeſt ſpots in Italy; the duchy of Friuli; and Iſtria on the Adriatic. The Venetians are alſo in poſſeſſion of ſome fiefs in the kingdom of the two Sicilies; and the general population is eſtimated at near three million of inhabitants.

The principal iſlands, at preſent in their poſſeſſion, are Corfu, Zant, and Cephalonia; the former of which is calculated to have about fifty thouſand inha⯑bitants. The other iſlands, in the Mediterranean, con⯑tain about as many more.

The Venetian territories in Italy, being part of ancient Lombardy, there cannot be a finer climate, nor better air; if we except thoſe parts adjoining to the ſea-coaſt. The only ſea, which belongs to the [172] Venetians, is the Adriatic; or Venetian gulph, as it is otherwiſe termed; at the bottom of which lies the capital. The tide ebbs, and flows, regularly twice in four and twenty hours; riſing about four feet at high water. Nor, if we may credit Addiſon, are they in the leaſt apprehenſive that the ſea will leave their coaſt, which ſome writers have aſſerted, and that Ve⯑nice would, in time, become united to the continent. There is no part of Italy where fiſh is ſo abundant, as in the gulph of Venice.

The ſea, and neighbouring rivers, ſays Keyſler, furniſh the Venetian tables, at the proper ſeaſons of the year, with no leſs than ſeventy-ſeven different kinds of fiſh; ſeveral of which are peculiar to theſe parts.

The principal rivers are, the Po, the Piava, the Adige, the Sila, and the Brenta; all which fall into the Adriatic. This country is alſo well watered with lakes; the principal of which are the lake de Garda, being about thirty-five miles in length, and twelve in breadth; and the Iſco, fifteen miles in length, and three in breadth.

The country, in general, is level, and as fertile as any part of Italy; it abounds in arable and paſture land, in vineyards, and plantations of mulberries. [173] The road, between Verona and Padua, is very plea⯑ſant, being planted with great quantities of white mul⯑berry-trees, in ſquares; the leaves of which not only furniſh food for their ſilk worms; and the mulberries food for their poultry and hogs; but the branches, like⯑wiſe, ſerve to ſupport the vines; which hang like gar⯑lands, from tree to tree; and within the incloſures, are fields of corn; which, in theſe hot countries, ripen much better within the ſhades of the mulberry trees, than if they were expoſed to the ſun.

There are alſo great quantities of cattle, of all kinds, which travellers remark are, in general, either grey or white; but that their hogs are uſually black; and their fleſh much ſweeter, and better taſted than in France or England; this is ſuppoſed to be owing to their food, as they are fed chiefly with truffles, which are a delicious root; they are alſo fed with the huſks of grapes, newly preſſed, cheſnuts, mulberries, &c. The Padua ſheep are ſaid to afford wool little inferior to that of England; and there is no country where there is ſuch plenty of fowls, and all manner of game, as in the territories of Venice.

The Venetian territories, ſays Beaufort, are, in general, equally fertile with the moſt cultivated parts of Italy. In ſome parts agriculture is carried to its higheſt pitch of perfection. There are, however, ſome [174] marſhes, and uncultivated land, in the diſtricts of Verona, Iſtria, Friuli, and eſpecially in Dalmatia; the greateſt part of which is little better than a deſert. It is owing to this circumſtance, that a ſcarcity of corn is generally felt, every four or five years. In ordinary years, all kinds of corn grows in great abun⯑dance, eſpecially maize; which is the principal ſub⯑ſiſtence of the common people. Wine, culinary herbs, and fruits are, almoſt always, produced in great abundance; with reſpect to corn, though the continent ſcarce furniſhes enough for its own con⯑ſumption, Iſtria, Dalmatia, and the Venetian Levant, grow ſuch large quantities, that a great deal is ex⯑ported. Several of the diſtricts produce very fine hemp and flax. The iſlands of the Levant abound with Corinthian grapes. Albania produces to⯑bacco of the very beſt quality; a great deal is like⯑wiſe brought from Sclavonia, and from Turkey. The ſilk that is produced in Lombardy, likewiſe, helps to ſupport all the manufactures of the country. The mines of Bergamo, and Breſcia, are alſo a great ſource of wealth.

CHAP. II. Cities.

VENICE, in Latin Venetia, or Venetioe, the capital, and ſeat of the republic, makes a very grand appearance at a diſtance; as ſeeming, from its being built on a multitude of little iſlands, to float upon the ſea; or rather, with its ſtately buildings, and ſteeples, to ſeem as it were riſing out of it. The number of theſe iſlands ſtill remains uncertain; ſome reckoning ſixty, others ſeventy-two, and others again, making them amount to one hundred and thirty-eight. But the latter enumeration muſt comprehend all thoſe places, which have gradually been raiſed in the La⯑guna, by driving piles in the ground for building on. This city ſtands, at leaſt, four miles from any part of the terra firma; and is, perhaps, the moſt impregnable town in Europe. The Laguna, or marſhy land, ly⯑ing between the city and the continent; which is five miles in breadth, is too ſhallow for large ſhips; but, by the attention of the republic, is prevented from [176] becoming part of the continent, and from being ever ſo frozen, as to bear an army. The acceſs to Venice, towards the ſea, is alſo difficult; but the ſafe, and navigable parts are indicated by piles; which, at the approach of an enemy's fleet, can cut away. Beſides, as a conſiderable number of gallies, and men of war, may be fitted out very expeditiouſly for ſea, from the dock, which contains ſuch vaſt quantities of naval ſtores; it is evident that the city, being thus ſecure from any attack, either by land or water, muſt be, in a manner, impregnable, though it has no fortifi⯑cations. The fiſh, which are caught even at the very doors of the houſes, may be reputed a good preſer⯑vative againſt famine. The ſeveral canals leading to the city, among the ſand banks, and marſhy ſhallows are, though at a vaſt expence, kept clear of the mud, and ſlime the food brings with it. Some of theſe canals, however, being very narrow, the mud is not ſo effectually carried off, as to prevent ill ſmell in hot weather.

This canal, which divides the city into two parts, is one thouſand three hundred paces long. The way of going up, and down the city, is in Gondolas; which indeed ſtrike the eye of a ſtranger, at firſt ſight, with a very gloomy appearance; being all of them lined either with black cloth, or ſerge, and painted black. They will not carry above four or five per⯑ſons; and as the awning is ſo low, that no one can conveniently ſtand upright in the gondola; when a ſtrangers gets into one of them, it ſeems as if he was creeping into a herſe, or tomb, hung with black. The left ſide is always accounted the place of honour; becauſe he, who ſits on the right, muſt face the rower, who intercepts the view, and often unavoidably ſplaſhes him.

The gondolas glide very ſwiftly along the canals, and the gondoliers avoid each other with ſurprizing exactneſs, and celerity; they make uſe of the word Stacando, or Stali, to ſignify, to thoſe coming another way, to keep on the right hand; and premando, or premi, as a notice to paſs on the left; ſo that gondolas ſeldom run each other down.

[178]There is no conveyance in this town, ſays Lady Millar, but by water; out of the door of your lodg⯑ing, you ſtep into your gondola, inſtead of your coach. A gondola with two oars, at Venice, is as magnificent, as a coach and ſix horſes, with a large equipage in another country. The motion of them is extremely agreeable; two gondoliers manage one ſo dexterouſly, that they will whip round a ſharp corner of their watery ſtreets, with more agility than the beſt coachman in London can take a ſhort turn there. He that governs the helm ſtands in the moſt graceful attitude imaginable.

One cannot be an hour, on theſe canals, without ſeeing ſeveral of the Barcaroles ſhifting themſelves; for it is a cuſtom among them to have always a dry ſhirt, ready to put on, the moment they have landed their fare; and they would expect to die, if, by any accident, they were under the neceſſity of ſuffering a damp ſhirt to dry on their bodies. On the other hand, it is curious to obſerve how little they dread damp ſheets, throughout Italy; and the people at inns are ſo little apprized of an objection to damp ſheets, that, when deſired to hang them before the fire, they requeſt you will feel how wet they are; being prepoſſeſſed, that you mean they have not been waſhed.

[179]Over the ſeveral canals are laid four hundred and fifty (ſome ſay upwards of five hundred) bridges, great and ſmall, and the better part of them ſtone; the higheſt, and longeſt is the Rialto; which, in the midſt of the city, croſſes the great canal, at its nar⯑roweſt part; where it is but forty paces broad. The bridge conſiſts of only one ſingle arch, and a very noble one it is; whoſe foundation takes up ninety feet, reſting on twelve thouſand elm piles, and every where incruſtated with marble. It is ſaid to have coſt the republic two hundred and fifty thouſand ducats. In the upper part of it, it is thirty-ſeven paces broad; with two rows of ſhops, forming, as it were, three ſtreets, on its upper ſurface; of which that in the middle is the broadeſt. At each end, is an aſcent of fifty-ſix ſteps.

The view from the Rialto is equally lively and magnificent; the objects, immediately under the eye, are the grand canal, covered with boats, and gondo⯑las, and flanked on each ſide with magnificent pa⯑laces, churches, and ſpires; but this fine proſpect, according to Moore, is almoſt the only one in Ve⯑nice; for, except the grand canal, and the canal Regio, all the others are narrow and mean; ſome of them have no quays; the water literally waſhes the walls of the houſes. In going along theſe wretched canals, there is no one agreeable object, to cheer [180] the ſight; and the ſmell, at certain ſeaſons, is over⯑powered with the ſtench, that exales from theſe waters.

The city may indeed be every where traverſed on foot; but the ſtreets are very narrow, and the pave⯑ment, which is a ſmooth white ſtone, is very ſlippery in wet weather. They are always kept very neat; however, no carriage, not ſo much as a chaiſe ever paſſing through them. The many ſmall bridges, with their ſteps, are not a little dangerous to croſs over, from the ſlipperineſs of the pavement, and their hav⯑ing, in general, no fence on either ſide.

In alluſion to the ſlipperineſs of the pavement, there is a proverb, adviſing perſons, to beware of the four P's, at Venice; namely, Pietra bianca, Putana, Prete, and Pantalone; i. e. a white ſtone, a whore, a prieſt, and the laſt P may denote either mounte⯑banks and jugglers, or the nobility themſelves; that being a nick-name, given them, by the vulgar.

The ſituation of Venice has been celebrated, in the following lines, by the famous poet Sannagario; for each of which, the republic made him a preſent of one hundred louis-d'ors.

Thus badly verſified, by Collier.

The following dialogue was formerly to be ſeen in St. Mark's Church, written in Latin, between a foreigner, and an old man. The former was diſtin⯑guiſhed by the letter A, which ſignified Advena, and the latter by the letter S, which ſtood for ſenex. A tranſlation of it, as ſhewing the vanity of the Vene⯑tians, may not perhaps be unacceptable to ſome of our readers.

[182]"A. Pray old gentleman by whom was the city of Venice founded? S. By Jupiter. A. Who contriv⯑ed its arſenal? S. Minerva. A. Who ſtocked it with ladies of pleaſure? S. Venus. A. Who built its walls? S. Neptune. A. From whom did it de⯑rive its coin? S. From Dido. A. To whom does it owe its military glory? S. To Mars. A. Its com⯑merce? S. To Mercury. A. Its laws? S. To Mi⯑nerva. No wonder, therefore, it ſo far excels other cities, ſince it owes its origin to ſo many deities."

The view of Venice, at ſome little diſtance from the town, ſays Moore, is mentioned by many travel⯑lers, in terms of the higheſt admiration. I had been ſo often forwarned of the amazement, with which I ſhould be ſtruck, at firſt ſight of this city, that when I actually did ſee it, I felt little or no amazement at all. You will behold, ſaid thoſe anticipators, magni⯑ficent palaces, churches, towns and ſteeples, all ſtand⯑ing in the middle of the ſea. This, continues the above writer, is unqueſtionably an uncommon ſcene; and there is no manner of doubt that a town, ſur⯑rounded by water, is a very fine ſight; but all the travellers that have exiſted, ſince the days of Cain, will not convince me that a town ſurrounded by land, is not a much finer. Can there be any compariſon between the dull monotony of a watry ſurface, and [183] the delightful variety of gardens, meadows, hills and woods?

If the ſituation of Venice renders it leſs agreeable than another city, to behold at a diſtance, it muſt render it in a much ſtronger degree, leſs agreeable to inhabit. For it ſhould be recollected, that inſtead of walking, or riding in the fields, and enjoying the fragrance of herbs, and the melody of birds; a per⯑ſon, who wiſhes to take the air here, muſt ſubmit to be paddled from morning to night, in a narrow boat, along dirty canals; or, if he does not like this, he has one reſource more, which is that of walking in St. Mark's place. Theſe are the diſadvantages which Venice labours under, with regard to ſituation.

Venice is ſaid to be built in the ſea; that is, it is built in the midſt of ſhallows, which ſtretch ſome miles from the ſhore, at the bottom of the Adriatic gulph. Though theſe ſhallows, being now all covered with water, have the appearance of one great lake, yet they are called, in the plural, lakes; becauſe, formerly, as it is imagined, there were ſeveral. In ſailing on the Lagunae, and looking to the bottom, many large hol⯑lows are to be ſeen; which, at ſome former period, have, very poſſibly, been diſtinct lakes; though now, being all covered with a common ſurface of water, they form one large lake, of unequal depth. The in⯑tervals [184] between theſe hollows, it is ſuppoſed, were little iſlands, and are now ſhallows; which, at ebb, are all within reach of a pole.

The lake, in which Venice ſtands, is a kind of ſmall inner gulph, ſeparated from the large gulph by ſome iſlands, at a few miles diſtance. Theſe iſlands, in a great meaſure, break the force of the Adriatic ſtorms, before they reach the Lagunae; yet, in very high winds, the navigation of the lake is dangerous to gondolas; and, ſometimes, the gondoliers do not truſt themſelves even on the canals, within the city. This is not ſo great an inconvenience, as may be at firſt imagined; becauſe moſt of the houſes have one door opening upon a canal, and another communicating with the ſtreet; by means of which, and the bridges, the inhabitants can go to almoſt any part of the town, by land as well as by water.

The number of inhabitants has been, by ſome, com⯑puted at two hundred thouſand, including thoſe in the adjacent iſlands, and ſuch as live on the water. Others, who do not include the iſlanders and the ma⯑riners, think, that during the carnival, the whole num⯑ber of people, at Venice, ſcarce exceeds this number. The principal inhabitants are the nobility, citadini, or citizens; after whom may be reckoned the lawyers, notaries, phyſicians, wealthy merchants, glaſs-makers, and all handicraftſmen, whether dwelling in the city, or the iſlands; together with the ſea-faring people, and the gondoliers.

Venice, from the fertility of its neighbourhood, and the facility of carriage, enjoys a conſtant plenty of all kinds of proviſions. The ſpring-water being very indifferent, in moſt places, almoſt every houſe has a [186] ciſtern; into which the rain-water is conveyed, from the roof, and clarified, being filtrated through ſand. Water is alſo brought from the river Brenta, and pre⯑ſerved in the ciſterns.

From this general ſketch, we now proceed to a more particular deſcription. Venice is divided into ſix large parts, called Seſtierie; of which the three firſt lie on the eaſt, and north-eaſt ſide of the great canal; which, as we have before obſerved, divides the city into two main parts; and three others, on the weſt, and ſouth ſide.

The diſtrict of St. Mark contains the Piazza di S. Marco; which is one of the largeſt, and fineſt ſquares in Europe. This is the only ſpot that one can call terra firma, in the whole city. It is ſur⯑rounded with magnificent buildings; and divided into the leſſer, and greater ſquares. On each ſide of the large ſquare are, what they call, the procuraties; a pile of buildings, like our inns of court, and inhabited by lawyers; underneath which are piazzas, ſupported by marble pillars; where are coffee-houſes and taverns. At one end ſtands the church of St. Mark; and, ad⯑joining to it, is the leſſer ſquare; having, on one ſide, the ducal palace; and the new procuraties, on the other. The ſea waſhes the quay of this ſquare; which is built of large hewn ſtones, with ſeveral ſtairs; where [187] the gondolas land very conveniently. At the end of this leſſer ſquare, are erected two lofty pillars of gra⯑nite, or ſpeckled marble; which are ſaid to have been originally brought from Egypt to Conſtantinople; and removed from thence to Venice, in the time of the Doge Sebaſtiano Zani, about the year 1192. After they had lain a whole year on the ground, they were erected by N. Barratier; who deſired no other recompence for his trouble, than that any perſon might have free liberty to play at any game of chance, between theſe two pillars; all kinds of gaming being, at that time, prohibited. This requeſt was complied with; but the ſenate, at the ſame time, ordered that the execution of criminals ſhould, in future, likewiſe take place on that ſpot; and criminals, condemned to ſuffer death publicly, are ſtill executed between theſe pillars. On the pillar, that ſtands next to the ducal palace, is a braſs lion, being St. Mark's ſymbol, with its head to⯑wards the Eaſt, as an emblem of the republic's domi⯑nion over ſeveral places in the Levant. On the other ſide ſtands a marble ſtatue of S. Theodore; or, as others will have it, of St. George; who holds his ſhield in the right, inſtead of the left hand; which either proceeds from the ſculptor's miſtake; or, per⯑perhaps, it was copied from an intaglio. But the Ve⯑netians pretend it was done deſignedly, to expreſs the juſtice of the republic; which, ſay they, aims only at defending itſelf, without doing any hurt, or injury, to [188] other powers, A noble Venetian would not paſs be⯑tween theſe two pillars, upon any terms; becauſe, when the Doge Falieri, who was beheaded, in 1354, for treaſon againſt the ſtate, came to Venice, after his election, he was obliged to land between theſe two pil⯑lars, from the water being remarkably high. On the canal, oppoſite to theſe two pillars, a galley, com⯑pletely rigged and armed, is kept in readineſs for any emergency.

At the corner of the new procuratie, a little diſ⯑ance from the church, ſtands the ſteeple of St. Mark. This is a quadrangular tower, about three hundred feet in height. It is not uncommon in Italy for the church and ſteeple to be in this ſtate of diſ-union. This ſhocked a clergyman of my acquaintance very much, ſays Moore; he mentioned it to me, among the errors and abſurdities of the church of Rome. This gentleman was clearly of opinion that church and ſteeple ought to be as inſeparable as man and wife; and that every church ought to conſider its ſteeple as mortar of its mortar, and ſtone of its ſtone. An old captain of a ſhip, who was preſent, declared himſelf of the ſame way of thinking; and ſwore, that a church, divorced from its ſteeple, appeared to him as ridiculous as a ſhip without a maſt.

[189]The aſcent, to the top of this tower, is by ſteps; but ſo contrived that a perſon may ride up and down on horſe-back; which Auguſtus king of Poland once did, without meeting with any accident. On the top of it is a ſpire, with an angel ſixteen feet high, cut in wood, and gilt. This tower has a gallery, which is quiet open above, and affords a very fine proſpect. While the gilding of the ſpire is bright, it may be ſeen at ſea, upwards of thirty miles. Nay ſome give out, ſays Keyſler, that when the gilding was quite freſh, it could plainly be diſcerned off Capo d' Iſtria, at the diſtance of one hundred miles from Venice. What Sabelli further ſays, that the foundation of this tower is laid as deep in the earth, as it is high above the ſurface of it, may be looked upon as one of thoſe gaſconades, not uncommon among the Venetians.

At the bottom of this tower is a ſmall neat build⯑ing of marble, called the Loggietta, where ſome of the procurators of St. Mark conſtantly attend to do buſineſs. Some people are of opinion, that, parti⯑cularly when the grand council, or the ſenate, are aſſembled, theſe procurators are placed there, as ſtate-centinels, to give warning in caſe of any appearance of diſcontent, or commotion, among the populace; which muſt neceſſarily ſhew itſelf at this place, as there is no other in Venice, where a mob could aſſemble.

[190]A few paces from the church are three large poles, like the maſts of a ſhip, erected on braſs pe⯑deſtals of curious workmanſhip; on which enſigns, and flags are hung, on days of public rejoicing. Theſe are in memory of the three kingdoms, Cyprus, Can⯑dia, and Negropont, which once belonged to this republic; the three crowns are ſtill kept in the ducal palace. Since the kingdoms are gone, re⯑marks Moore, the crowns and the poles ſeem ſcarce worth preſerving; they are, however, of the ſame value to Venice, that the title of king of France is to his Britannic Majeſty.

The patriarchal church of St. Mark, though one of the richeſt, and moſt expenſive in the world, does not ſtrike the eye very much at firſt; the architecture is of a mixed kind, moſtly gothic, yet many of the pillars are of the Grecian order; the outſide is in⯑cruſted with marble; the inſide, ceiling and floor, are all of the fineſt marble.

The front, which looks to the palace, has five braſs gates, with hiſtorical bas-relieves; over the principal gate are placed the four famous bronze horſes, ſaid to be the workmanſhip of Lycippus; they were given to the Emperor Nero by Tiridates, king of Armenia; the fiery ſpirit of their countenances, and their ami⯑mated attitudes, are perfectly agreeable to their ori⯑ginal [191] deſtination of being harneſſed to the chariot of the Sun. Nero placed them on the triumphal arch conſecrated to him, and they are to be ſeen on the reverſe of ſome of his medals; they were removed from Rome, to Conſtantinople, placed in the Hip⯑podrome by Conſtantine, and remained there till the taking of Conſtantinople, by the French and Vene⯑tians, in the beginning of the thirteenth century; when they were carried to Venice, and placed in St. Mark's church.

The treaſury of St. Mark is very rich, in jewels and relics; and it is neceſſary to apply to one of the procurators of St. Mark, for permiſſion to ſee it. I ſhall only mention, ſays Moore, a few of the moſt valuable effects kept here. Eight pillars from Solo⯑mon's temple, at Jeruſalem; a piece of the Virgin Mary's veil, ſome of her hair, and a ſmall portion of her milk; the knife uſed by our Saviour, at his laſt ſupper; one of the nails of the croſs, and a few drops of his blood. After theſe, it would be impertinent to enumerate the bones, and other relics of ſaints and martyrs; of which there is a plentiful ſhow in this church; it would be unpardonable, however, to omit mentioning the picture of the Virgin, by St. Luke. From this, compared with his other works, ſays Moore, it is plain, that St. Luke was a much better Evangeliſt, than a painter; there are many very good [192] painters, who would have made very bad ſaints; and here is an inſtance of an excellent ſaint, who was but an indifferent painter.

The moſaic paintings, on the outſide of this church, ſays Mrs. Piozzi, which are ſurpaſſed by no works of art, delights us no leſs, on entering, with its number⯑leſs rarities. The flooring firſt catches the eye, being being entirely paved with precious ſtones, of the ſecond rank, in ſmall ſquares, not bigger than a playing card, and ſometimes leſs. By the ſecond rank in gems, I mean cornelian, agate, jaſper, ſer⯑pentine and verd-antique; on which we place our feet without remorſe; but not without a very odd ſenſation, when we find the ground undulated beneath them to repreſent the waves of the ſea, and perpe⯑tuate marine ideas, which prevail in every thing at Venice.

Of this treaſury it was ſaid, during the reign of Charles I. of Spain, that there was in it enough to pay ſix king's ranſoms; when Pachecho, the Spaniſh Ambaſſador hearing ſo much ſaid of it, aſked in de⯑riſion, if the cheſt, in which the treaſure is contained, had any bottom? and, being anſwered, in the affirma⯑tive, he replied, there was this difference, between his maſter's treaſures, and thoſe of the Venetian re⯑public, [193] that the mines of Mexico and Peru, had no bottom.

The church treaſury, this lady adds, is old faſhion⯑ed, but very rich, in gold and jewels. In it is kept a very famous manuſcript, of the goſpel of St. Mark, pretended to be autographical; but the dampneſs of the place, where it lies, has ſpoiled it to ſuch a de⯑gree, that no part of it is any longer legible; and it is not ſo much as certain whether it be written in Latin, or Greek. In the pavement of the portico of St. Marks is a ſmall morſel of porhyry, frequently kiſſed by the people, who hold it in the higheſt ve⯑neration; on this piece of marble, the Emperor Bar⯑baroſſa proſtrated himſelf at the Popes feet, in 1175, when his Holineſs gave him abſolution.

The Venetians have not only dedicated their fa⯑mous cathedral to St. Mark; but he is conſidered ſo much the tutelar Saint of this city, that it is fre⯑quently called St. Marco, in Italian, inſtead of Venice. Of this cuſtom of calling Venice St. Marco, Mrs. Piozzi relates a pleaſant anecdote, which we ſhall here inſert, leaving it, as ſhe does, to our readers to paſs over, or not, as they may think proper.

[194]The procurator Tron, a noble Venetian, it ſeems was at Padua, and had a fancy to drive on, that after⯑noon, to Vicenza; but, being particularly fond of a favourite pair of horſes, which drew his chariot that day, would by no means venture if it happened to rain; and took the trouble to enquire of Abbate Toaldo a celebrated profeſſor there, "whether he thought ſuch a thing likely to happen from the ap⯑pearance of the ſky? The profeſſor, not knowing why the queſtion was aſked, ſaid, he rather thought it would not rain within four hours at ſooneſt." In conſequence of this information, our ſenator orders his equipage directly, got into it, and bid the driver make haſte to Vicenza; but before he was half way on his journey, ſuch torrents of rain came down from a black cloud, which burſt directly over their heads, that his horſes were drenched in wet, and their mor⯑tified maſter turned immediately back to Padua, that they might ſuffer no further inconvenience. To paſs away the evening, which he did not mean to have ſpent there, and to quiet his agitated ſpirits, by thinking on ſomething elſe; he walked under the portico, to a neighbouring coffee-houſe, where ſate the Abbate Toaldo in company of a few friends; wholly unconſcious that he had been the cauſe of vexing the Procurator; who, after a ſhort pauſe, cried out, in a true Venetian ſpirit of anger, and humour odly bleaded together, "Mi dica Signor [195] Profeſſore Toaldo, chi è il più gran mincion de tutti i ſanti in Paradiſo?" Pray tell me Doctor, we ſhould ſay in Engliſh, who is the greateſt blockhead of all the Saints in Paradiſe? The Abbé looked aſtoniſhed, but hear⯑ing the queſtion repeated in a more peeviſh accent, gravely replyed, "Eccellenza non ſon fatto io per riſ⯑pondere a tale dimande."—"My Lord, I know not what reply to make to ſuch a queſtion." "Why then," re⯑plies the Procurator, "I will tell you myſelf. It is St. Mark, who is the greateſt blockhead, for keep⯑ing ſo many profeſſors to ſtudy the ſtars, when, with all their aſtronomy, not one of them can tell whether it will rain or no."

The church of the Redemtore is a curious inſtance of the power of art; for though it is not to be ranked among the rich, and expenſive churches, abounding neither in gold, or fine marbles, yet the ſimplicity and elegance of its ſtructure ſurprized us very much, the moment we entered the door; and convinced us how deſervedly Palladio is admired, and how poſ⯑ſible it is to enjoy the beauty of proportion and de⯑ſign, without having ſtudied the rudiments of the art.

The ducal palace is an immenſe building, entirely of marble. The front is very magnificent, being beautified with a great number of marble pillars of different orders. Did the other three ſides but corre⯑ſpond [196] with the principal front, there would not be a finer building in all Europe. Beſides the apartments of the Doge, there are alſo halls, and chambers for the ſenate, and all the different councils, and tribunals. The principal entrance is by a ſpacious ſtair-caſe, called the giants ſtair-caſe, on account of two coloſ⯑ſal ſtatues of Mars, and Neptune, placed at the top; they are of white marble, and intended to repreſent the naval and military power of the ſtate. Their gi⯑gantic ſize might be proper enough formerly, but they would be juſter emblems of this republic in its preſent ſtate, if their ſtature were more moderate.

Under the portico, leading to this ſtair-caſe, may be perceived the gaping mouths of lions, to receive anonymous letters, informations of treaſonable prac⯑tices, and accuſations of magiſtrates for abuſes in office.

From the palace, is a covered bridge of communi⯑cation to a ſtate-priſon, on the other ſide of the ca⯑nal. Priſoners paſs to, and from, the courts over this bridge, which is called Ponte di ſoſpiri, or bridge of ſighs.

The apartments, and halls of the ducal palace, are ornamented by the pencils of Titian, Paul Veroneſe, Tintoret, and other great painters. The rape of Eu⯑ropa, [197] and the ſtorming of Zara, both by Paul Vero⯑neſe, are among the highly eſteemed pieces of that maſter. The foot of Europa is honoured with the particular admiration of the connoiſſeurs.

Within the palace, there is a little arſenal, which communicates with the hall of the great council. Here a great number of muſkets are kept ready charged, with which the nobles may arm themſelves, on any ſudden inſurrection, or other emergency.

The lower gallery, or the piazza under the pa⯑lace, is called the Broglio. In this the noble Vene⯑tians walk and converſe; it is only here, and at council, where they have opportunities of meeting together; for they ſeldom viſit openly, or in a family way, at each others houſes, and ſecret meetings would give umbrage to the ſtate-inquiſitors; they chuſe therefore to tranſact their buſineſs on this public walk. People of inferior rank ſeldom remain on the Broglio, for any length of time, when the nobility are there.

Beſides St. Mark's place, there is not another ſquare, or place, as the French with more propriety call them, in all Venice. To compenſate, however, for there being but one, there is a greater variety of objects to be ſeen at this one, than in any half-dozen [198] of ſquares, or places, of London or Paris. This ſquare, obſerves Lady Millar, is particularly agreeable to walk in by night; the lights in the coffee-houſes, illuminating the piazza, render it extremely chearful; and the concourſe of people, reſorting hither, to breathe the cool air, is ſo conſiderable as to fill the whole ſquare. The little ſtreets, leading from it, are well furniſhed with elegant ſhops; which make the moſt brilliant appearance, from the curious arrange⯑ment of their articles; and appear far exceeding the coup d'oeil of the foire S. Germain at Paris. The ſtreet of the ſilverſmiths makes a ſplendid ſhew, there being no other ſort of ſhops in it. That of the milliners and mercers is like a parterre of flowers; the goods of the moſt glaring colours being ingeniouſly mixed, in ſuch a manner in the windows, as to produce a ſtrik⯑ing effect. Other ſtreets conſiſt ſolely of poulterers, and, ſome, of green-grocers' ſhops; theſe laſt are decked out in ſuch a manner as diſcovers ſurprizing taſte in the common people.

In the evening, ſays Moore, there generally is here ſuch a mixture of Jews, Turks, and Chriſtians; law⯑yers, knaves, and pickpockets; mountebanks, old women, and phyſicians; women of quality with maſks; ſtrumpets barefaced; and, in ſhort, ſuch a jumble of ſenators, citizens, gondoliers, and people of every character and condition; that our ideas are [199] broken, and disjointed in the croud, in ſuch a man⯑ner, that one can think, or reffect on nothing; yet, this being a ſtate of mind which many people are fond of, the place never fails to be well attended; and, in fine weather, numbers paſs a great part of the night there. Although ſuch a heterogeneous mixture of people throng the place, both day and night, yet there is no riot or diſturbance. The Venetians are ſo ac⯑cuſtomed to ſee ſtrangers, as not to be the leaſt ſur⯑prized at their being dreſſed in a faſhion different from themſelves; nor inclined to eſteem them objects of ridicule, on account of their not ſpeaking the Ita⯑lian language. As it is the cuſtom for the ladies, as well as the gentlemen, to frequent the caſſinos, and coffee-houſes, in the place St. Mark, it anſwers all the purpoſes of either Vauxhall or Ranelagh.

It is not in St. Mark's place we are to look for the fineſt monuments of the art of Titian, or the genius of Palladio; for theſe it is neceſſary to viſit the churches and palaces; but, not pretending, ſays Moore, to be a competent judge of painting and architecture, I have no new remarks to make on theſe ſubjects; and I wiſh to avoid a hackneyed repetition of what has been ſaid by others. I was, beſides, long ago taught a leſſon, which will effectually prevent me from every affec⯑tation of this kind.

[200]Very early in life, ſays our author, I reſided about a year in Paris; and happened, one day, to accom⯑pany five or ſix of our countrymen, to view the pic⯑tures in the Palais Royal. A gentleman, who af⯑fected an enthuſiaſtic paſſion for the fine arts, parti⯑cularly that of painting, and who had the greateſt deſire to be thought a connoiſſeur, was of the party. He had read the lives of the painters, and had the Voyage Pittoreſque de Paris by heart. From the moment we entered the rooms, he began to diſplay all the refine⯑ments of his taſte; he inſtructed us what to admire, and drew us away, with every ſign of diſguſt, when we ſtopped a moment at an uncelebrated picture. We were afraid of appearing pleaſed with any thing we ſaw, till he informed us whether or not it was worth looking at. He ſhook his head at ſome, toſſed up his noſe at others; commended a few, and paſſed ſentence on every piece as he went along, with the moſt im⯑poſing tone of ſagacity. "Bad, that Caravaggio is too bad indeed, devoid of all grace;—but here's a Ca⯑racci that makes amends; how charming the grief of that Magdalen! The Virgin, you'll obſerve, gentle⯑men, is only fainting, but the Chriſt is quite dead. Look at the arm, did you ever ſee any thing ſo dead?— Aye, here's a Madona, which they tell you is an ori⯑ginal Guido; but any body may ſee it is only a to⯑lerable copy.—Pray, gentlemen, obſerve this Sebaſ⯑tian, how delightfully he expires! Don't you all feel [201] the arrow in your hearts? I'm ſure I feel it in mine. Do let us move on; I ſhould die with agony, if I looked any longer."

We at length came to St. John, by Raphael; and here this man of taſte ſtopped ſhort, in an extacy of admiration.—One of the company had already paſſed it, without minding it, and was looking on another picture; on which the connoiſſeur bawled out—"Good God, Sir! what are you about?" The honeſt gentle⯑man ſtarted, and ſtared around, to know what crime he had been guilty of.

"Have you eyes in your head, Sir?" continued the connoiſſeur? "Don't you know St. John when you ſee him?"

"St. John!" replied the other in amazement. "Aye Sir, St. John the Baptiſt, in propria perſona.

"I don't know what you mean, Sir," ſaid the gen⯑tleman, peeviſhly.

"Don't you," rejoined the connoiſſeur; "Then "I'll endeavour to explain myſelf. I mean St. John in the wilderneſs, by the divine Raffaelle Sangio da Urbino; and there he ſtands, by your ſide.—Pray, my dear Sir, will you be ſo obliging to beſtow a little [202] of your attention on that foot? Does it not ſtart from the wall? Is it not perfectly out of the frame? Did you ever ſee ſuch colouring? They talk of Titian; can Titian's colouring excel that? What truth, what ntaure in the head! To the elegance of antique, here is joined the ſimplicity of nature."

We ſtood liſtening, in ſilent admiration, and began to imagine we pecreived all the perfections he enu⯑merated; when a perſon, in the Duke of Orlean's ſervice, came and informed us, that the original, which he preſumed was the picture we wiſhed to ſee, was in another room; the Duke having allowed a painter to copy it. That, which we had been looking at, was a very wretched daubing; done from the ori⯑ginal, by ſome obſcure painter, and had been thrown, with other rubbiſh, into a corner; where the Swiſs had accidentally diſcovered it, and had hung it up, merely by way of covering the vacant place on the wall, till the other ſhould be re-placed.

How the connoiſſeur looked, on this trying occa⯑ſion, I cannot ſay. It would have been barbarous to have turned an eye upon him.—I ſtepped into the next room, fully determined to be cautious in deciding on the merit of painting.

[203]Over againſt the ducal palace ſtands the public li⯑brary of the republic. The poet Petrarch firſt begun this collection, by giving his library to the ſtate; upon condition that a decent edifice ſhould be built, for its reception, at the public expence. After him, Cardi⯑nal Baſſarion added his curious collection of Greek manuſcripts. Several other conſiderable additions have ſince been made to this library.

The paintings by Titian, and ſeveral other cele⯑brated maſters, together with ſeveral antiquities, and Greek and marble ſtatue, which are to be ſeen here, merit particular notice. Among the latter, the moſt ſtriking is the rape of Ganymede, by Jupiter, in the ſhape of an eagle; which ſome take to be the work of Phidias. A Venus and Apollo, two gladiators, Leda, Paris, and ſeveral buſts of the Roman emperors, are alſo exquiſitely done. On each ſide, of the princi⯑pal entrance, inſtead of a pillar, is a marble ſtatue of a female; and theſe ſtatues ſupport the ornaments above.

The arſenal at Venice is a fortification, of between two and three miles in compaſs. On the ramparts are many little watch-towers, where centinels are ſtationed. Like the arſenal at Toulon, it is at once a dock-yard, and a repoſitory for military ſtores. Here the Vene⯑tians build their ſhips, caſt their cannon, make their [204] cables, ſails, anchors, &c. The arms are arranged here, as in other places of the ſame kind, in large rooms, divided into narrow walks, by long walls of muſkets, pikes, and halberts.

In one of the docks is kept the Bucentaur, or veſſel the Doge is carried in, to eſpouſe the Adriatic. This veſſel is kept under cover, and never taken out, but for the eſpouſals. It is formed for containing a very numerous company, is finely gilt and ornamented within; and loaded, on the outſide, with emblematical figures in ſculpture. This veſſel may, poſſibly, be ad⯑mired by landſmen, but will not much charm a ſea⯑man's eye; being a heavy broad-bottomed machine, which draws little water; and, conſequently, may be eaſily overſet in a gale of wind. Of this, how⯑ever, there is no great danger, as two precautions are taken to prevent ſuch an accident; one of which ſeems calculated to quiet the minds of believers; and the other to give confidence to the moſt credulous. The firſt is uſed by the Patriarch; who, as ſoon as the veſſel is afloat, takes care to pour into the ſea ſome holy-water, which is believed to have the virtue of preventing, or allaying ſtorms. The ſecond is en⯑truſted to the admiral; who has the diſcretionary power of poſtponing the marriage-ceremony, when the bride ſeems in the ſmalleſt degree boiſterous. [205] One of the virtues of the holy-water, that of allay⯑ing ſtorms, is, by this means, rendered ſuperfluous.

But, when the weather is quite favourable, the ceremony is performed every Aſcenſion-day. The ſolemnity is announced in the morning, by the ring⯑ing of bells, and firing of cannon. About mid-day the Doge, attended by a numerous party of the ſenate and clergy, goes on board the Bucentaur; the veſſel is rowed a little way into the ſea, accompanied by the ſplendid yachts of the foreign ambaſſadors, the gondolas of the Venetian nobility, and an incredible number of barks and gallies of every kind. Hymns are ſung, and a band of muſic performs, while the Bu⯑centaur, and her attendants, ſlowly move towards St. Lido, a ſmall iſland, two miles from Venice. Prayers are then ſaid; after which the Doge drops a ring, of no great value, into the ſea, pronouncing theſe words — Deſponſamus te, mare, in ſignum veri perpetuique dominii. He then returns, in the ſame ſtate, inviting thoſe who accompany him in the galley to dinner.

This veſſel, remarks Mr. Piozzi, is called the identical one, in which Pope Alexander performed the original ceremony, ſo far back as the year 1171; and though, perhaps, not a whole plank, of that old galley, can be now remaining in this, ſo often careened, re⯑paired, [206] and adorned, ſince that time. I ſee nothing ridiculous, ſhe adds, in declaring that it is the ſame ſhip; any more than in ſaying that the oak, planted an acorn, thirty years ago, is the ſame tree I ſaw ſpring up then a little twig, which not even a moderate ſceptic will deny; though he takes ſo much pains to perſuade plain folks out of their own exiſtence, by laughing us out of the dull notion, that he, who dies a withered old fellow at fourſcore, ſhould ever be conſidered as the ſame perſon, whom his mother brought forth, a pretty little plump baby, eight years before.

It would be endleſs to deſcribe the great number of palaces in this city; but we may, in general, ob⯑ſerve that, with reſpect to architecture, thoſe built by Palladio, and other celebrated architects, are in a ſtile quite different from the Roman, or the Florentine; both in the ornaments on the front, and the diſpoſition of the apartments within. The windows are, gene⯑rally, four ſquares in height, arched at the top, and reaching quite to the floor; with balconies before them, through the lower part of the window; all the parts of which are made to open, from bottom to top, for letting in the air in hot weather. The middle of the front is, almoſt, entirely compoſed of windows, for enlightening a long portico, or gallery, that paſſes through the houſe, in every ſtory; and out of this [207] gallery is the entrance into the apartments, on each hand. The moſt magnificent are, generally, up two pair of ſtairs; they have, ſometimes, a ſtory of high apartments, and another of, what they call, mezzanine, or low ones, alternate; the former for ſtate, the latter for the uſe of the family.

The floors, are, generally, of a red plaiſter; com⯑poſed of pulverized marble and bricks, mixed with oil; it makes a beautiful appearance, and is very laſting. The chambers of the grand floor are ſeldom uſed for any other purpoſe, than as lumber-rooms. Some⯑times, indeed, they are decorated with ſtatues; or with arms and trophies, where the maſter of the houſe has been a military man; and, in ſome, the chambers are full of inſcriptions, antique marbles, and other cu⯑rioſities of the like kind.

The roofs of the houſes, in Venice, are flat, and covered with tiles.

Venice, with a few alterations, remarks Sharpe, would be much more magnificent than it is at preſent: The windows, inſtead of ſaſhes, are ſtill, as in other parts of Italy, made of ſmall panes of glaſs, encloſed in lead; and, what has a ſtill meaner appearance, co⯑vered with iron grates, reſembling thoſe in priſons. The ſhutters of their houſes are plain deal boards, [208] tacked together, without the leaſt form or decoration, and not painted, as in England; ſo that when a pa⯑lace is ſhut up, it has very much the reſemblance of a bridewell, or an hoſpital for lunatics. They like⯑wiſe lay on the roofs of their houſes ſuch heavy, clumſy tiles, as to offend the eye very much. Houſe-rent is remarkably cheap, for ſo large, and commercial a city; a houſe of ſeventy pounds a year, being equal to one of two hundred a year in other capitals.

The palaces are, in general, furniſhed with velvet and damaſk, fringed, or laced with gold. The doors, ſkirting-boards, and wainſcotting, are painted in a moſt elegant manner; with pale tints for the ground, and prettily ornamented with curious devices, feſtoons, fruits, &c. They alſo paint in freſco, on the walls, with much facility and taſte. This is to be met with in the pooreſt houſes; and, where they do not go to the expence of painting the walls, their white-waſh is of uncommon neatneſs: it is gloſſy, of a ſoft colour, and never comes off.

There are ſome good pictures in the palaces, but not ſuch capital collections as are to be ſeen at Rome, and Genoa. The Venetians, remarks Lady Millar, cover the walls of their palaces with pictures, and never think thoſe apartments properly furniſhed, un⯑til they have ſuch as fill all the ſpaces from top to [209] bottom, ſo is completely to hide the hanging. This being their object, there are in all the collections ma⯑ny more bad pictures than good; and on entering a room, the number of paintings is ſo great, that it is not till after ſome recollection one can diſcriminate thoſe pictures, that merit attention, from amongſt a chaos of glowing colours that ſurround them; and which are frequently ſo ill claſſed, that a picture which requires to be hung high, is, perhaps, the loweſt in the room; whilſt another that cannot be ſeen too cloſe, perhaps, touches the cornice.

Keyſler mentions the palace Grimaldi, as one of the moſt elegant for its architecture, furniture, and curioſities, both modern and antique. In the palace Barberigo is a weeping Magdalen, by Titian; for which the King of France is ſaid to have offered forty thouſand crowns. This celebrated painter was deſ⯑cended from a noble family, though in mean circum⯑ſtances, and was born at Cadore, on the banks of the river Piave, in 1477 and died at Venice of the plague, in the year 1576 and the ninety-ninth of his age.

One of the ſingularities of this ſingular city, ſays Martyn, is its conſervatories, or muſical ſchools for in⯑ſtructing young women in muſic: of theſe there are four; and, at each of them, they perform oratorios, [210] and other pieces of ſacred muſic, every Saturday, and and Sunday evening; and on other feſtivals, in their convents. Indeed ſuch is, and ſuch has been, the rage for muſic throughout Italy, that improvements, in this ſcience, have been equally encouraged by the ſeveral ſtates, as improvements in policy or arts. Early as the 13th century, Guido Aretinus, a Benedictine Monk, having reformed the ſcale of muſic, and invented a new method of notation, was invited, by Pope John, XX. to Rome; his improvements were patronized, and the Pope became his diſciple.

I was preſent, ſays Lady Millar, in the church, when there was ſome very good muſic, both vocal and inſtrumental; performed by the women of one of theſe charities. The gallery, having a lattice be⯑fore it, we could not diſtinguiſh the performers; I therefore begged to be permitted to go into it, and ſee, as well as hear, the concert: my requeſt was granted; but when I entered, my eyes were ſtruck with the ſight of a dozen, or fourteen beldams, ugly and old; one blowing a french-horn; another ſweat⯑ing at the baſs-viol; another playing firſt fiddle, and beating time with her foot, in the greateſt rage; others performing on baſſoons, hautboys, and clarinets; theſe, with ſeveral young girls who formed the choir, and one who played upon the organ, compoſed the concert; but, ſuch a concert as I ſhall never forget.

[211]About a mile from Venice, in the iſland of Mu⯑rano, are the great manufactories of looking-glaſſes. I ſaw one very fine plate for a mirror, ſays Moore, made in the preſence of the archduke, in a few mi⯑nutes. Though not ſo large as ſome of the Paris ma⯑nufactory, yet it was much larger than I could have thought it in the power of human lungs to blow. In⯑ſtead of being caſt, as in France and England, the Murano mirrors are all blown in the manner of bot⯑tles. It is aſtoniſhing to ſee with what dexterity the the workman wields a long hollow cylinder of melted glaſs at the end of an iron tube; which, when he has extended as much as poſſible, by blowing, and every other means his art ſuggeſts, he ſlits with a ſharp in⯑ſtrument; removing the two extremities from each other, and folding back the ſides: the cylinder now appears a large ſheet of glaſs; which, being once more introduced into the furnace, is brought out a clear finiſhed plate.

This manufactory formerly ſerved all Europe with looking-glaſſes; the quantity made here is ſtill con⯑ſiderable; for although France and England, and ſome other countries, which ſtill get their mirrors from Venice, uſe a much greater quantity now, than for⯑merly; ſo that, on the ſuppoſition that the Murano manufacturers have loſt three-fourths of their cuſ⯑tomers, [212] they may ſtill retain half as much trade as ever they had.

It is ſurprizing that, inſtead of blowing, they do not adopt the method of caſting; which is a much eaſier proceſs, and, by which larger plates may be made. Beſides mirrors, an infinite quantity of glaſs trinkets, (Margaritini, as they are called) of all ſhapes and co⯑lours, are made here. Women, of the inferior ranks, wear them as ornaments, and roſaries; they alſo mould this ſubſtance into many various, whimſical forms, by way of ornamental furniture to houſes and churches. In ſhort, there are glaſs baubles enough made here, to bribe into ſlavery half the inhabitants of the coaſt of Guinea.

CHAP. III. Of the other Cities in Venetian Lombardy.

PADUA, next in fame to Venice, may be com⯑pared to the ſecond-rate cities in France, or England. Its ſtreets are lined with two rows of pi⯑azzas, beſides ſeveral canals of clear running water, [213] admirably contrived for the convenience of manu⯑facturers. Its ſituation is delightful; yet it is ſo badly peopled, that, deprived of its monaſteries, pre⯑bends, ſeminary, and what few ſcholars its univerſity ſtill draws thither, ſcarce a ſoul would be left. The Paduans boaſt that the republic of Venice owes its origin, and riſe, to their city; but it is now ſome centuries ſince Padua has been brought under the Venetian yoke; which has occaſioned it to decline ſo much, from its former ſplendor, that at preſent, it ſcarce contains forty thouſand inhabitants.

The principal objects of curioſity in this city are, the churches of St. Antonio, and St. Giuſtina; Il Salone; the buildings of the univerſity, by Palladio; the bo⯑tanic and economical gardens; and the Muſeum.

The church of St. Antonio, is a large Gothic building, begun in 1255, and finiſhed, in 1307; it has ſix domes, or cupolas, of which the two largeſt compoſe the nave. It is extremely rich, and ſo much ornamented, as to appear crowded with paint⯑ing and ſculpture. There are four immenſe organs in it; and, even on common days, forty performers are employed in the ſervice.

The body of the Saint, is incloſed in a ſarcopha⯑gus, under an altar in the middle of the chapel, and [214] is ſaid to emit a very agreeable and refreſhing ſmell. Pious catholics believe this to be the natural effluvia of the ſaint's body; while heretics aſſert that the perfume (for a perfume there certainly is) proceeds from cer⯑tain balſams rubbed on the marble every morning, before the votaries come to pay their devotions.

The walls of this church are covered with votive offerings of ears, eyes, arms, legs, noſes, and every part almoſt of the human body; in token of cures performed by this ſaint; for whatever part has been the ſeat of the diſeaſe, a repreſentation of it is hung up in ſilver, or gold, according to the gratitude and wealth of the patient.

At a ſmall diſtance from this church, is a place called the ſchool of St. Antonio. Here many of his actions are painted in freſco; ſome of them by Ti⯑tian. Many miracles, of a very extraordinary na⯑ture, are here recorded. There is one in particular, which, if often repeated, might endanger the peace of families. The ſaint thought proper to looſen the tongue of a new-born infant, and endue it with the faculty of ſpeech; on which the child, with an impru⯑dence natural to his age, declared, in an audible voice, before a large company, who was his real fa⯑ther. The miracles attributed to this celebrated ſaint, greatly exceed in number, thoſe recorded by the [215] Evangeliſts of our Saviour; and, although it is not aſſerted that St. Antonio has not raiſed himſelf from the dead, his admirers here record things of him, which are almoſt equivalent. When an im⯑pious Turk had ſecretly placed fire-works under the chapel, with an intention to blow it up, they affirm that St. Antonio hollowed three times from his marble coffin, which terrified the infidel, and diſcovered the plot. The miracle is the more miraculous, as the ſaint's tongue was cut out, and is actually preſerved in a cryſtal veſſel, and ſhewn as a precious relic to all who have a curioſity to ſee it. This difficulty was ſtated as ſeeming to bear a little againſt the au⯑thority of the miracle; and the ingenious perſon, to whom the objection was made, ſeemed at firſt ſome⯑what nonpluſſed; but, after recollecting himſelf, ob⯑ſerved that this which ſeemed an objection, was really a confirmation of the fact; for the ſaint was not ſaid to have ſpoken, but only to have hollowed, which a man can do without a tongue; but if his tongue had not been out, added he, there is no reaſon to doubt but that the ſaint would have revealed the Turkiſh plot in plain, articulate language.

In this Church is a monument of the famous Car⯑dinal Bembo, who was a man of great learning, and wrote very pure, claſſic Latin; it is ſaid he was ſo proud of his elegant, Latin ſtile, that he would often [216] ſay, he would not exchange it for the duchy of Man⯑tua. He is charged with having diſſuaded a friend from reading St. Paul's epiſtles, and with never looking into the Bible, or breviary, for fear of cor⯑rupting the purity of his Latin ſtile.

The next Church, in point of rank, but far ſupe⯑rior in architecture, is that of St. Juſtina, built from a deſign of Palladio, and reckoned by many perſons one of the moſt elegant he ever gave; St. Juſtina is ſaid to have ſuffered martyrdom, where the church was built, which was the reaſon of erecting it on that ſpot. It would have been fortunate for the pictures in this church, if the ſaint had ſuffered on a piece of dryer ground; for they ſeem conſiderably injured by the damps, which ſurround the place where it now ſtands. There is a wide area, in the front of the church, called the Prato della valle; where booths, and ſhops, are erected for all kinds of merchandize, during the fairs. Part of this, which is never allowed to be profaned by the buyers and ſellers, is called Campo ſanto; becauſe a great number of Chriſtian martyrs is ſaid to have been put to death there.

St. Juſtina's church is adorned with many altars, embelliſhed with ſculpture. The pavement is re⯑markably rich, being a kind of moſaic work of marble, of various colours. Many other precious materials [217] are wrought as ornaments to this church; but there is one ſpecies of jewels, in which it abounds, more than, perhaps, any church in chriſtendom; which is the bones of martyrs. They have here a whole well full, belonging to thoſe who were executed in the Prato della valle; and what is of ſtill greater value, the Benedictines, to whom this church belongs, aſſert, that they are alſo in poſſeſſion of the bodies of the two Evangeliſts, St. Matthew, and St. Luke. The Franciſcans, belonging to a convent at Venice, diſ⯑pute the ſecond of thoſe two great prizes; and de⯑clare that they are poſſeſſed of the true body of St. Luke. The matter was referred to the Pope, who gave a deciſion in favour of one of the bodies; but this does not prevent the proprietors of the other from ſtill perſiſting in their original claim; ſo that there is no likelihood of the diſpute being finally de⯑termined, till the day of judgment.

The hall of the town-houſe, in Padua; it is about three hundred Engliſh feet long, by one hundred in breadth. Weſtminſter-hall, which, like this, is ſaid to be the largeſt room, unſupported by pillars in Eu⯑rope, is only two hundred and ſeventy feet in length, and ſeventy-four in breadth. This immenſe hall is on the ſecond floor, and ornamented with the buſts, and ſtatues, of ſome eminent perſons. The cenotaph [218] of Livy, the hiſtorian, who was a native of Padua, was erected here.

In this hall is to be ſeen a ſtone, ſuperſcribed with the following words: ‘Lapis vituperii & ceſſionis bonorum.’ ‘"The ſtone of ignominy, and bankruptcy".’

Such as become bankrupt, and are unable to pay their debts, by ſitting publickly three times, with their bare poſteriors on this ſtone, and ſwearing that it is not in their power to diſcharge their debts, are cleared from any further proſecution from their cre⯑ditors.

The univerſity, formerly ſo celebrated, is now like every thing elſe in this city, on the decline; the the⯑atre for anatomy could contain five or ſix hundred ſtudents; but the voice of the profeſſor is like that of him who crieth in the wilderneſs. The licentious ſpirit of the ſtudents, which formerly was carried ſuch unwarrantable lengths, and made it dangerous to walk in the ſtreets of this city at night, is now en⯑tirely extinct; it has gradually declined with the number of the ſtudents. Whether the ardour for literature, for which the ſtudents of this univerſity [219] were diſtinguiſhed, has abated in the ſame proportion, we do not pretend to determine; but by far the greater number of young men, who now attend the univerſity, are deſigned for the prieſthood, and apply to the ſtudy of divinity as a ſcience, for comprehend⯑ing and preaching the myſterious parts of which, a very ſmall portion of learning has been obſerved to ſucceed, better than a great deal.

There is a cloth-manufactory in this city, and it is ſaid that the inhabitants of Venice, not excepting the nobles, wear no other cloth than what is made here. This particular manufactory, it therefore may be ſuppoſed, ſucceeds very well; but the exceſſive number of beggars, with which this place ſwarms, is a ſtrong proof that trade and manufactures, in general, are by no means in a flouriſhing condition.

The air of Padua is reckoned very healthful. How⯑ever few cities have ſo many apothecaries, in pro⯑portion to the number of inhabitants; but it muſt be obſerved, that moſt of theſe venders of medicines are alſo confectioners. Great quantities of vipers are collected here; ſome of which are kept alive for va⯑rious uſes, and others dried and made into powder, which is ſuppoſed to be of great efficacy in medicine. They feed the fowls, ſays Keyſler, with vipers, and meal at Naples; where they are alſo adminiſtered [220] to patients, as well as the broth made of theſe ani⯑mals. The beſt way of feeding fowls, is to cram them with a paſte made with viper powder, and bar⯑ley meal, and then to give them milk to drink. Of theſe fowls the Neapolitans makes a jelly, and give it to conſumptive patients, and order them to continue drinking it for ſome weeks. This puts me in mind, adds the above writer, of Sir Kenelm Digby, an Engliſh virtuoſo, who uſed to feaſt his wife, who was a very beautiful lady, with capons, fattened with vipers fleſh; but he did not long enjoy his pampered idol, for ſhe died very young.

The territory of Padua is very ſubject to ſtorms; particularly thoſe which come from the ſea, and which are extremely violent.

For the honour of the muſes, and the edification of the ſtudents, it ſeems the Donne libere, or Donne dèl mondo, as they are called, are publickly tolerated at Padua. Theſe ladies have their reſpective dwellings appointed them, where they live together, ſix or eight in a claſs, and offer themſelves to the ſervice of the public. That ſo commendable an inſtitution may not be liable to any objection, it is the peculiar office of ſeveral phyſicians, frequently, and ſtrictly to examine theſe nymphs, that no bad conſequences may hap⯑pen to thoſe who converſe with them. Of theſe [221] public temples of Venus, there are two in the city of Padua; and, what ſeems ſomething out of character, one joins to a convent of monks, and the other to a nunnery.

The Jews have alſo their particular quarter al⯑lotted to them, at Padua, out of which they are not permitted to ſtir.

Vicenza, about 18 miles diſtant from the above city, is charmingly ſituated, between two mountains, on a large plain: though but four miles round, it contains between thirty and forty thouſand inhabitants. The territory belonging to this city, on account of its fer⯑tility, is generally called the garden, and ſhambles, of Venice. This city is the native place of Palladio; and the beſt works, of this celebrated architect con⯑ſtitute the chief ornament of the city. Though this city is of no very great extent, it is ſuppoſed there are in it above 60 churches, convents and hoſpitals.

The Teatro Olympico is one of the fineſt ſpecimens of modern architecture: it was begun early in 1588, the very year that Palladio died. The houſe, in which the architect lived, was built by himſelf; and is no leſs modeſt than elegant. In the environs of this city may be ſeen the Marquis of Capra's famous rotunda, copied by the Earl of Burlington, at Chiſwick; and [222] which was built by Palladio. He was acceſſary to the ruin of many great families at Vicenza, by draw⯑ing them into a taſte for architecture. It is aſſerted there, that it was done from a motive of revenge, for having impriſoned his ſon; who was an extravagant ſpend thrift, during the father's abſence from Vicenza; who, on his return, gave them plans, and falſe eſti⯑mates, to induce them to begin, upon what he knew they could never finiſh.

The piazza, or great ſquare of this city, makes a very noble appearance; being filled with elegant, and beautiful buildings, by this great architect.

There is in this city an academy, or literary ſoci⯑ety, ſtiled the Olympici; whoſe deſign is chiefly the im⯑provement of the Italian language. The academi⯑cians hold their meetings in the Teatro Olympico; which is ſeldom uſed as a theatre. The perſpective of the ſtage, in this theatre, is admirable; and is de⯑corated with ſtatues of the Roman emperors, and philoſophers. The parterre, or pit, is likewiſe adorned with ſeveral ſtatues; and the ſeats are diſpoſed after the manner of the ancient amphitheatres.

In the campus martius, without the city, is a trium⯑phal arch, built from a deſign of the above-mentioned [223] Palladio, in imitation of the ancient ſtructures of that kind.

The fineſt garden at Vicenza is that of the Count Valmanara; which, for its ſituation, hedges, viſtas, ar⯑bours, and beautiful walks, may be reckoned one of the nobleſt in Italy. A covered walk of cedar and orange trees, placed alternately, and above 200 paces in length, is particularly admired. On one ſide of it is a broad canal, well ſtocked with fiſh; which, at the the ſound of a pipe, immediately appear in great num⯑bers, on the ſurface, in order to be fed. Over the entrance into the garden is the following ſingular in⯑ſcription, in Latin.

"If corrodoing cares have haply followed thee thus far, though they be loth to leave thee, diſpel and ba⯑niſh them away. This place is more peculiarly dedi⯑cated to genial mirth and feſtivity. Whoever ſhall damage theſe cedars, or crop a flower, let him be ac⯑counted as a ſacrilegious perſon, and be puniſhed; to appeaſe Vertumnus and Pomona, to whom they are conſecrated.

"Native, friend, or ſtranger, who deſireſt to amuſe thyſelf with the rural charms of this place, thou mayeſt ſecurely enter theſe gardens, deſigned for pleaſure and recreation. Here is no fierce dog, no frightful dra⯑gon, [224] no deity with his threatening weapon; but every thing is here freely, and without danger, expoſed to thy view. Such is the pleaſure of Count Leonardo Valmanara, owner of the gardens, who relies on thy modeſty and good breeding, as ſufficient to protect the place from any outrage."

This country produces great plenty of excellent wine; particularly celebrated for its lenient qualities, in fits of the gout.

The inhabitants of Vicenza are charged with being of a more vindictive temper, than the reſt of the Ita⯑lians; on which account they are commonly called Gli Aſſaſſini Vicentini, or, Vicentian aſſaſſins. This is certain, that travellers, and eſpecially the Germans, who have the character of being hot and quarrelſome, ſhould be very careful, in every part of Italy, to avoid diſputes; and eſpecially with poſtillions, and perſons of the lower claſs; for the deſire of revenge, in them, is ſo predominant, that they have been known to fol⯑low a traveller ſix or ſeven ſtages, to watch an oppor⯑tunity of gratifying this paſſion.

Murder is looked upon in Italy in a very different light, to what it is in other countries. If a robbery has been committed, in any of the towns of Italy, and the populace is alarmed to ſtop the thief, there is always [225] aſſiſtance at hand to purſue the criminal; but, on cry⯑ing after a murderer, no perſon offers to ſtir; and the aſſaſſin ſaves himſelf by flying, unmoleſted, to a church or convent; where, to the great diſgrace of the clergy, the villain receives all poſſible aſſiſtance, that he may eſcape the hands of the civil power.

The meaneſt citizen of Vicenza, in ſigning contracts, or other deeds, adds to his name the title of Comte Vicentino, or, Count of Vicenza; an empty piece of pride, which they derive from an anſwer, as is pre⯑tended, given by Charles V. who, when he was at Vi⯑cenza, to get rid of the importunate ſolicitations of ſeveral of the rich citizens, to be made Counts, ſaid, in jeſt, Todos Contes; "I make you all counts."

Verona has been celebrated in the following diſtich:

‘"Verona ſurpaſſes all the cities of Italy for ſuperb buildings, the genius of its inhabitants, its rivers, its fountain, and its lake.’

However, as to beauty, it will not bear a compari⯑ſon with many of the large cities, in the ſouthern parts of Italy. Moſt of the ſtreets of Verona are narrow, [226] winding, and dirty; and the houſes meanly built. The river Adige divides Verona into almoſt two equal parts; joined together by four ſtone-bridges. The number of inhabitants is, at preſent, computed to be under 50,000; whereas, a century ago, they exceeded 70,000. The beſt ſtreet in the city is Il Curſo; where the carnival amuſements conclude, with foot-races.

In the town-houſe the ſtatues of ſix celebrated per⯑ſons, who were natives of Verona, are erected. Theſe are the poets Catullus, Aemilius, Aemilius Marcus, Cor⯑nelius Nepos, Pliny the elder, and the architect Vitru⯑truvius, who lived in the reign of Auguſtus.

The chief magiſtrates, by whom the Venetians go⯑vern this province, are the Podeſta and the General. All civil affairs are under the direction of the former; and the latter has the care of the military. Both theſe continue in office no longer than 16 months.

Among the private buildings in this city, the palace of Count Maffei is the moſt ſplendid and magnificent. The great glory of Verona is in its ancient amphi⯑theatre; the arena and inſide of which are perfect. It has 46 rows of ſeats; and is calculated to hold near 24,000 people. When the Emperor was at Ve⯑rona, [227] there were no leſs than 40,000 people crouded into it.

This celebrated amphitheatre, through a ſucceſſion of ſo many centuries, has, by the commendable care, and attention of the inhabitants, been kept in ſuch good repair, that, in this reſpect, it is far preferable to, though not ſo large as, Veſpaſian's theatre at Rome.

Near the amphitheatre is a muſeum, or, collection of rarities and antiques; ſome of which are very cu⯑rious, and merit a particular examination. In this building is a kind of public room, for converſation and cards; where the people of faſhion, in Verona, meet every evening. There is ſcarcely a ſmall town in Italy, that has not ſomething of this kind. Were a plan of this ſort adopted in ſome of the country towns in England, it might be productive of more ſo⯑ciety, and rational amuſement, than continually dining about, with country neighbours, and receiving viſitors, ſome of whom are not very agreeable.

The chief commodities, that the Veroneſe trade in, are phyſical plants, oil, wine, with manufactures of linen, ſilk, and woollen. The goodneſs of the Ve⯑rona wine is mentioned by Pliny, Virgil, and Caſſio⯑dorus. The wines here have ſomething of the flavour of the old Hungarian wines.

[228]The Veroneſe women are well ſhaped, and of a freſh complection; for which they are unqueſtionably obliged to the goodneſs of the air. The neighbour⯑ing mountains conſtantly refreſh this city, during the heats of ſummer, with a cool evening breeze. And though the orange-trees are not expoſed here, in winter, to the open air; yet the climate produces all kinds of fruits, and vegetables, in perfection.

Here are ſome magnificent gardens, belonging to a Signior Gazzuola. The owner was formerly a coun⯑ſellor, but procured the title of Count; and as Gazu⯑ola, in Italian, ſignifies a magpye, that bird is his coat of arms; with this motto, Loquendo, i. e. by ſpeak⯑ing. Theſe delighful gardens he owes to his ſkill in his profeſſion. The former owner, who, it ſeems, had many law-ſuits on his hands, employed Gazzuola ſo long to plead for him, that he had no other way of ſatifying his demands, but by making over the houſe and gardens to him. As ſoon as Gazzuola had taken poſſeſſion, he took down the arms of the former count, and put up his own, with the motto, loquendo, inſcribed under them; which, contrary to his intention, is in⯑terpreted as the means by which he acquired this property.

Lawyers, from time immemorial, have been looked upon in a very diſadvantageous light. Even in Au⯑guſtus's [229] time they were become very contemptible at Rome; for they had departed from the dignity of their profeſſion, and enriched themſelves, by chicanery and mal-practices; and the Emperor was, at laſt, obliged to diminiſh their number, and put a check to their avarice. In the time of Lewis, Emperor of Germany, it was ſound neceſſary to publiſh a ſolemn edict, to put a ſtop to their abuſes. However, no people, perhaps, ever ſhewed a greater deteſtation for lawyers, than the ancient Germans. Lucius Florus relates, that no defeat was ever more bloody than that of Varius; nothing more ſavage than the inſults of the barbarians; eſpecially towards the pleaders of cauſes. Of ſome they plucked out the eyes, and cut off the hands of others; they ſewed up the mouth of one of them, having firſt torn out his tongue; which a barbarian holding up in his hand, ſarcaſtically ſaid, "Now ceaſe to hiſs, viper."

The two other cities, that remain to be ſpoken of, in Venetian Lombardy, are Breſcia and Bergamo.

Breſcia, the capital of a province of the ſame name, is a handſome, large, and populous city, on the river Garza. The number of inhabitants are ſaid to be 100,000; the figure of it is almoſt ſquare; with the caſtle at one corner. This city is remarkable for its iron-works; and the fire-arms, that are made here, [230] are famous through all Italy. The theatre is ſplen⯑did; the boxes much ornamented with glaſſes, paint⯑ings, front-cloth of velvet, or ſilk fringed; the ſeats in the pit are roomy; every row of this, and of the boxes, is numbered.

The environs of this city, though not naturally fer⯑tile, have been converted into a garden, by force of induſtry, a judicious choice of manure, and the ſkilful diſtribution of water, The people, of this city and province, are treated better by the Venetians, than the reſt of their ſubjects; for, having been formerly part of the Milaneſe territory, and being a frontier province, if oppreſſed, they might think of returning to their old maſters.

Bergamo, the capital of another fertile and populous province, the inhabitants of which are very induſ⯑trious, is ſituated on a mountain, overlooking a plain, covered with trees, as far as the eye can reach. As you approach it, the appearance of the ſuburbs, with the city riſing above, and the mountain crowned with the citadel, is very fine. It is not near ſo populous as Breſcia; many of the inhabitants quitting the town to ſeek a livelihood at Milan, Genoa, and other places. Bergamo is the native country of Harlequin; and the people have a ſort of humorous repartee, and an arch manner which, with their peculiar jargon, gives them [231] an air different from that of other Italians. The in⯑habitants are, many of them, troubled with large wens, or ſwellings in their throats, occaſioned, as it ſaid, by their drinking ſnow-water.

The plain of Bergamo is divided into three parts, by the river; and that part which lies between the Bremba and the Adda, called the Iſola, is not natu⯑rally ſo fertile as the other two; but the produce is much more conſiderable. It has twelve communities, or pariſhes, that vie with each other, in carrying cultivation to its utmoſt extent. They do every thing with the ſpade, and reckon four acres a main⯑tenance for five perſons; the whole exhibits a ſight more truly pleaſing, than all the pompous pageantry of churches and palaces.

Theſe two latter cities are ſuppoſed, each, to con⯑tain 14, or 15,000 inhabitants.

CHAP. IV. Character, Cuſtoms, Manners, and Dreſs.

WERE I, ſays Moore, to form an idea of the character of the Venetians, from what I have ſeen, I ſhould paint them as a lively, ingenious people, extravagantly fond of public amuſements, with an uncommon reliſh for humour; and yet more attached to the real enjoyments of life, than to thoſe which depend on oſtentation, and proceed from vanity.

The common people of Venice diſplay ſome qualities, very rarely to be found in that ſphere of life; being remarkably ſober, obliging to ſtrangers, and gentle in their intercourſe with each other.

The poor people live very well in the city of Ve⯑nice, which may be, in a great meaſure, aſcribed to their ignorance of gin, and brandy. They love gaming, and are conſequently often needy; but go⯑vernment [233] connives at it, and is rather pleaſed to have them ſo. As for thoſe who by ſickneſs, or other ac⯑cidents, are reduced to poverty, there is an abund⯑ance of charitable foundations; however, the ſwarms of beggars are ſurprizingly great. The trade of beg⯑ging, in all catholic countries, will neceſſarily proſper ſo long as that ſpecies of charity, which is beſtowed on beggars; continues to be inculcated by their preach⯑ers and confeſſors, as the moſt perfect of all moral duties.

The Venetians, in general, are tall and well made. Though equally robuſt, they are not ſo corpulent as the Germans. The latter alſo are of fair com⯑plexion, with light grey, or blue, eyes; but the Ve⯑netians are, for the moſt part, of a ruddy brown co⯑lour, with dark eyes. The women are of a fine ſtile of countenance, with expreſſive features, and a ſkin of a rich carnation. They dreſs their hair in a fan⯑ciful manner, which becomes them very much. They are of an eaſy addreſs, and have no averſion to cultivate an acquaintance with thoſe ſtrangers, who are preſented to them by their relations, or come properly recommended.

Though the Venetian government is ſtill under the influence of jealouſy, that gloomy daemon is now en⯑tirely baniſhed from the boſom of individuals. In⯑ſtead [234] of the confinement in which women were form⯑erly kept at Venice, they now enjoy a degree of freedom unknown even at Paris.

The huſbands ſeem at leaſt convinced, that the chaſtity of their wives is ſafeſt under their own guar⯑dianſhip; and that when a women thinks her honour unworthy her own regard, it is ſtill more unworthy of his. This advantage, at leaſt, muſt ariſe from the preſent ſyſtem, that when a huſband believes his wife has adhered to her conjugal vow, he has the additional ſatisfaction of knowing ſhe acts from a love to him, or from ſome honourable motive; whereas, formerly, a Venetian huſband might think himſelf obliged to bars, and bolts, for his wife's chaſtity.

Could any man imagine that a woman, when chaſ⯑tity was preſerved by ſuch means, was more reſpect⯑able than a proſtitute? The old plan of bolts and bars, without even ſecuring its object, muſt have had ſtrong tendency to debaſe the minds of both huſband and wife; for what man, whoſe mind was not perfect⯑ly abject, could have pleaſure in the ſociety of a wife, who languiſhed to be in the arms of another? Of all the humble employments that ever the wretch⯑ed ſons of Adam ſubmitted to, that of watching a wife, from morning to night, and all night too, is the moſt perfectly humiliating. Such ungenerous diſtruſt muſt [235] alſo have had the wont effect on the minds of the women, and made them view their gaolers with diſ⯑guſt, and horror; and we ought not to be ſurprized if ſome preferred the common gondoliers of the lakes, and the vagrants of the ſtreets, to ſuch huſ⯑bands.

Along with jealouſy, poiſon, and the ſtiletto have been baniſhed from Venetian gallantry, and the in⯑nocent maſk ſubſtituted in their places. According to the beſt information I have received, ſays Moore, this ſame maſk is a much more innocent matter than is generally imagined. In general, it is not intended to conceal the perſon who wears it; but only uſed as an apology for his not being in full dreſs. With a maſk ſtuck in the hat, and a kind of black mantle, trimmed with lace of the ſame colour, over the ſhoulders, a man is ſufficiently dreſſed for any aſſem⯑bly at Venice.

Thoſe, who walk the ſtreets, or go to the play-houſes, with maſks actually covering their faces, are either engaged in ſome love-intrigue, or would have the ſpectators think ſo; for this is a piece of affec⯑tation which prevails here, as well as elſewhere; and thoſe refined gentlemen, who are fond of the repu⯑tation, though they ſhrink from the cataſtrophe of an intrigue, are no uncommon characters here. I be⯑lieve [236] this the more readily, adds Moore, becauſe I daily ſee many feeble gentlemen tottering, about in maſks, for whom a baſon of warm reſtorative ſoup ſeems more expedient, than the moſt beautiful wo⯑man in Venice.

One evening, at St. Mark's place, when a gentle⯑man of my acquaintance was letting me into the ſe⯑cret of this curious piece of affectation he deſired me to take notice of a Venetian nobleman of his acquaintance; who, with an air of myſtery, was conducting a female-maſk into his Caſſino. My acquaintance knew him perfectly well, and aſſured me he was the moſt innocent creature with women, he had ever been acquainted with; when this gallant perſon perceived we were looking at him, his maſk fell to the ground, as if by accident; and, after we had got a complete view of his countenance, he put it on with much hurry, and immediately ruſhed, with his partner, into the Caſſino.

The Caſſinos are ſmall houſes of one, or two rooms on a floor, neatly fitted up, ſays Lady Millar, but never fine; thoſe I ſaw, ſhe adds, were papered with India paper, and furniſhed with chintz. It is the faſhion here, for every perſon of diſtinction to have one Caſſino, at leaſt, and very frequently more: they have little pleaſure in inhabiting their palaces, [237] which are really uncomfortable; and by the ſituation, and dimenſions, rendered extremely melancholy. A ſilent and ſolitary magnificence reigns throughout; interrupted only by the hoarſe waſhing of the ſea, againſt the walls; which cannot be very exhilarating to the ſpirits. It was therefore, moſt probably, in ſearch of chearfulneſs, recreation, and ſociety, that Caſſinos were originally reſorted to; the greater part of them are ſituated behind St. Mark's place. Here ſmall Cotteries meet, play cards, generally ſup to⯑gether, on ſome trifle, procured from the paſtry-cooks, and coffee-houſes; and often paſs the night in converſation, muſic, or in walking about the place of St. Mark.

Theſe places, ſays Moore, have the misfortune to labour under a very bad reputation; they are accu⯑ſed of being temples entirely conſecrated to lawleſs love; and a thouſand ſcandalous tales are told to ſtrangers concerning them; tales, not believed indeed, by the Venetians themſelves; the proof of which is, that the Caſſinos are allowed to exiſt; for it is abſurd to imagine that men would ſuffer their wives to enter ſuch places, if they were not convinced that thoſe ſtories were ill founded; nor can we believe, after all we have heard of the profligacy of Venetian man⯑ners, that women, even of indifferent reputations, would attend Caſſinos in the open manner they do, if [238] it were underſtood that more liberties were taken with them, there, than elſewhere.

The opening, before St. Mark's church, is the only place in Venice, where a great number of people can aſſemble. It is the faſhion to walk here a great part of the evening, to enjoy the muſic, and other amuſe⯑ments; and although there are coffee-houſes, and Venetian manners permit ladies, as well as gentle⯑men, to frequent them; yet it was natural for the noble, and moſt wealthy, to prefer little apartments of their own; where, without being expoſed to in⯑truſion, they may entertain a few friends, in a more eaſy and unceremonious manner, than they could do at their palaces. Inſtead of going home to a formal ſupper, and returning afterwards to this place of amuſement, they order coffee, lemonade, fruit, and other refreſhments to the Caſſino.

That theſe little apartments may be occaſionally uſed for the purpoſes of intrigue, is not improbable; but that this is the ordinary and avowed purpoſe, for which they are frequented, is of all things the leaſt credible.

Some writers, who have deſcribed the manners of the Venetians, as more profligate than thoſe of other nations, aſſert, at the ſame time, that the government [239] encourages this profligacy, to relax and diſſipate the the minds of the people, and prevent their planning, or attempting any thing againſt the conſtitution. Were this the caſe, it could not be denied, that the Venetian legiſlators diſplay their patriotiſm in a very extraordinary manner; and have fallen upon as extra⯑ordinary means of rendering their people good ſub⯑jects. They firſt erect a deſpotic court to guard the public liberty; and, next, corrupt the morals of the people, to keep them from plotting againſt the ſtate. This laſt piece of refinement, however, is no more than a conjecture of ſome theoretical poli⯑ticians, who are apt to take facts for granted, with⯑out ſufficient proof; and afterwards diſplay their in⯑genuity in accounting for them. That the Venetians are more given to ſenſual pleaſures, than the inhabi⯑tants of London, Paris, or Berlin, will not be diffi⯑cult to prove; but as the ſtate-inquiſitors do not think proper, and the eccleſiaſtical are not allowed, to interfere in affairs of gallantry; as a great number of ſtrangers aſſemble twice or thrice a year, at Ve⯑nice, merely for the ſake of amuſement, and, above all, as it is the cuſtom to go about in maſks; an idea prevails, that the manners are more licentious here, than elſewhere. This cuſtom of wearing a maſk, by conveying the ideas of concealment, and diſguiſe, has contributed greatly to give ſome people an impreſſion of Venetian profligacy. But, for my own part, ſays [240] Moore, it is not a piece of white, or black paper, with disjointed features, that I ſuſpect; having often found the moſt complete worthleſſneſs concealed under a ſmooth, ſmiling piece of human ſkin.

The cuſtom of Cavalieri ſerventi prevails univer⯑ſally here; this uſage would appear in a proper light, and take off a great part of the odium thrown upon the Italians, if the Cavalieri ſerventi were called huſbands: for the real huſband, or beloved friend, of a Venetian lady, is the Ciciſbeo. The huſband, married in church, is the choice of her friends, not by any means of the lady. It is from this abſurd ty⯑ranny that the chuſing of Ciciſbeos, and Cavalieri ſer⯑venti, has taken its riſe; and will never be relin⯑quiſhed in Italy, whilſt the ſame incongruous combi⯑nations conſiſt.

The Venetian ladies have a gay manner of dreſſing their heads; which becomes them extremely when young, but appears abſurd, when age has furrowed over their fine ſkins, and brought them almoſt to the ground. I felt a ſhock at the ſight of a tottering old pair, I ſaw enter a coffee-houſe, in the place St. Mark, ſays Lady Millar; they were both ſhaking with the palſy, bearing on each other, and ſupporting themſelves by a crutch-ſtick; though they were bent almoſt double, by the weight of years and infirmities, [241] yet the lady's head was dreſſed with great care; a little roſe-coloured hat, nicely trimmed with blond, was ſtuck juſt above her right ear, and over her left, was a ſmall knot of artificial flowers; her few grey hairs behind were tied with ribbon, but ſo thinly ſcattered over her forehead, that large patches of her ſhrivelled ſkin appeared between the parting curls. The Cavaliere was not dreſſed in the ſame ſtile; all his elegance conſiſted in an abundance of ivy flow⯑ing over his ſhoulders. Enquiring who this vene⯑rable couple were, I learnt that the gentleman had been the faithful Cavaliere of the ſame lady, above 40 years; that they had regularly frequented the place, St. Mark, and the coffee houſes; and with the moſt ſteady conſtancy had loved each other, till age and diſeaſe were conducting them both, hand in hand, to the grave.

However, a forty years conſtancy is far from being univerſal at Venice; coquettes are to be found there, as well as elſewhere. I have ſeen ſome inſtances of coquetry at fourſcore; a donna nobile, whom a catarrh and Satan had bound, lo! theſe eighteen years! was ſuſtaining herſelf on the arm of a briſk ciceſbeo, about five and twenty.

By a late regulation, ſays Lady Millar, the par⯑titions which formed a kind of cells, in the lower end [242] of the coffee-houſes, and into which two or three people might retire and faſten the door, are now taken away, and the rooms are quite open and pub⯑lic. At firſt the ſenate had determined to exclude the women entirely from entering them; but, on their remonſtrating very violently againſt ſuch a meaſure, they were allowed the liberty of appearing publicly, but were abſolutely forbidden to retire into any private room; and the little rooms were, without exception, ordered to be thrown into the large ones.

Another law was at the ſame time promulgated, that if any fille de joye is found walking the ſtreets about the place, St. Mark, &c. for the firſt offence, ſhe is to have her head completely ſhaved, and ſuffer impriſonment for a time ſpecified; and, for the ſecond offence, her eye-brows are likewiſe to be ſhaved; ſhe is alſo to be branded between the eyes, and then ba⯑niſhed the republic.

The courteſans here, ſays Northall, are the moſt inſinuating, and have the moſt alluring arts of any, in all Italy.

It ſtrikes a perſon very much, ſays Mrs. Piozzi, who has viſited other parts of Italy, to ſee ſo very few clergymen at Venice, and ſcarce any who have the air, or looks of a man of faſhion. Milan, though [243] ſuch heavy complaints are daily made of encroach⯑ments on church-wealth, and church-power, ſtill ſwarms with eccleſiaſtics; and, in an aſſembly of 30 people, there are ſcarce ever fewer than 10 or 12, making nearly one half of the company. But here it ſeems as if the cry of fuori i preti, out with the prieſts, which is proclaimed in the council chamber, before any vote is ſuffered to paſs into a law, were carried in the converſation rooms too; for a prieſt is here leſs frequent than a clergyman at London; and thoſe we ſee walking about are, almoſt all, ordinary men, decent and humble in their appearance; of a baſhful diſtant carriage, reſembling the parſon of the pariſh in North Wales; or the Curé du village in the South of France; and ſeem no way related to an Abbate of Milan or Turin, and ſtill leſs to Monſieur L' Abbé at Paris.

The Venetians, ſays Mrs. Piozzi, one would imagine have no notion of ſleep being neceſſary to their ex⯑iſtence, as ſome or other of them ſeem conſtantly in motion; and there is no hour, in the four and twenty, in which the town ſeems perfectly quiet; for what with the market-folks bringing up the boats from the oppoſite ſhore, loaded with every produce of nature; neatly arranged in their flat-bottomed con⯑veyances, the coming up of which begins about three in the morning, and ends about ſix;—the gondoliers [244] rowing home their maſters and miſtreſſes, about that hour, and ſo on till eight;—the common buſineſs of the town, which it is then time to begin;—the ſtate affairs and pregai, which often, like our Houſe of Commons, ſit late, and detain many gentlemen from their morning amuſements;—the ſtreet orators, and mountebanks in the place of St Mark;—the ſhops and ſtalls, where chickens, ducks, &c. are ſold by auction to the higheſt bidder;—a flouriſhing fellow, with a hammer in his hand, ſhining away in charac⯑ter of an auctioneer;—the crouds which fill the courts of Judicature when any cauſe of conſequence comes on; with the clamorous voices, keen obſer⯑vations, poignant ſarcaſms, and acute contentions carried on by the advocates, who ſeem more awake, than all the reſt;—all theſe things take up ſo much time, that four-and-twenty hours do not ſuffice for the buſineſs, and diverſions of Venice, where dinner muſt be eaten, as in other places, and where ſuch fiſh wait ones knife and fork, as are not to be ſeen in any ſea, but this, in ſo great perfection.

The ladies, who ſcarce ever dine at all, riſe about ſeven in the evening, when the gentlemen are juſt ready to attend them; they ſit ſipping their chocolate on a chair at the coffee-houſe door, with great tran⯑quility, chatting over the common topics of the day; nor do they appear half ſo ſhy of each other, as the [245] Milaneſe ladies; who ſeldom ſeem to have any plea⯑ſure in the ſoft converſe of a female friend. But, though certainly no women can be more charming than theſe Venetian ladies; they ſeem to have for⯑gotten the old mythological fable, that the youngeſt of the Graces was married to Sleep; by which it was in⯑tended we ſhould conſider that ſtate, as neceſſary, not only to the reparation of beauty, but of youth.

The crouds of beggars, who infeſt the ſtreets du⯑ring the carnival, poiſon the pleaſures of ſociety. While ladies are eating ice, at a coffee-houſe door; while decent people are hearing maſs, at the altar; while ſtrangers are ſurveying the beauties of the place—no peace, no enjoyment can they obtain for the beggars. But though I hope it will be difficult to find a place where fewer alms are given, yet I never ſaw refuſals ſo pleaſingly ſoftened, as by the manners of the high Italians, towards the low. La⯑dies, in particular, are ſo ſoft mouthed, ſo tender in replying to thoſe who have their lots caſt far below them, that one feels our own harſh diſpoſition cor⯑rected by their ſweetneſs.

From the following anecdote, by Mrs. Piozzi, one would imagine they looked upon the Engliſh as little better than Heathens. A woman of quality, ſays ſhe, neare whom I ſate at a very grand ball, [246] enquired how I had paſſed the morning. I named ſeveral churches I had looked into, particularly that which they eſteem beyond the reſt, as a favourite work of Palladio, and called the Redentore. "You do very right," ſays ſhe, "to look at our churches, as you have none in England, I know—but, then you have ſo many other fine things—ſuch charming ſteel buttons for example;" preſſing my hand, to ſhew that ſhe meant no offence; for, added ſhe, chi penſa d'una maniera; chi penſa d'un altra. Different peo⯑ple have different ways of thinking.

There is a univerſal politeneſs here, in every rank; the people expect a civil deportment from their nobles toward them, and they return it with much reſpect, and veneration; but ſhould a noble aſſume an inſolent, arrogant manner, towards his inferior, it would not be borne with. I was at firſt, ſays Lady Millar, ſurprized at the quick tranſition, from the frothy compliments of thoſe who champ the bit of a deſpotic government, and the ſtyle of compliment in Venice. The higheſt expreſſion, in this way, being gentil donna; which ſignifies, honeſt woman, or wo⯑man of honour; and, upon entering a ſhop, the tradeſman addreſſing me to know what I would have, called me cara ella; dear ſhe, or dear ma'am; when at Rome, or Naples, ſuch a man would have ſtyled me Excellenza, Illuſtriſſima.

[247]To try Venetian ladies, by Engliſh rules, would be worſe than the tyranny complained of, when a native of India was condemned, on the Coventry act, for flitting his wife's noſe, which was a common practice in his own country. Here is no ſtruggle for female education, as with us; no reſources in ſtudy, no duties of family management; no bills of fare to be looked over in the morning, no account-book to be ſettled at noon; no neceſſity of reading to ſupply, without diſgrace, the evening's chat; no laughing at the card-table; no tittering in the corner, if a lapſus linguoe has produced a miſtake, which malice never fails to record. A lady in Italy is certain of applauſe, let her take ever ſo little pains to obtain it.

A cuſtom which prevails here of wearing little or no rouge, and increaſing the native paleneſs of their ſkins, by ſcarce lightly wiping the white powder from their faces, is a method no Frenchwoman of quality would adopt; yet the Venetians are not be⯑hind hand, in art of gaining admirers; and they do not, like their painters, depend upon colouring to enſure it.

Nothing can be a greater proof of the little con⯑ſequence, which dreſs gives to a woman, than the re⯑flection we muſt make on a Venetian lady's mode of appearance in her Zindalet; without which no [248] one ſtirs out of their houſe in a morning. It conſiſts of a full black ſilk petticoat ſloped, ſays Mrs. Piozzi, juſt to train a very little on the ground, and floun⯑ced with gauze of the ſame colour. A ſkeleton wire upon the head, ſuch as we uſe to make up hats; throwing looſely over it a large piece of black mode, or Perſian, ſo as to ſhade the face like a curtain; the front being trimmed with a very deep black lace, or ſoufflet gauze, infinitely becoming. The thin ſilk, that remains to be diſpoſed of, they roll back ſo as to diſcover the boſom; faſten it with a puff before, at the top of their ſtomacher; and once more rolling it back from the ſhape, tie it gracefully behind, and let it hang in two long ends.

The evening ornament is a ſilk hat, ſhaped like a man's, and of the ſame colour, with a white or work⯑ed lining at moſt, and ſometimes one feather; a great black ſilk cloak lined with white, and perhaps a nar⯑row border down before, with a vaſt heavy round handkerchief of black lace, which lies over neck and ſhoulders, and conceals ſhape and all completely. Here is ſurely little appearance of art, no craping, or frizzing the hair, which is flat at the top, all of one length, and hanging in long curls about the back or ſides, as it happens. No brown powder, and no rouge at all. Thus, without variety does a Vene⯑tian [249] lady contrive to delight the eye, and without much inſtruction, to charm the ear.

Keyſler ſays there is a particular college inſtituted at Venice, to whoſe care the regulation of dreſs is committed, by the republic. None are exempted from the juriſdiction of this college but noblemen's wives, the two firſt years after their marriage, and ſtrangers. The former, however, are no farther in⯑dulged, than in wearing a pearl necklace, and a gold fringe at the bottom of their gowns; and in giving their gondoliers ribbons to wear on their caps. But here alſo, as in other countries, the women are con⯑nived at, in this reſpect, particularly the courteſans; who readily find patrons, under whoſe protection they treſpaſs againſt this ſumptuary law, with impunity; though there is, ſometimes, an inſtance of one, or two, being fined, on that account.

All the nobili wear black; and the importation of foreign cloth is totally prohibited. We have already taken notice of the black lining of the gondolas; but this reſtriction is limitted to thoſe belonging to the city of Venice: for the Venetian ſubjects, on the main land, are at full liberty, as to this article.

[250]The noble Venetians are even obliged to paint, and line their gondolas with black; in order to pre⯑vent the extravagant expences that would ariſe from an emulation to outvie each other, in the ſplendor of theſe naval equipages. Foreigners are at liberty to ſpend what money they pleaſe in fine gondolas; but few ſtrangers ſtay long enough in this city, to make uſe of this political indulgence: ſo that the only perſons, who diſtinguiſh themſelves ſplendidly in gon⯑dolas, are the foreign miniſters who always make entries in them. On theſe occaſions the gondolas are extremely gay, being decorated with the fineſt paint⯑ings, gildings, and ſculpture.

Strangers are under leſs reſtraint in this city, re⯑ſpecting many particulars, than the native inhabitants. There are many, who, after having tried moſt of the capitals of Europe, have preferred living at Venice; on account of the variety of amuſements, the gentle manners of the inhabitants, and the perfect freedom allowed in every thing, except in blaming the mea⯑ſures of government. If a ſtranger is ſo imprudent to give his tongue liberties, in this reſpect, he will either receive a meſſage to leave the territories of the ſtate, or one of the Sbirri will be ſent to accompany him to the Pope's, or the Emperor's dominions.

[251]The houſes are thought inconvenient, by many of the Engliſh; they are better calculated, however, for the climate of Italy, than if they were built according to the London model. The floors which, as we have before remarked, are of red plaiſter, with a brilliant gloſſy ſurface, appear much more beautiful than wood; and are preferable, in caſe of fire, whoſe progreſs they are calculated to check.

The principal apartments being on the ſecond floor, perhaps, is owing to their being farther removed from the moiſture of the lakes; or, it may be, to their being better lighted, and more chearful. Though the inhabitants of Great Britain make uſe of their firſt floors for their chief apartments, this does not form a complete demonſtration that the Venetians are in the wrong, for preferring the ſecond. When an acute ſenſible people univerſally follow one cuſtom, in a mere matter of conveniency, however abſurd that cuſtom may appear, in the eyes of a ſtranger, at firſt fight, it will generally be found that there is ſome real advantage in it, which compenſates all the appa⯑rent inconvenience. Of this travellers, who do not hurry, with too much rapidity, through the countries they viſit, are very ſenſible; for, after having had time to weigh every circumſtance, they often ſee rea⯑ſon to approve, what they had formerly condemned. Cuſtom and faſhion have the greateſt influence on our [252] taſte of beauty, or excellence of every kind. What, from a variety of cauſes, has become the ſtandard in one country, is, ſometimes, juſt the contrary in another. The ſame thing that makes a low-brimmed hat appear genteel, at one time, makes it ridiculous at another.

CHAP. V. Amuſements.

OF all the diverſions, which this city affords to ſtrangers, the carnival is generally accounted the principal one. Young perſons, who ſeek for en⯑tertainment only in debauchery, and exorbitant licen⯑tiouſneſs, may, at this time, if not ſatiate their deſires, at leaſt tire themſelves. But the diverſions at this, and other feſtivals, eſpecially on Aſcenſion-day, are of ſuch a nature, that, to take an habitual delight in ſuch a diſſolute manner of living, a perſon muſt have laid aſide all regard to decency, and morality.

The courtezans, who tender their ſervices here, at this time, are the moſt abandoned wretches, and [253] loſt to all ſenſe of modeſty and decorum; and, for the moſt part, have been, for their debaucheries and vil⯑lanies, driven out of the neighbouring imperial domi⯑nions; often bearing, on their backs, marks of the pu⯑niſhed, more than once ſuffered, by the hands of the common hangman.

The Italians, in general, are exceſſively fond of maſquerades; and go, generally, maſked, during the whole time of the carnival. The maſquerade dreſs, at Venice, conſiſts only of a night-gown; or a cloak, with a maſk on the face. The general uſe of maſks prevents a ſtranger from making any acquaintance, at this ſeaſon; and likewiſe from ſeeing any curioſities; for no perſon is permitted to go into a church, or convent, in any kind of diſguiſe.

A ſtranger is ſoon tired of the Ridotto at Venice; and, as the purſes of moſt travellers will not allow them to game very high, it would be imprudent in a foreigner to engage too far in this diverſion; eſpecially as the cards are different from what he has been uſed to. None but noble Venetians hold the Banco, or bank, as it is called, in the Ridotto-room. Cloſe by every banker ſit two ladies in maſks; who are allowed to put him in mind of any miſtakes he may chance to com⯑mit, to his diſadvantage. The bankers are unmaſked; but the punters keep them on. No maſk is denied [254] admittance into the Ridotto-room; ſo that it may be well conceived what inconveniences one muſt ſuffer from ſuch a croud.

The grand ſcene of all the follies acted, during the carnival, is St. Mark's place; where mountebanks, buffoons, and others, whoſe profeſſion is to make a prey of the ſimple vulgar, have their ſtages, and exhibit their ſhows. But the moſt ridiculous figures, among the reſt, are the old women, or old men, who ſit upon a table, and are conſulted, like oracles, con⯑cerning future events, the ſucceſs of enterprizes, &c. That, among ſuch a multitude of people, this may be done, without confuſion, and with the greater ſecrecy, theſe fortune-tellers make uſe of a long ſpeaking-trumpet; through which the conſulter conveys his queries by a whiſper; whilſt the conjurer conveys his ear to the large opening; and inverts the trumpet, to reſolve the queſtions propoſed. Amidſt the pity which naturally muſt ariſe in the human breaſt, at any inſtance of weakneſs, or wickedneſs, that debaſe ra⯑tional creatures; a perſon can ſcarce forbear ſmiling to ſee poor ſimple girls, coming up to theſe fortune-tellers, whoſe looks and geſtures betray their fear and confuſion, to enquire about their fate, with regard to their amours, &c. To raiſe the higher ideas of their abilities, theſe impoſtors are ſure to place on their table ſome paltry globes, or other aſtronomical inſtru⯑ments. [255] Even eccleſiaſtics, both regular and ſecular, have been known, openly, to have recourſe to theſe fortune-tellers.

In the colonade, or cloiſter, round St Mark's place, are ſeveral coffee-houſes, as we have before obſerved; but which are frequented moſtly by foreigners. For⯑merly the company uſed to fit and converſe together at their eaſe, in theſe coffee-houſes; but this cuſtom has been, for ſome time, prohibited. This was owing to a diſcovery made during the carnival. The ſon of the Imperial envoy had made uſe of this opportunity, when masked, to diſcourſe with ſeveral of the Vene⯑tian nobility; and, ſince that time, no benches or chairs have been allowed in the coffee-houſes of this city.

It is not only during the carnival, but on ſeveral other occaſions, that masks are allowed; namely, on the four days that the republic holds its grand feaſts; at the Regata, or boat-races, and other entertainments for the diverſion of foreign princes; at the nuptials of one of the nobles; on the election of the procurators of St. Mark; or on the public entry of a foreign am⯑baſſador, &c. Theſe opportunities, ſays Keyſler, the Venetian ladies wait for with the moſt eager impati⯑ence; but the huſbands are no leſs on their guard to ſecure the honour of the marriage-bed. However, [256] as the commerce between the ſexes has undergone great alterations, ſince the beginning of this century, this is alſo the caſe at Venice; where ladies of cha⯑racter not only receive male viſitors in the morning, when in an undreſs, but accept of invitations to enter⯑tainments, in mixed companies; and even to treats at taverns. But there are parties where foreigners are ſeldom, or ever, admitted; unleſs known to ſome of the principal perſons of the company.

On the laſt Thurſday of the carnival, when licen⯑tiouſneſs is carried to its greateſt height, bulls are baited in ſeveral ſtreets, and in St. Mark's place; but theſe may be ſeen at other times.

The Turkiſh ſailor gave no bad account of a car⯑nival, when he told his Mahometan friends, on his re⯑turn to Turkey, that the poor chriſtians were all diſ⯑ordered in their ſenſes; and nearly in a ſtate of actual madneſs, while he remained among them; till one day, on a ſudden, they luckly found out a certain grey powder that cured ſuch ſymptoms; and, laying it on their heads one Wedneſday morning, the wits of all the inhabitants were reſtored inſtantaneouſly; and the people grew ſober, quiet, compoſed, and went about their buſineſs, juſt like other folks, He meant the aſhes ſtrewed on the heads of Catholics during Lent, [257] which ceremony is more ſtrictly obſerved in Venice, than in any other catholic countries.

On Aſcenſion-day, in the afternoon, ſeveral hun⯑dred boats and gondolas may be ſeen rowing, for wagers, on the canal di Murano; and their dexterity in keeping clear of each other, tacking about, &c. is very ſurprizing. In moſt of the gondolas, on this day, are maſks and muſic; and a univerſal emulation appears among them, who ſhall divert themſelves moſt.

When any foreign prince of diſtinction arrives at Venice, the republic generally entertains him with a regatta, or rowing matches of gondolas, on the great canal. The word regatta ſeems to be derived from the aurigatio, or chariot-races of the Circenſian games.

Formerly another diverſion was exhibited at this ſeaſon, on a bridge near St. Barnaby's church; which was an engagement betwixt the Caſtellani and Nicolati. During this mock battle, ſeveral perſons, on both ſides, are thrown into the water. This bridge is ſeven common paces broad, eighteen long, and without any fence; and, when ſuch an engage⯑ment was going to be exhibited, the water under it was made deeper than uſual. The combatants were not allowed to ſcratch or ſeize one another, but only to ſhew their ſtrength, and addreſs, with their [258] arms and fiſts. But this diverſion has been ſuppreſſed for ſome time, having once occaſioned a dangerous tumult; when the populace aſſaulted, with ſtones, the houſes where the nobles were poſted to view the battle, and encourage the combatants.

Among the ſeveral ſhows, that are annually ex⯑hibited during the carnival, Addiſon mentions one that is odd enough, and particular to the Venetians. A ſet of artiſans, by the ſeveral poles, which they lay acroſs each others ſhoulders, build themſelves up into a kind of pyramid; ſo that you ſee a pile of men, in the air, of four or five rows, riſing one above another. The weight is ſo equally diſtributed, that every man is very well able to bear his part of it; the ſtories, if they may be ſo called, growing leſs and leſs as they advance higher and higher. A little boy repreſents the point of the pyramid; who, after a ſhort ſpace, leaps off, with a great deal of dexterity, into the arms of one that catches him at the bottom. In the ſame manner the whole building falls to pieces. (We have ſeen this exhibited at a place of entertainment in London). I have been the more particular in this, ſays Addiſon, becauſe it explains the following verſe of Claudian, which ſhews that the Venetians are not the inventors of this trick.

The Italian plays, in general, remarks Keyſler, are wretched performances, and thoſe of Venice are not at all better than the reſt. As the whole deſign of the actors is to raiſe a laugh in the audience, to that pur⯑poſe they employ all manner of grimaces, poſtures, and diſtortions, which ſometimes border upon ob⯑ſcenity.

The Italian opera may be very juſtly reckoned among the principal diverſions, both of the carnival and the Aſcenſion week. In this particular, the Ita⯑lians unqueſtionably ſurpaſs all other nations; and nothing but an inſupportable vanity can make the French bring their muſic in competition with that of Italy. The decorations of the theatre of Paris are indeed ſcarce to be exceeded, and the dances and in⯑terludes, between the acts, are excellent. But in the [260] compoſition of the opera, and the executive part, the French are much inferior to the Italians. Their airs, for the moſt part, reſemble drinking ſongs, and have ſo little variety, that the repetition of the ſame ſounds muſt be tireſome to a nice car. When a new opera is exhibited, if the French audience cannot make themſelves maſters of the airs, ſo as to be able to join with the performers, in ſinging them on the ſecond night, they are diſpleaſed with them. But in the Ita⯑lian theatre the caſe is different; for though the latter have naturally a great fondneſs and genius for muſic; yet they are ſenſible it requires a much longer time to be able to imitate the fine airs of their ſingers.

Interludes, which conſiſt of drolleries of all kinds, accompanied with ſuitable ſongs, are introduced be⯑tween the acts of the opera, on the Italian ſtage, in order to divert the audience. Ballads and dances are alſo frequently exhibited, but theſe are not to be compared with the opera dances at Paris.

There are no leſs than ſeven theatres at Venice; two of theſe are commonly appropriated to the ſerious operas, two to comic operas, and the other three to plays; but they are all open only during the carnival, which begins on St. Stephen, and continues till Lent; and then they are all full every night. In Autumn, the houſes are open for the comic operas and plays: [261] and at the Aſcenſion there is a ſerious opera. A trifle is paid at the door for admittance; this entitles a perſon to go into the pit, where he may look about, and determine what part of the houſe he will ſit in. There are rows of chairs towards the front, the ſeats of which ſold back, and are locked. Thoſe, who chooſe to occupy them, pay a little more money to the door-keeper, who immediately unlocks the ſeat. Very decent people occupy theſe chairs; but the back part of the pit is filled with footmen and gondoliers, in their common working clothes. The nobility, and better ſort of citizens, have boxes re⯑tained for the year; but there is always a ſufficient number to be let to ſtrangers; the price of them varies every night, according to the ſeaſon of the year, and the piece to be acted.

A Venetian playhouſe has a diſmal appearance, in the eyes of people accuſtomed to the brilliancy of thoſe in London. Many of the boxes are ſo dark, that the faces of the company in them can hardly be diſtinguiſhed, at a little diſtance; even when they do not wear masks. The ſtage, however, is well il⯑luminated, ſo that the people in the boxes can ſee perfectly well, every thing that is tranſacted there; and when they chuſe to be ſeen themſelves, they order lights into the boxes. Between the acts, ladies may ſometimes be ſeen walking about with their cavalieri [262] ſerventi in the back part of the pit, when it is not crowded. As they are masked, they do not ſcruple to reconnoitre the company with their ſpying-glaſſes, from this place: when the play begins they return to their boxes. This continual moving about, from box to box, and between the boxes and the pit, muſt create ſome confuſion; and, no doubt, is diſagreeable to thoſe who attend merely on account of the piece. There muſt be found ſome douceur, at leaſt, in the midſt of all this obſcurity and confuſion; which, in the opinion of the majority of the audience, overbalances theſe inconveniences.

The muſic of the opera, here, is reckoned as fine as in any town in Italy. The dramatic and poetic part of theſe pieces is little regarded, provided the muſic receives the approbation of the critics. It is certainly happy for a man to have a taſte for fine muſic, be⯑cauſe he has, by this means, one ſource of enjoyment more than thoſe, whoſe auditory nerves are leſs deli⯑cately ſtrung. It is, however, equally abſurd, to affect an exceſſive delight in things, which nature has not framed us to enjoy; yet how many people may be ſeen doing painful penance in the opera-houſe, at the Haymarket; and, in the midſt of unſuppreſſible yawnings, calling out, Charming! exquiſite! bra⯑viſſimo! &c.

[263]It is amazing what pains ſome people take to render themſelves ridiculous; and it is a matter of real curioſity to obſerve, in what various ſhapes the little deſpicable ſpirit of affectation ſhews itſelf among mankind.

I remember, ſays Moore, a very honeſt gentle⯑man, who underſtood little or no French; but having picked up a few phraſes, he brought them forward on every occaſion; and affected, among his neighbours in the country, the moſt perfect knowledge, and the higheſt admiration of that language. When any perſon, in compliance with his taſte, uttered a ſentence in that tongue, though my good friend did not under⯑ſtand a ſyllable of it, yet he never failed to nod and ſmile to the ſpeaker, with the moſt knowing air ima⯑ginable. The parſon of the pariſh, at a country dinner, once addreſſed him in theſe emphatic words: Monſieur, Je trouve ce plum pudding extrémement bon! which happening not to be in my friends collection of phraſes, he did not comprehend. He nodded and ſmiled to the clergyman, however, in his uſual intelli⯑gent manner; but a perſon who ſat near him, being ſtruck with the ſagacious and important tone in which the obſervation had been delivered, begged of my friend to explain it in Engliſh: on which, after ſome heſi⯑tation, he declared that the turn of the expreſſion was ſo genteel, and ſo exquiſitely adapted to the French idiom, that it could not be rendered into Engliſh [264] without loſing a great deal of the original beauty of the ſentiment.

At the comic opera, continues Moore, I have ſometimes ſeen action alone excite the higheſt ap⯑plauſe, independent either of the poetry or the muſic. I ſaw a duo performed by an old man and a young woman, ſuppoſed to be his daughter, in ſuch a hu⯑mourous manner, as drew an univerſal encore from the ſpectators; though the merit of the muſical part of the compoſition was but very moderate.

The father informs his daughter, in a ſong, he had found an excellent match for her; who, beſides being rich, very prudent, and not too young, was, a particular friend of his own; and, in perſon and diſ⯑poſition, not unlike himſelf: he concludes by telling her the ceremony ſhall be performed next day. She thanks him in the gayeſt air poſſible, for his obliging intentions, adding, that ſhe ſhould have been glad to have ſhewn her implicit obedience to his com⯑mands, had there been any chance of the man's being to her taſte; but as, from the account given, there could be none, ſhe declares ſhe will not marry him the next day; and adds, with a very long quaver, that if ſhe were to live to all eternity, ſhe ſhould con⯑tinue of the ſame opinion. The father, in a violent rage, tells her, inſtead of to-morrow, the marriage ſhall take place that very day; to which ſhe replies, [265] non: he rejoins, ſi; ſhe, non, non; he, ſi, ſi; the daughter, non, non, non; the father, ſi, ſi, ſi; and ſo the ſinging continued five or ſix minutes. There is certainly nothing marvellouſly witty in this; and for a daughter to be of a different opinion from her father, in the choice of a huſband, is not a very new dramatic incident. The duo, however, was encored, and performed a ſecond time with more humour than the firſt. The whole houſe vociferates for it again; and it was ſung a third time in a manner equally plea⯑ſant, and yet perfectly different from any of the former two. I thought the houſe would have been brought down about our ears, ſo extravagant were the teſtimonies of approbation. The two actors were now obliged to appear again, and ſing this duo a fourth time; which they executed in a ſtyle ſo new, ſo natural, and ſo exquiſitely droll, that the audi⯑ence now thought there had been ſomething deficient in all their former performances, and that they had hit on the true comic only this laſt time. Some people began to call for it again; but the old man, now quite exhauſted, begged for mercy; on which the point was given up. I never before, concludes Moore, had any idea, that ſuch ſtrong comic powers could have been diſplayed in the warbling of a ſong.

The dancing is an eſſential part of the entertain⯑ment at the opera here, as well as at London. [266] There is certainly a much greater proportion of man⯑kind deaf to the delights of muſic, than blind to the beauties of fine dancing. During the ſinging and recitative, the fingers often ſing, for a conſiderable time, without any one's minding them; but the mo⯑ment the ballet begins, private converſation, though pretty univerſal before, is immediately at an end, and the eyes of all the ſpectators are fixed on the ſtage. This, to be ſure, has always been the caſe in London; and, in ſpite of the pains ſome people take to conceal it, we all know the reaſon; but to find this ſame preference of dancing to muſic, in Italy, is worthy of reaſon.

The comedies, ſays Addiſon, that I ſaw at Venice, or indeed in any other part of Italy, are very dif⯑ferent, and more lewd than thoſe of other countries. Their poets have no notion of genteel comedy, and fall into the moſt filthy double meanings imaginable, when they have a mind to make their audience merry. There is no part generally ſo wretched as that of the fine gentleman, eſpecially when he converſes with his miſtreſs; for then the whole dialogue is an inſipid mixture of pedantry and romance. But it is no wonder that the poets of ſo jealous and reſerved a nation fail in ſuch converſation on the ſtage, which they have no patterns of in nature. There are four ſtanding characters, which enter into every piece that come on the ſtage, the Doctor, [267] Harlequin, Pantalone, and Coviello. The doctor's character comprehends the whole extent of a pedant, that with a deep voice, and a magiſterial air, breaks in upon converſation, and drives down all before him: every thing he ſays is backed with quo⯑tations out of Galen, Hippocrates, Plato, Virgil, or any author that riſes uppermoſt; and all anſwers from his companion are looked upon as impertinences or in⯑terruptions. Harlequin's part is made up of blunders and abſurdities: he is to miſtake one man for another, to forget his errands, to ſtumble over queens, and to run his head againſt a poſt that ſtands in his way. This all attended with ſomething ſo comical in the voice and geſtures, that a man, who is ſenſible of the folly of the part, can hardly forbear being pleaſed with it. Pantalone is generally an old cully, and Coviello a ſharper.

Moore makes the ſame remarks. I had got, ſays this writer, I don't know how, the moſt contemptuous opinion of the Italian drama. I had been told there was not a tolerable actor in Italy, and had been long taught to conſider their comedy as the moſt deſpicable ſtuff in the world, which could not amuſe, or even draw a ſmile from, any perſon of taſte. Impreſſed with theſe ſentiments, I viſited one of the playhouſes in this city. The piece was a comedy, and the moſt entertaining character in it, was that of a man who [268] ſtuttered. In this defect, and in the ſingular gri⯑maces which accompanied it, conſiſted a great part of the amuſement. Diſguſted at ſuch a pitiful ſub⯑ſtitution for wit and humour, I expreſſed a contempt for an audience which could be entertained with ſuch buffoonery, and who could take pleaſure in a na⯑tural infirmity. While we inwardly indulged ſenti⯑ments of ſelf-approbation, on account of the refine⯑ment and ſuperiority of our taſte, and ſupported the dignity of thoſe ſentiments by a diſdainful gravity of countenance; the ſtutterer was giving a piece of in⯑formation to Harlequin, which greatly intereſted him, and to which he liſtened with every mark of eager⯑neſs. The unfortunate ſpeaker had juſt arrived at the moſt important part of his narrative, which was to acquaint the impatient liſtener where his miſtreſs was concealed, when he unluckily ſtumbled on a word of ſix or ſeven ſyllables, which completely obſtructed the progreſs of his narration. He attempted it again and again, but always without ſucceſs. You may have obſerved, that though many other words would explain his meaning equally well, you may as ſoon make a ſaint change his religion, as prevail on a ſtut⯑terer to accept of another word in place of the one at which he has ſtumbled. He adheres to his firſt word to the laſt, and will ſooner expire with it in his throat, than give it up for any other you may offer. Harle⯑quin, on the preſent occaſion, preſented his friend [269] with a dozen, but he rejected them all with diſdain, and perſiſted in his unſucceſsful attempts on that which had firſt come in his way. At length, making a deſperate effort, when all the ſpectators were gaping in expectation of his ſafe delivery, the cruel word came up with its broad ſide foremoſt, and ſtuck directly acroſs the unhappy man's windpipe. He gaped, and panted, and croaked; his face fluſhed, and his eyes ſeemed ready to ſtart from his head. Harlequin unbuttoned the ſtutterers waiſtcoat, and the neck of his ſhirt; he fanned his face with his cap, and held a bottle of hartſhorn to his noſe. At length, fearing his unhappy patient would expire before he could give the deſired intelligence, in a fit of deſpair he pitched his head full in the dying man's ſtomach, and the word bolted out at his mouth to the moſt diſtant part of the houſe. This was performed in a manner ſo perfectly droll, and the humorous abſur⯑dity of the expedient came ſo unexpectedly upon me, that I immediately burſt into a moſt exceſſive fit of laughter, in which I was accompanied by the friends who were with me; and our laughter continued in ſuch loud, violent, and repeated fits, that the at⯑tention of the audience being turned from the ſtage to our box, occaſioned a renewal of the mirth all over the playhouſe with greater vociferation than at firſt. On return to our hotel, I was aſked if I were as much convinced as ever, that a man muſt be perfectly de⯑void [270] of taſte, who could condeſcend to laugh at an Italian comedy. When the theatres are open, all the world goes there, particularly in the ſeaſon of the carnival, where the Barcaroles, or Gondoliers, make ſo great a figure, that it is ſaid of them, what Bickerſtaff ſaid of the trunk-maker in the Tatler, that what they cenſure or applaud is generally condemned or approved by the public; in ſhort, that it is the Barcaroles who decide the fate of an opera or play. Theſe Barcaroles, ſays Sharpe, are certainly ſuch a body of ſober men, as in England we have no inſtance of, among the lower claſs of people: in maſquerade time, however, they indulge the taſte of gaming; and, doubtleſs, often play with the nobles, their maſters; but the brownneſs and coarſeneſs of their hands be⯑tray their occupation; beſides, it is impoſſible for them to forbear making their boaſts, or their com⯑plaints, of good and bad fortune; when their dialect and deportment never fail to diſcover them.

The number, as well as character of theſe people, renders their body very reſpectable: when one con⯑ſiders that in all the great families every gentleman keeps a diſtinct gondola, rowed by two men, except ſome few, who have but one rower; it will be readily conceived, that the number of Barcaroles muſt be very conſiderable. They are exceedingly proud of their ſtation, and with ſome reaſon; for their pro⯑feſſion [271] leads them into the company of the greateſt men of the ſtate; and it is the faſhion to converſe with them, to hear their wit and humour, and applaud every thing they ſay; beſides, the pay of a Barcarole is about eighteen pence Engliſh, with liveries and little perquiſites; which, in ſo cheap a country, is a plentiful income to a ſober man; accordingly it is notorious, that all of them can afford to marry, and do marry.

We ſhall conclude this account of their amuſe⯑ments with the ceremony of a Venetian wedding, and the dreſs of the bride, as deſcribed by Lady Millar. The proceſſion of the gondolas to the church was very fine; the gondoliers, dreſſed in gold and ſilver ſtuffs, made a moſt brilliant contraſt with the black⯑neſs of their boats. The pillars, and walls of the church, were covered with crimſon damaſk, fringed with gold; the altar richly adorned with lace and flowers, and the ſteps up to it ſpread over with Per⯑ſian carpets; and the whole church was illuminated with large wax tapers, though at noon day.

As ſoon as the company were diſembarked from their gondolas, they formed themſelves into a regular proceſſion; the ladies walked two and two: they were all dreſſed in thin black ſilk gowns, (except the bride) with large hoops; the gowns are ſtrait-bodied, with [272] very long trains, like the court-dreſſes worn at Ver⯑ſailles; their trains tucked up on one ſide of the hoop, with a prodigious large taſſel of diamonds. Their ſleeves were covered, up to the ſhoulders, with falls of the fineſt Bruſſels lace, a drawn tucker of the ſame round the boſom, adorned with rows of the fineſt pearl, each as large as a moderate gooſeberry, till the rows deſcended below the top of the ſtomacher; then two ropes of pearls, which came from the back of the neck, were caught up, at the left ſide of the ſtomacher, and finiſhed in two fine taſſels. Their heads were dreſſed prodigiouſly high, in a vaſt number of buckles, and two long drop curls in the neck. A great num⯑ber of diamond pins, and ſtrings of pearl, adorned their heads, with large ſultanes, or feathers, on one ſide, and magnificent diamond ear-rings.

CHAP. VI. Conſtitution and Government.

THE ſupreme authority is lodged in the hands of the nobility, who are ſaid to be in number near 2,000. On the birth of a nobleman's ſon, his name is entered in the golden book, otherwiſe he forfeits his nobility. Every nobleman is indeed a member of the ſenate; and, on this account, it is a received maxim that they are all equal in dignity. But the difference, notwithſtanding, between the intereſt and [274] authority of families, is very conſiderable. Crowned heads, German, and other princes, have not thought it any degradation to be made nobles of Venice.

The head of the Republic is the Doge, or Duke; who, on the demiſe of the former, is choſen in the fol⯑lowing manner; which is not a little complicated. All the noblemen, above thirty years of age, meet in the palace of St. Mark; where an equal number of balls, to the perſons preſent, are put into an urn. Thirty of theſe are gilded, and the others ſilvered over. Every nobleman, in his turn, takes out a balls, and they who have drawn the thirty gilt balls, retire into a chamber to continue the election. Theſe thirty electors draw from another urn, in which are twenty-one ſilvered, and nine gilded balls. They who draw the gilded balls, nominate forty other electors, which are again by lot reduced to twelve, who name five and twenty. Theſe five and twenty draw lots a ſecond time, to be reduced to nine, and of theſe nine, each chooſes five others, making in all forty-five; and from theſe forty-five, eleven are ſe⯑parated again by lot, who chooſe forty-one others. Theſe forty-one are then ſhut up in a chamber of the ducal palace, and there remain till they have choſen a new Doge. The reſult of their determination is generally known in ſix or eight hours. To the due and legal election of a Doge, it is required, that out [275] of the forty-one, he ſhould have five and twenty votes. His election is followed by a kind of coro⯑nation; the ducal cap, the fore-part of which pro⯑jects as a mark of the unlimited power of the re⯑public, being placed, with great ceremony, on his head.

The Doge has been very juſtly defined to be, in habit and ſtate a king, in authority a counſellor, in the city a priſoner, and out of it a private perſon. He is not ſo much as to ſtir from the city, without the council's permiſſion. At preſent, his privileges conſiſt in the following leading particulars: 1. That the coin be ſtamped with his name, but not with his image. 2. That all the credentials of the miniſters of the repub⯑lics to foreign courts be made out in his name, but with⯑out his ſignature, or ſeal. 3. That all diſpatches from foreign courts be directed to him; which, however, he is not to open, but in preſence of ſome of the council. 4. That he is to act as the preſident of all aſſemblies. 5. That within Venice he is to have the ſtate of a ſovereign prince, and to be ſtyled Sereniſ⯑ſime. 6. That he is to uncover himſelf only before ſovereigns, and princes of royal blood, and cardinals. 7. Laſtly, That his family is not to be ſubject to any ſumptuary laws. His yearly income is 12,000 ducats. Of this ſum, he muſt ſpend one half on the four grand entertainments, which he is obliged to [276] give every year; and, to live up to his dignity, he muſt alſo ſpend conſiderably of his own fortune.

Among the reſtrictions laid upon him, are the fol⯑lowing: His ſons and brothers are excluded from all conſiderable offices, and incapable of being ſent on embaſſies as long as he lives; and, without the ſenate's conſent, they are not to accept of a fief from a foreign prince, or a benefice from the Pope. Even the Doge himſelf is not to marry the ſiſter, or re⯑lation of a prince, without the permiſſion of the great council. On his demiſe, his adminiſtration is ſtrictly enquired into, and frequent opportunities taken of laying a heavy fine on his heirs for mal-adminiſtra⯑tion. Even in his life-time, he is ſubject to the de⯑cree of the ſtate inquiſition; the preſident of which may, at all hours, go into his moſt ſecret cloſets, and ſearch his bed, and all his writings, while the Doge dares not expreſs the leaſt diſguſt, or reſent⯑ment. In ſtate affairs, he cannot do the leaſt thing, nor go out of the city, without the conſent of the ſenate; and, during his ſtay on the Terra firma, he is looked on no more than a private gentleman. Under ſuch diſagreeable circumſtances, if it were not a flagrant truth, that the human heart idolizes every thing which has a ſplendid exterior, we ſhould conclude, that the dignity of a Venetian Doge, would be rather avoided, than eagerly ſought after.

[277]In the grand council, all nobles, of the age of twenty-five years, may take their place, though ſome younger find means to obtain admittance. It uſually meets on Sundays, and holidays, in the large hall of the ducal place; and, when all the nobility are pre⯑ſent, conſiſts of near 2,000 perſons.

The ſenate, or pregadi, are a committee of the grand council, by whom they are alſo choſen. This ſenate has the management of the moſt ſecret and important ſtate affairs; ſuch as making alliances, declaring war, ſending ambaſſadors, coining money, ſitting up offices, impoſing taxes, &c. It conſiſts of about 300 perſons.

The third council is called the collegium, and con⯑ſiſts of the Doge, his ſix counſellors, and one or two others. In this council, letters and inſtruments re⯑lating to the ſtate are read, ambaſſadors are ad⯑mitted to audience, and other important affairs are tranſacted.

The procurators of St. Mark were, at firſt, only appointed as commiſſioners, to ſuperintend the build⯑ing of the church; but in time, wills, guardianſhips, and making a proper proviſion for the poor, fell under their juriſdiction. This office is reckoned the more conſiderable, becauſe it is held for life. The procu⯑rators [278] of St. Mark are, at preſent; but nine in number: when the ſtate is diſtreſſed for money, the title may be acquired, by advancing a conſiderable ſum.

The council often is a high penal court, which, in fact, conſiſts of ſeventeen members; for, beſides the ten noblemen choſen annually by the grand council, from which number this court receives its name, the Doge preſides, and the ſix counſellors attached to the Doge aſſiſt, when they think proper, at all deliberations.

The council is ſupreme in all crimes againſt the ſtate. It is the duty of three chiefs, choſen every month from this court, by lot, to open all letters ad⯑dreſſed to it; to report the contents, and aſſemble the members, when they think proper. They have the power of ſeizing accuſed perſons, examining them in priſon, and taking their anſwers in writing, with the evidence againſt them; which being laid before the court, theſe chiefs appear as proſecutors.

The priſoners, all this time, are kept in cloſe con⯑finement, deprived of the company of relations and friends, and not allowed to receive any advice by letters. They can have no counſel to aſſiſt them, un⯑leſs [279] one of the judges chooſes to aſſume that office; in which caſe he is permitted to manage their defence, and plead their cauſe; after which the court decides, by a majority of votes, acquitting the priſoner, or condemning him to private or public execution, as they think proper; and if any perſons murmur at the fate of their relations or friends, and talk of their innocence, and the injuſtice they have met with, theſe mal-contents are in great danger of meeting with the ſame fate.

Out of this court the grand council of Venice, in the year 1501, thought proper to create the tribunal of ſtate-inquiſitors, which is ſtill more deſpotic and brief in its manner of proceeding.

This court conſiſts of three members only, all taken from the council of ten; two litterally from the ten, and the third from the counſellors of the Doge, who alſo make part of that council.

Theſe three perſons have the power of deciding, without appeal, on the lives of every citizen belong⯑ing to the Venetian State; the higheſt of the nobility, even the Doge himſelf, not being excepted. They keep the keys of the boxes, into which anonymous informations are thrown. The informers, who ex⯑pect a recompence, cut off a little piece of their letter, [280] which they afterwards ſhew to the inquiſitor, when they claim a reward. To theſe three inquiſitors is given the right of employing ſpies, conſidering ſecret intelligence, iſſuing orders to ſeize all perſons, whoſe words or actions they think reprehenſible, and afterwards trying them, when they think proper. If all the three are of one opinion, no farther ceremony is neceſſary; they may order the priſoner to be ſtrangled in priſon, drowned in the canal Orfano, hanged privately in the night between the pillars, or executed publickly as they pleaſe; and whatever their deciſion be, no further inquiſition can be made on the ſubject; but, if any one of the three differs from his brethren, the cauſe muſt be carried before the full aſſembly of the council often. One would naturally imagine, that by thoſe the priſoner might have a good chance of being acquitted; becauſe, the difference in opinion of the three inquiſitors ſhews, that the caſe is at leaſt dubious; and, in du⯑bious caſes, this court is governed by maxims dif⯑ferent from that of others. It is a rule here to admit of ſmaller preſumptions, in all crimes which affect the government, than in other caſes; and the only dif⯑ference they make between a crime fully proved, and one more doubtful, is, that, in the firſt caſe, the execution is in broad day-light; but when there are doubts of the priſoner's guilt, he is put to death pri⯑vately. The ſtate inquiſitors have keys to every [281] apartment of the ducal palace, and can, when they think proper, penetrate into the very bed-chamber of the Doge, open his cabinet, and examine his papers. Of courſe they may command acceſs to the houſe of every individual in the ſtate. They con⯑tinue in office only one year, but are not reſponſible afterwards for their conduct, while they were in au⯑thority.

What would our modern patriots think, if they lived in the ſame city with three perſons, who had the power of ſhutting them up in a dungeon, and putting them to death when they pleaſed, and with⯑out being accountable for ſo doing? If, from the characters of the inquiſitors of one year, a man had nothing to dread; ſtill he might fear, that a ſet of a different character might be in authority the next; and although he were perſuaded, that the inquiſitors would always be choſen from among men of the moſt known integrity in the ſtate, he might tremble at the malice of ſecret informers and enemies; a combi⯑nation of whom might impoſe on the underſtanding of upright judges, eſpecially where the accuſed is ex⯑cluded from his friends, and denied counſel to aſſiſt him in his defence; for let him be never ſo conſcious of innocence, he cannot be ſure of remaining unſuſ⯑pected, or unaccuſed; nor can he be certain, that he ſhall not be put to the rack, to ſupply a deficiency of [282] evidence; and finally, though a man poſſeſſed of ſo much firmneſs of character, as to feel no inquietude from any of their conſiderations on his own account, he might ſtill be under apprehenſions for his children, and other connections, for whom ſome men feel more anxiety than for themſelves.

If a nobleman declines an office to which he has been elected, he is obliged to pay a fine of 2,000 ducats, and is excluded from the great council, and likewiſe from the Broglio, for the ſpace of two years. The nobili are not allowed to hold any lands or fiefs on the terra firma; but gardens and houſes of plea⯑ſure are not included in this prohibition. A noble Venetian, who enters into holy orders, is excluded from the great council, and all public employments; and this law extends even to ſuch as are made knights of Malta. None of the nobility muſt take preſents, penſions, or receive any order of knighthood from foreign ſtates. The relations of ſuch Venetians, as are cardinals, are excluded from all deliberations in the council, reſpecting eccleſiaſtical affairs. No perſon enjoys more than one office at the ſame time, be it ever ſo conſiderable. No one muſt congratulate any perſon, in his obtaining a part in the govern⯑ment, except he is promoted to be Doge or Procu⯑rator of St. Mark; nor muſt he ſolicit any judge, but on criminal proceſſes. In the diviſion of hereditary [283] eſtates, the eldeſt ſon of a noble Venetian has no ad⯑vantage over his younger brothers; by which means ſeveral families are reduced to poverty; eſpecially as they are not allowed to mend their circumſtances by trade or commerce. It is hardly credible, what a mean appearance ſeveral perſons among the nobility make in the ſtreets of Venice, by the ſhabbineſs of their dreſs, &c. Many of them are not able to keep a ſervant; ſo that they are obliged to buy their proviſions, even in the market, and carry them home along the public ſtreets. When there are ſeveral brothers in a family, in order to prevent their falling thus into contempt by their poverty, only one of them marries. But by this practice, not only the increaſe of the nobility is hindered, but a great many ſcanda⯑lous cries are likewiſe propagated among the reſt of the brothers, which are committed at Venice in a moſt flagrant manner, without ſhame or concealment. Keeping a miſtreſs is looked upon as an undoubted privilege belonging to a noble Venetian; and when one, by reaſon of his poverty, cannot keep a miſtreſs for his own uſe alone, he enters into a co-partnerſhip with three or four indigent perſons, who all con⯑tribute to ſupport her, and enjoy her company by turns.

Many people are ſurprized, that in a government ſo very jealous of its power as that of Venice, there [284] is no military eſtabliſhment, within the city, to ſupport the executive power, and repreſs any popular com⯑motion. This is ſuppoſed to proceed from the jea⯑louſy of the government, leſt a few rich and powerful nobles ſhould corrupt the garriſon, and gain over the commander to any ambitious plan of their own, for the deſtruction of the conſtitution.

But although there is no formal garriſon, in a military uniform, there is a real effective force, ſuf⯑ficient to ſuppreſs any popular commotion, at the command of the ſenate and council of ten. This force, beſides the Sbirri, conſiſts of a great number of ſtout fellows; who, without any diſtinguiſhing dreſs, are kept in the pay of government, and are at the command of that council. There is alſo the whole body of the Gondoliers, the moſt hardy and daring of the common Venetians. This body of men are greatly attached to the nobility, from whom they have moſt of their employment, and with whom they ac⯑quire a certain degree of familiarity, by paſſing great part of their time, ſhut up in boats, in their company, and by being privy to many of their love intrigues. Great numbers of theſe Gondoliers are in the ſervice of particular nobles; and there is no doubt that, in caſe of any popular inſurrection, the whole would take the ſide of the nobility and ſenate, againſt the people. In ſhort, they may be conſidered as a kind of ſtanding [285] militia, ready to riſe as ſoon as the government re⯑quired their ſervices.

Laſtly, there is the Grand Council itſelf; which, in caſe of any violent commotion of the citizens and populace, could be armed directly, from the ſmall arſenal within the ducal palace; and would prove a very formidable force againſt an unarmed multitude; for the laws of Venice forbid, under pain of death, any citizen to carry fire-arms; a law which is very exactly executed by the ſtate inquiſitors.

By theſe means, the executive power of govern⯑ment is as irreſiſtible at Venice, as at Peterſburgh, or Conſtantinople.

There is, unqueſtionably, much reflection and great depth of thought, in the formation of the political conſtitution of Venice; but, remark ſome writers, it would be more admirable, if the council of ten, and ſtate inquiſitors, had never formed any part of it. This inſtitution, ſay they, deſtroys the effect of all the reſt, and is worſe than the fixed and permanent tyranny of one perſon; for that perſon's character, and maxims would be known; and, by endeavouring to conform themſelves to his way of thinking, people might have ſome chance of living unmoleſted; but, according to this plan, they have a free-thinker for [286] their tyrant to-day, and a bigot to morrow. One year a ſet of inquiſitors, who conſider certain parts of conduct as innocent; which, in the ſight of their ſucceſſors, may appear ſtate-crimes; ſo that men know not what they have to depend on. A uni⯑verſal jealouſy muſt therefore prevail, and pre⯑cautions will be uſed to avoid the ſuſpicions of go⯑vernment, unknown in any other country. Ac⯑cordingly, we find, that the noble Venetians are afraid of having any intercourſe with foreign Am⯑baſſadors, or with foreigners of any kind; they are even cautious of viſiting at each others houſes, and hardly ever have meetings together, except at the courts, or in the Broglio. The boaſted ſecrecy of their public councils proceeds, in all probability, from the ſame principle of fear. If all converſation on public affairs were forbid, under pain of death, and if the members of the Britiſh parliament were liable to be ſeized in the night, by general warrants, and hanged at Tyburn, or drowned in the Thames, at the pleaſure of the Secretaries of State, the world would know as little of what paſſes in either houſe of parliament, as they do of what is tranſacted in the ſenate of Venice.

It is not ſafe for a noble Venetian to acquire, in a high degree, the love and confidence of the common people. This excites the jealouſy of the inquiſitors, [287] and proves a pretty certain means of excluding him from any of the high offices. A government which diſplays ſo much diſtruſt and ſuſpicion, when there is little or no ground, will not fail to ſhew marks of the ſame diſpoſition, when, in the general opinion, there is ſome reaſon to be circumſpect.

Though it is forbid the nobility and clergy, to hold any communication with ſtrangers upon politics, or affairs of ſtate; yet, it is remarked, that the Gondoliers are exceeding ready to talk upon theſe, or any other ſubjects, with all who give them the ſmalleſt en⯑couragement. Thoſe, who are not in the immediate ſervice of any particular nobleman, are often retained by government, as ſpies upon ſtrangers. It is ſaid, that while theſe fellows row their gondolas, in ſeeming inattention to the converſation, they are taking notice of every thing which is ſaid, that they may report it to their employers, when they imagine it any way concerns the government. As ſoon as a ſtranger arrives, the Gondoliers, who brought him to Venice, repair to a certain office, and give informa⯑tion where they took him up, to what houſe they conducted him, and any other particulars they may have picked up.

The citizens form a reſpectable body in the ſtate; and, though they are excluded from the ſenate, they [288] may hold ſome very lucrative and important offices. By applying to the arts and ſciences, which are en⯑couraged at Venice, they have a fair chance of living agreeably, and laying up a competency for their families. Private property is no where better ſecured than at Venice; and though ſhe no longer enjoys the trade of Aſia, without competitors, yet her commerce is ſtill conſiderable, and many individuals acquire great wealth by trade. The manufactories eſtabliſhed here employ all the induſtrious poor; and prevent that ſqualid beggary, that pilfering and robbery, one or other, or all of which, prevail in moſt other countries of Europe.

Their ſubjects on the terra firma are not at all oppreſſed; the ſenate has found, that mild treatment and good uſage are the beſt policy, and more ef⯑fectual than armies, in preventing revolts. The Po⯑deſtas, therefore, are not allowed to abuſe their power, by treating the people with ſeverity or injuſtice. Thoſe governors know that any complaints produced againſt them, will be ſcrutinized by the ſenate very carefully. This prevents many abuſes of power on their part, and makes the neighbouring prince, which formerly belonged to this ſtate, regret the chance of war, which raviſhed them from the equitable government of their ancient maſters.

[289]The republic is extremely rigid in the obſervance of quarantine; and, conſidering that they border on thoſe countries, where the plague ſo frequently rages, they cannot be too circumſpect. There is not the leaſt connivance ever practiſed; all letters, to whom⯑ſoever directed, are firſt opened by the officers, and then ſmoaked before they are delivered. A few years ſince, a boy got on board one of the veſſels, performing quarantine, and ſtole ſome tobacco; he was purſued into Venice, and ſhot dead in the ſtreets. There are many cuſtom-houſe officers in their boats, watching the veſſels performing quarantine, night and day, who would certainly kill the firſt man who ſhould attempt to go on ſhore before it was expired.

The republic is divided into eleven general go⯑vernments. No nobleman, indebted to the ſtate, is permitted to vote in the ſenate. Commerce, and all menial occupations, are forbidden them. If a noble⯑man is in diſtreſſed circumſtances, he has generally ſome appointment given him by the ſenate.

There is great opportunity for chicanery in the courts of law, as each province has its particular cuſtoms and privileges.

The mode of pleading in their courts of law is very ſingular; and gives their lawyers more the appearance [290] of a demoniac, than of a man endeavouring, by ſound reaſon, to convince the judges and the audience, of the juſtice of his client's cauſe. Every advocate mounts into a ſmall pulpit, where he opens his harangue with ſome gentleneſs, but does not long contain himſelf within thoſe limits; his voice ſoon cracks; and, what is very remarkable, the beginning of moſt ſentences whilſt he is under agitation, or ſeeming enthuſiaſm in pleading, is at a pitch above his na⯑tural voice, ſo as to occaſion a wonderful diſcord; then, if he means to be very emphatical, he ſtrikes the pulpit with his hands, five or ſix times together, as quick as thought; ſtamping, at the ſame time, ſo as to make the great room reſound with this ſpecies of oratory; at length, in the fury of his argument, he deſcends from the pulpit, runs about pleading on the floor, returns in a violent paſſion back again to the pulpit, thwarts it with his hands more than at firſt, and continues in this rage, running up and down the pulpit ſeveral times, till he has finiſhed his harangue. His wig, all this while, ſeems to be in continual danger of dropping from his head, and this not un⯑commonly happens.

This republic has now exiſted above fourteen hund⯑red years; which is the more extraordinary, con⯑ſidering the great number of enemies it has had; and the ruinous and expenſive wars in which it has [291] been engaged. But its power never ſhone with ſo much luſtre, as during the famous league of Cambray, when almoſt all the powers of Europe were combined to its overthrow.

In effect, the Emperor Maximilian, Louis XII. Ferdinand, King of Spain; Henry VIII. King of England; the Pope; all the Princes of Italy; in ſhort, the Grand Turk; all leagued together againſt it, which made it generally ſuppoſed, that its total downfall was at hand. However, its conduct was ſo admirable, that after having loſt a great part of its territories, which it could not defend in its firſt mo⯑ment of attack, it recovered them ſhortly after, and even put to ſlight the Emperor, who had advanced at the head of an army of 200,000 men, in full confi⯑dence to eraſe the very foundations of its capital.

CHAP. VII. Revenue, Army, Navy, &c.

THE annual revenue of the republic is com⯑puted at twenty-ſix millions and a half of French livres, of which the capital alone furniſhes twelve millions. The expenditure is made to amount only to twenty-four millions; conſequently there is an annual ſurplus of two millions of French livres. By a regulation made in the year 1786, half a million is allotted every year for defraying the national debt; the intereſt of which, at that time, amounted to five millions of livres. Three hundred thouſand livres are annually expended in preſents to the Grand Signior, and the piratical ſtates of Barbary. In time of war, both the nobles and the other ſubjects, even the Doge, contribute proportionably to their income, towards defraying the public expences.

In the army, the republic makes little uſe of ſuch of its ſubjects, as live under heavy oppreſſions. The flower of its infantry conſiſts of thirteen regiments of [293] Dalmatians, men of great reſolution, but more expert in the uſe of the ſword than of fire arms. The Swiſs alſo, on occaſion, furniſh 6,000 men to be paid by the republic. Their army is ſaid to conſiſt of 30,000 men. Owing to the jealouſy of the ſuperior officers, ſome diſtinguiſhed foreigner is appointed commander in chief; but to him are joined two proveditori gene⯑rali, without whoſe conſent he can do nothing.

Each province has likewiſe its ſeparate militia; and is, beſides, obliged to furniſh a certain number of its inhabitants, to be exerciſed in the manoeuvres of the artillery.

The naval force of the republic is alſo conſider⯑able; amounting, according to public accounts, to fourteen men of war, twenty galleaſſes, and twenty-five galleys, commanded by a captain-general, who is always one of the principal nobility. Under him is the proveditore generale di mare, and other great officers.

In time of war, it is ſaid, the Venetians can equip near thirty ſhips of the line. In time of peace, there are 12 or 14,000 ſailors employed; which, in war time, may be increaſed to 30,000, from the pro⯑vinces of Dogado and Iſtria.

Venice formerly held the firſt rank among the trading cities, or rather the trading nations of Eu⯑rope; and her declenſion, from ſo brilliant an honour, [294] is chiefly owing to two cauſes; the diſcovery of the Cape of Good Hope, and the prohibiting of the no⯑bility from commerce.

Before the diſcovery of the Cape of Good Hope, ſhe was the ſtaple both of Europe and Aſia, the broker for all the various ſorts of merchandize, within the commerce of thoſe two parts of the world; and likewiſe the bank of that opulence, by which it is carried on; in a word, with only the Piſans and Genoeſe, for competitors, ſhe ſupplied all that Hol⯑land, England, and France do at preſent; allowing, however, for the increaſe produced by luxury.

This commerce made the greater figure, as it was carried on by the nobility, and the firſt houſes of the ſtate; which, being governed by the ſpirit of thoſe houſes, had in its wars, conqueſts, and treaties, its principal eye on the proſperity of trade.

What a difference between ſuch a ſpirit, and that of the chief ſtates of Europe, at the very ſame time! Among them, trade was left to the Jews and Lombards; the ſovereigns, and every petty lord of our northern counties, looking on it as no more than an expedient, which they daily made uſe of, by heavy impoſitions, to enrich their trea⯑ſury, and which they often drained by extraordinary burdens, of which hiſtory furniſhes too many in⯑ſtances. [295] Theſe loſſes, however, the Lombards and Jews made up by the enormous uſuries, which ſove⯑reigns uſed to connive at, in hopes of coming in for a ſhare. Hence the general contempt and deteſ⯑tation for trade, or thoſe who followed it. Hence, likewiſe, the principles then laid down by the ſchool⯑men, concerning uſury; principles in which all the revolutions in the ſeveral branches of commerce have not yet made any change, in nations, who in other reſpects are not wanting in perſpicacity. How very different were the ideas of thoſe dark ages, from thoſe which the author of the nobleſſe commercante has placed in ſo ſtrong a light! As the latter have gained ground in the reſt of Europe, they have declined at Venice; which now makes no leſs difference between a nobleman and trader, than a native of France does between a peer and a ſhoeblack.

Towards the beginning of the fifteenth century, the plain old faſhioned ideas being ſuperceded by the chimera of military glory, the ſyſtem of the re⯑public underwent a great change; ſhe aſpired to conqueſts without any regard to commerce; and this romantic nation alienated the nobility from trade, which had ever made their moſt ſolid greatneſs; and the republic was brought to the very brink of ruin.

[296]She has, indeed, preſerved part of theſe ambitious conqueſts, but it was by efforts which have quite ex⯑hauſted her. Yet, it is ſtill that ſame trade which upholds the noble houſes againſt the debaſement they imagine inherent in commerce; the greater part of their money is either in trade or bank. Printing, originally ſet up at Venice, by N. Janſſon, a French⯑man, though not flouriſhing in that proſperity, to which the abilities, induſtry, and diſintereſtedneſs of the Manutii, the Giuntii, the Giolitos, the Bevilacquas, &c. raiſed it, ſtill makes one of the chief branches of the trade of Venice. Several noble houſes place their money in this trade clandeſtinely, and with a view of lucre; diſtantly imitating the Societa Palatina, compoſed of the principal noblemen of Milan, who formed and openly keep it up, for the good of litera⯑ture, and the improvement of the ſciences; motions which the higheſt nobility need not conceal.

By means of the ſumptuary laws, the manufactures of the Venetian territory anſwer its conſumption; and, agreeable to the ſpirit of the government, they are rather ſolid than ſhowy: no country in Europe makes better velvets, or ſilk ſtockings. Its looking-glaſſes and galloons, which were formerly vended all over Europe, now go only to the Levant. The reputation of its treacle is at its ancient height, which it owes to the apparatus and form with which [297] it was compoſed, and under the eye of the very Signiory itſelf. Preſents of this treacle are con⯑ſidered of value by the Venetian Ambaſſadors at the ſeveral courts of Europe. The wax, which Venice brings from Dalmatia, Greece, and all the Levant, employs many manufactories; where, after being whitened, it is made into candles, the very fineſt of which, is no more than about fifteen pence a pound. As to foreign commerce, there is ſcarce any thing done in it, except in fine linens and cali⯑coes from Switzerland; and cotton, and dying drugs from the Levant, which it ſends to Switzerland. This trade is chiefly in the hands of Swiſs houſes, ſettled at Venice. There is not, indeed, a nation without ſome conſiderable houſes here. The trade of theſe houſes begin with the country from whence they came; but in a little time declining, either for want of ſupport, or the difficulty of intercourſe, they give into the Venetian ſchemes, and generally turn to banking.

The bank of Venice, called the bank of the Rialto, ſays Sharp, is a very ſmall office, and the whole buſineſs tranſacted by a few clerks, who ſit in a ſmall room, like an open booth, which faces the Ex⯑change. The buſineſs of the bank may aptly be compared to that of a banker in England, where merchants depoſit a large ſum of money, and draw [298] upon the ſhop for their diſburſements. At Venice, every bill of exchange, above a hundred ſilver ducats, that is ſo many times three ſhillings and fourpence, muſt be paid at the bank. This method, in ſo large and commercial a city as London, would be very in⯑convenient; but here is very uſeful, as a transfer is finiſhed in half a minute, which ſaves the trouble of weighing and examining the coin; a precaution ab⯑ſolutely neceſſary in this country, where many of the ſequins are light; beſides, that no chicanery can be practiſed in caſe the receipt is loſt, the transfer being a ſufficient proof of the payment. It may preſumed too, that the republic has ſome private views in this ordinance, beſides the benefit of the merchants; for ſhould any ſudden emergency of the ſtates occur, they have a quantity of each in their hands for im⯑mediate uſe.

With reſpect to the ſtate of religion, and the clergy, in the countries of the republic, the eſtabliſhed re⯑ligion is that of the Roman Catholic; but Greeks, Americans, and Jews, are allowed the public exer⯑ciſe of their worſhip; and Proteſtants, obſerving privacy, remain unmoleſted. At the head of the church government, is the Patriarch of Venice; the chief eccleſiaſtic in the republic. He is always ſelected from among the nobility, and choſen by the ſenate; and, though confirmed by the Pope, muſt, in [299] other reſpects, be independent of the papal chair. He is Primate of Dalmatia, and other provinces on the continent; his power and dignity, however, are but of little weight, having only the diſpoſal of two benefices in the city of Venice, and being little re⯑garded by the clergy out of it; who depend immedi⯑ately on the ſenate, or are choſen by their reſpective congregations.

Though this republic has long maintained a ſort of independence from the court of Rome, having ſhewn themſelves weary of the Jeſuits, two hundred years before any other potentate diſmiſſed them; while many of the Venetian populace followed them about, crying andate, andate, niente pigliate, emai ritornate; begone, begone, ſteal nothing, never, never come back again; and, although there is a patriarch here, who is attentive to keep his clergy from ever meddling with, or even mentioning affairs of ſtate, as in ſuch a caſe the republic would not ſcruple puniſhing them as laymen; yet has Venice kept St. Peter's boat from ſinking more than once, when ſhe ſaw the Pope's territories endangered, or his ſovereignty inſulted; nor is there any city more eminent for the decorum, with which divine ſervice is adminiſtered, or the decent behaviour of individuals, when any ſacred office is performing. She has ever behaved like a true chriſtian potentate, keeping her faith firm, and [300] her honour ſcrupulouſly clear, in all treaties and con⯑ventions with other ſtates; fewer inſtances being given of Venetian falſhood or treachery towards neighbour⯑ing nations, than of any other European power.

Venice, ſay ſome writers, is the paradiſe of Monks. They go maſqued during the carnival, frequent the theatres, keep miſtreſſes; and do, in ſhort, juſt what they pleaſe. Of all the catholic countries, there is none where eccleſiaſtical diſcipline is more re⯑laxed. Several of the biſhops have, in vain, at⯑tempted to reform theſe ſcandalous abuſes. It is, however, aſſerted, perhaps not without foundation, that government oppoſes ſuch commendable projects, that the clergy may not, by theſe means, have too great influence over the minds of the people.

CHAP. VIII. Of Venetian Dalmatia.

IN the fifteenth century, the Venetians reduced the whole kingdom of Dalmatia; though they have ſince been diſpoſſeſſed by the Turks of a conſi⯑derable part. At preſent, the Hungarians, Venetians, Raguſans, and Turks, ſhare it among them. That part of Dalmatia which belongs to the Venetians, ſays Buſching, abounds in caſtles and fortified places, but few are of modern ſtructure. It comprehends the province of Murlachia, part of the ancient Li⯑burnia; a country full of high mountains, extending from Zengh to Zara; being in length fifteen German miles, and in breadth between five and ſix. Some of the inhabitants of this part of Dalmatia are, indeed, under the protection of Hungary; others are de⯑ſcendants of the Venetians; but there is hardly a place of any ſtrength in Dalmatia, which is not go⯑verned [302] by the Murlachians. Dalmatians uſe the Sclavonian language and cuſtoms, and profeſs the Roman Catholic religion.

The rivers in Dalmatia have no long courſe, but they are moſtly navigable. The country is, as it were, entirely ſtrewed with mountains, but theſe not unfruitful; olives, vines, myrtles, and a great variety of palatable and wholeſome vegetables growing upon them, beſides treaſures of gold and ſilver ore within them. It has alſo many fertile plains; and, beſides a ſufficiency of horned cattle, feeds largo flocks of ſheep. The air is temperate and pure.

The principal towns, in this part of Dalmatia, are Zara, Sibenico, Spalatro, Trace, and Raguſa; the latter, a kind of independent city, with a ſmall terri⯑tory, under the protection of the republic of Venice.

Zara, the principal town in Venetian Dalmatia, is ſurrounded on all ſides by the ſea, except a com⯑munication it has eaſtward with the continent, by means of a draw-bridge, commanded by a fort. It is reckoned one of the beſt fortifications in Dalmatia, and deemed almoſt impregnable. The citadel is divided from the town, by a very deep ditch, hewn out of the rock. The harbour, which is to the North, is capacious, ſafe, and well guarded. The [303] rain is carefully preſerved in ciſterns, to ſupply the want of freſh water. In the caſtle reſides the go⯑vernor of Dalmatia; whoſe office is only triennial. It was formerly only a biſhop's ſee; but, in 1114, an archbiſhop was eſtabliſhed here. Near the church, which the Greeks call St. Helia, are two handſome fluted columns, of the Corinthian order; ſuppoſed to have been part of the temple of Juno. This place was heretofore much more conſiderable, than at preſent; the circumference of the walls being now but two miles, and the number of the inhabitants, not above 6,000. There are very fine paintings in the churches, done by the beſt maſters; and they pretend to have the body of St. Simeon, which was brought from Judea, and is kept in a ſhrine, with a cryſtal before it.

Sibenico is likewiſe a very ſtrong town, on the gulph of Venice, twenty-five miles ſouth-eaſt of Zara; having four citadels, and a very large harbour. The cathedral of St. John, in the caſtle, is a fine marble ſtructure. Ever ſince the be⯑ginning of the fifteenth century, it has been under the dominion of the Venetians, though it has been no leſs than four times beſieged by the Turks. This town, ſays Abbe Fortis, is famous for the number of men of letters it has produced.

[304]Spalatro is a rich, populous, and ſtrong town, on the ſame coaſt, thirty-ſeven miles South-eaſt of Se⯑benico, with a good harbour; and is the ſee of an archbiſhop, who is primate of Dalmatia and Croatia. It is built upon the ruins of the caſtle of Diocleſian, and its walls make two-thirds of thoſe of the city; its temple likewiſe is the cathedral church. This place is the ſtaple where all merchandize, paſſing from Turkey into Italy, muſt be tranſported. Near the harbour, which is very large and deep, is erected a very large Lazaretto, for performing quarantine. Among the Roman antiquities to be ſeen here, Dio⯑cleſian's palace is particularly worth viewing. This city, ever ſince the year 1420, has continued firm to the Venetians.

Trace is another ſtrong and populous town, on the coaſt of Dalmatia, belonging to the republic. It is ſituated in a ſmall iſland, joined to the main land by a long bridge of wood; and to the iſle of Bua, by another of ſtone. It lies fifteen miles eaſt of Spalatro. Nothing can be pleaſanter than the ſitua⯑ation of Trace: the north-ſide is covered with beauti⯑ful gardens; and, on the iſland of Bua, it has very very fine ſuburbs. It is the reſidence of the Ve⯑netian Proveditor, who bears the title of Count. The harbour, which is formed by a bay, has depth of water enough for the largeſt ſhips; which ride [305] there ſheltered by two capes. It was an ancient Roman colony of the Emperor Claudius; and, ſo early as the year 997, put itſelf under the protection of Venice; on which it has been continually de⯑pendent, ever ſince the year 1420; though not without many changes and diſaſtrous revolutions.

Raguſa is not very large in circumference, but it is, nevertheleſs, well built; and is the ſeat of a re⯑public, and of an archbiſhop's ſee. It extends to⯑wards the ſea; and both the city and harbour are defended by fort St. Lorenzo. Were the rock of of Chiroma, which lies in the ſea, and belongs to the Venetians, fortified, it would be impregnable. The air is wholeſome, but the ſoil ſo barren, that the in⯑habitants receive the greateſt part of their neceſſaries from the neighbouring Turkiſh provinces. The cir⯑cumjacent iſlands are all fertile, pleaſant, well in⯑habited, and embelliſhed with fine towns, ſtately palaces, and beautiful gardens. This city lies one hundred and two miles South-eaſt of Spolatro.

The government, of this city and ſtate, is ariſto⯑cratic; and formed nearly after the model of that of Venice. It is in the hands of the nobility; who are, at preſent, greatly diminiſhed. The chief of the republic, who is ſtiled rector, is changed every month, and elected by ſcrutiny, or lot. Du⯑ring [306] his adminiſtration, he lives in the palace, wears a ducal habit; namely, a long ſilk robe, with white ſleeves, and his ſalary is five ducats a month; but if he is one of the Pregadi, he receives a ducat per day. Next to him is the council of ten. In the great council all noblemen, above twenty years of age, are admitted; and, in this council alſo, are choſen the perſons who conſtitute the board of the Pregadi. Theſe laſt ſuperintend all affairs, civil and military; diſpoſe of all employments, and re⯑ceive and ſend envoys. The revenues of the re⯑public are ſaid to have amounted, formerly, to a ton of gold; but, being unable to defend itſelf, they have procured ſeveral protectors; the principal of whom is the Grand Signior. It is ſaid, they pay tribute to the Turks out of fear; to the Venetians, out of hatred; and to the Pope, Emperor, Spain, and Naples, out of reſpect, and political views. The tribute to the Porte, with the expence of the annual embaſſy, is about 20,000 zequins. The Turks are very ſerviceable to them; bringing hither all kinds of neceſſaries, eſpecially fire-arms and military ſtores.

They keep ſo watchful an eye over their freedom, that the gates of the city of Raguſa are allowed to be open only a few hours in the day. They wholly profeſs the Catholic religion, but the Greek, Arme⯑nian, and Turkiſh perſuaſions, are tolerated among [307] them for convenience. The language, chiefly in uſe among the Raguſans, is the Sclavonian; but the greater part of them ſpeak alſo the Italian. The citizens are, almoſt to a man, traders; and this place diſtinguiſhes itſelf by the fineneſs of its manufactures. Silk is allowed to be worn here only by the rector, nobles, and doctors.

CHAP. IX. Of the Cuſtoms and Manners of the Morlacchi.

A Pretty full account of the ſingular cuſtoms and manners of the Morlacchi, a race of people inhabiting the mountains of Venetian Dalmatia, and until the Abbe Fortis penetrate that country, but little known to the reſt of Europe, will, we flatter ourſelves, not appear unintereſting to our readers.

There is not only a great difference in dialect, dreſs, diſpoſition, and cuſtoms, between the maritime and tranſalpine inhabitants of Dalmatia, ſays Abbe [308] Fortis; but even a remarkable diverſity, among the Morlacchi themſelves, in ſeveral diſtricts; derived, perhaps, from the different countries from whence they come. The inhabitants of Cotar are generally fair, with blue eyes, a broad face, and flat noſe; but thoſe of Vergoraz have dark coloured hair, a long face, tawny colour, and tall ſtature. The qualities of their mind are alſo as different, as thoſe of the body; for, the Morlacchi of Cotar are generally mild, re⯑ſpectful, and tractable; but thoſe of Vergoraz are ſurly, proud, bold, and enterprizing. They have alſo a ſtrong inclination to theft; owing, in part, to their ſituation among barren and inacceſſible moun⯑tains. Among the artful and bold ſtrokes of knavery, which they tell of one of theſe Vergozani, the fol⯑lowing is characteriſtic. The rogue was at a fair; and a countryman having bought a copper kettle, laid it down, together with his bundle, juſt by his ſide; the Vergoroon, who ſtood hard by, took up the kettle, while the peaſant was talking to an ac⯑quaintance, and ſet it on his head, without ſtirring from his place; the other, having finiſhed his con⯑ference, turned about to take up his things, but the kettle was gone; and aſking him, who had it on his head, if he had not ſeen ſomebody carry it off, he was anſwered: "Truly friend, I was not minding theſe things, but if you had put your kettle on your head, as you ſee I did, you would not have loſt it." [309] Yet, notwithſtanding theſe miſchievous tricks, which are frequent enough, a ſtranger may travel ſecurely among them, and will be hoſpitably treated.

The greateſt danger is from the Haiduks, of whom great numbers have retreated among the woods, and caves, of thoſe dreadful mountains on the confines. They lead their life among wolves, wandering from one precipice to another, agitated by continual fears and ſuſpicions, expoſed to the ſeverity of the ſeaſons; and, often deprived of the neceſſaries of life, languiſh in the moſt ſolitary hideous caverns. Were ſuch men to commit acts of violence, irritated by the con⯑ſtant view of their miſerable ſituation, it would be no wonder; yet they ſeldom diſturb the tranquility of others, and prove always faithful guides to travellers. The chief objects of their rapine are oxen and ſheep, to ſupply themſelves with food and ſhoes. It happens ſometimes, in their extreme neceſſity, that the Hai⯑duks go in parties to the ſhepherds cottages, and readily demand ſomething to eat, which they immedi⯑ately take by force, if the leaſt heſitation is made; though they ſeldom meet with a refuſal, or reſiſtance, as their reſolution and fury are well known to be equal to their wants, and the ſavage life they lead. Four Haiduks are not afraid to aſſault a caravan of fifteen or twenty Turks; and generally plunder and put them to flight. When a Haiduk happens to be [310] taken by the Panduri, they do not bind him as our ſbirri are uſed to do, ſays Abbe Fortis; but, untying the ſtrings of his breeches, they fall down on his heels, and prevent a poſſibility of eſcape.

The morals of a Morlach, ſays the Abbe, at a diſ⯑tance from the ſea-coaſt, and garriſons, are very dif⯑ferent from thoſe of the Italians. The ſincerity, truſt, and honeſty, of thoſe poor people, not only in contracts, but in all the ordinary actions of their life, would be called ſimplicity and weakneſs among us. The Morlach, naturally hoſpitable and generous, opens his poor cottage to the ſtranger, and ſerves him, to the utmoſt of his power, without demanding, nay, often obſtinately refuſing, the leaſt recompence; and I have more than once, adds the Abbe, got a dinner from one of thoſe men, who knew nothing about me, had never before ſeen me, and could not expect ever to ſee me again.

The Morlacchi are extremely ſenſible of mild treatment; and, when they meet with it, are ready to perform every poſſible ſervice, and to become cordial friends. Their hoſpitality is equally conſpicuous among the poor, as among the more opulent. The rich prepares a roaſted lamb, or ſheep; and the poor, with equal cordiality, gives his turkey, milk, honey, or whatever elſe he has. Nor is their generoſity con⯑fined [311] to ſtrangers; but generally extends itſelf to all who are in want.

When a Morlach is on a journey, and comes to lodge at a friend's houſe, the eldeſt daughter of the family, or the new married bride, if there happens to be one, receives and kiſſes him when he alights from his horſe, or at the door of the houſe. But a fo⯑reigner is rarely favoured with theſe female civilities; on the contrary, the women, if they are young, hide themſelves, and keep out of his way. Perhaps more than one violation of the laws of hoſpitality has made them thus reſerved to ſtrangers.

While there is any thing to eat in the houſe of thoſe villagers, the poor of the neighbourhood are welcome to partake of it; and hence it is, that no Morlach ever humbles himſelf to aſk alms of a paſſenger. I, indeed, ſays Abbe Fortis, have often been forced to aſk ſomething from poor ſhepherds, but I always found them liberal; and many times, in travelling through the fields, in the heat of ſummer, I have met poor reapers, who, of their own accord, preſented me with their flaſks to drink, and offered me a part of their ruſtic proviſions, with an affecting cordiality.

The Morlacchi, in general, have little notion of domeſtic oeconomy; and readily conſume, in a week, [312] as much as would be ſufficient for ſeveral months, when any occaſion of merriment preſents itſelf. Yet, the Morlach is a great economiſt, in the uſe of his wearing apparel; for, rather than ſpoil his new cap, he takes it off, let it rain ever ſo hard, and goes bareheaded in the ſtorm. In the ſame manner he treats his ſhoes, if the road be dirty, and they not very old. Nothing but an abſolute impoſſibility hinders a Morlach from being punctual; and if he cannot repay the money he borrowed, at the ap⯑pointed time, he carries a ſmall preſent to his creditor, and requeſts a longer term. Thus it happens, ſome⯑times, that from term to term, and preſent to pre⯑ſent, he pays double what he owed, without reflecting on it.

Friendſhip, that among other nations is ſo ſubject to change, on the ſlighteſt motives, is laſting among the Morlacchi. They have even made it a kind of religious point, and tie the ſacred bond at the foot of the altar. The Sclavonian ritual contains a particular benediction, for the ſolemn union of two male, or two female friends, in the preſence of the congregation. I was preſent, ſays Abbe Fortis, at the union of two young women, who were made Poſeſtre, in the church of Peneſſich. The ſatisfaction that ſparkled in their eyes, when the ceremony was performed, gave a convincing proof, that delicacy of ſentiments [313] can lodge in minds not formed, or rather not cor⯑rupted, by that ſociety, which we call civilized. The male friends, thus united, are called Pobratimi; and the male ſiſters, Poſeſtreme; which means half brothers and half ſiſters. The duties of the Pobratimi are to aſſiſt each other, in every caſe of need or danger; to revenge mutual wrongs, and the like. The enthuſiaſm is often carried ſo far as to riſk, and even to loſe their life for the Pobratimi. If diſ⯑cord happens to ariſe between two friends, it is mentioned all over the country, as a ſcandalous no⯑velty; and there have been ſome examples of it, of late years, to the great affliction of the old Morlac⯑chi; who attribute the depravation of their country⯑men, to their intercourſe with the Italians.

The natural vivacity, and enterprizing ſpirit of the Morlacchi, qualify them to ſucceed in any kind of employment. In particular, they make excellent ſoldiers; and, towards the end of the laſt century, performed ſignal ſervice under the brave Venetian General Dalfino; who conquered an important tract of country belonging to the Porte, chiefly by their means. They alſo become very expert in the di⯑rection of mercantile buſineſs; and eaſily learn to read and write, even after they are grown up.

[314]Notwithſtanding their excellent diſpoſition to learn every art, the Morlacchi have the moſt imperfect no⯑tions of huſbandry; and are very unſkilful in the ma⯑nagement of their cattle, and in curing diſeaſes. They have a ſingular veneration for old cuſtoms; and little care has hitherto been taken, either to remove their prejudices, or to teach them better methods. Their ploughs, and other rural utenſils, ſeem to be of the moſt rude invention. They make cheeſe, butter, and cream-cheeſe too, in their way. The taylor's art is confined to ancient and unalterable patterns, which are always cut from the ſame kind of cloth; ſo that any difference in the uſual breadth would quite diſconcert a Morlach taylor. They have ſome notions of dying, and their colours are not deſpi⯑cable. Their black is made of the bark of the aſh-tree, laid in warm water for eight days, with ſome iron droſs, which they gather from the blackſmiths forges; they then make uſe of this water, when cold, to give the colour. They alſo extract a fine blue from the infuſion of wood, dried in the ſhade, in a lie of aſhes, well purified; they let this mixture boil ſeveral hours, and tinge the cloth in the water, when cold. Scodanus, by them called Rez, gives yellow and brown; they alſo obtain a yellow from the Evoni⯑mus, known there by the name of Puzzolina.

[315]Almoſt all the Morlach women are ſkilful in works of embroidery, and knitting. Their embroidery is curious, and exactly the ſame on both ſides. They alſo make a ſort of knit, or net-work, very curious; which they chiefly uſe as a kind of buſkin to their ſlippers and brogues. They are in no want of looms to weave their ſerge, and other coarſe cloth; but the women have not much time to apply to theſe things, their offices among the Morlacchi, not admitting ſedentary labours.

In ſome of their villages they make earthern ware, very coarſe indeed, but very durable.

The Morlachs, whether they happen to be of the Roman, or of the Greek church, have very ſingular ideas about religion; and the ignorance of their teachers daily augments this monſtrous evil. They are as firmly perſuaded of the reality of witches, fairies, enchantments, nocturnal apparitions, and ſor⯑cilage, as if they had ſeen a thouſand examples of them. Nor do they make the leaſt doubt about the exiſtence of Vampires; and attribute to them, as in Tranſilvania, the ſucking the blood of infants. There⯑fore, when a man dies, ſuſpected of becoming a Vampire, or Vutrodlach, as they call it, they cut his hams, and prick his whole body with pins; pretend⯑ing, that after this operation, he cannot walk about. [316] There are even inſtances of Morlacchi, who, ima⯑gining they may poſſibly thirſt for children's blood after death, intreat their heirs, and ſometimes oblige them, to promiſe to treat them as a vampire, when they die.

The boldeſt Haiduk would fly trembling from the apparition of a ſpectre, ghoſt, phantom, or ſuch like goblins as the heated imagination of credulous and pre-poſſeſſed people never fail to ſee. Nor are they aſhamed, when ridiculed for this terror; but anſwer much in the words of Pindar:—"Fear that proceeds from ſpirits, cauſes even the ſons of the gods to fly." The women, as may be naturally ſuppoſed, are a hundred times more timorous and viſionary than the men; and ſome of them, by frequently hearing them⯑ſelves called witches, actually believe they are ſo. The old witches are acquainted with many ſpells; and one of the moſt frequent is, to transfer the milk of other people's cows to their own.

A moſt perfect diſcord reigns in Morlacchi, as it generally does in other parts, between the Latin and Greek communion, which their reſpective prieſts fail not to foment, and tell a thouſand little ſcandalous ſtories of each other. The churches of the Latins are poor, and ſhamefully ill kept. I have ſeen, ſays the Abbe, the curate of a Morlach village, ſitting on [317] the ground in the church yard, to hear the confeſſions of women, on their knees, by his ſide; a ſtrange picture indeed! but a proof of the innocent manners of theſe good people, who have the moſt profound veneration for their ſpiritual paſtors, and a total de⯑pendence on them; who, for their part, frequently make uſe of a diſcipline rather military, and correct the bodies of their offending flock with the cudgel. Perhaps this particular is carried to an abuſe, as well as that of public penance, which they pretend to inflict after the manner of the ancient church. Far⯑ther, through the ſilly credulity of theſe poor moun⯑taineers, they draw illicit profits, by ſelling certain ſuperſtitious ſcrolls, and other ſcandalous merchan⯑dize of that kind.

Innocence, and the natural liberty of paſtoral ages, ſays Fortis, are ſtill preſerved among the Mor⯑lacchi. Pure cordiality of ſentiment is not there re⯑ſtrained by other regards, and diſplays itſelf without any diſtinction of circumſtances. A handſome young Morlach girl, who meets a man of her diſtrict, on the road, kiſſes him affectionately, without the leaſt immodeſt thought; and, I have ſeen all the women and girls, all the young men and old, kiſſing one another as they came into the church-yard on a holiday; ſo that they looked as if they had been all belonging to one family. I have often obſerved [318] the ſame thing on the road; and, at the fairs, in the maritime towns, where the Morlacchi came to ſell their commodities. In times of feaſting and merri⯑ment, ſome other little liberties are taken, which we ſhould not reckon decent, but which are not minded among them; and when they are told of it, they an⯑ſwer, it is only toying, and means nothing. From this toying, however, their amours often take their beginning, and frequently end ſeriouſly, when the two lovers are once agreed. For it very rarely happens, that a Morlacco carries off a girl againſt her will, or diſhonours her; and were ſuch attempts made, the young woman would, no doubt, be able to defend herſelf, the women in that country being generally very little leſs robuſt than the men. But the cuſtom is, for the woman herſelf to appoint the time and place of being carried off; and ſhe does ſo, in order to extricate herſelf from other ſuitors, from whom ſhe may have received ſome love-token; ſuch as a braſs ring, a little knife, or ſuch like trifles.

The dreſs of the Morlach women is different in dif⯑ferent parts of the country; but it appears every where ſtrange to an European. That of the unmar⯑ried women is the moſt complex and whimſical, in reſpect to the ornaments of the head; for, when married, they are not allowed to wear any thing elſe but a handkerchief, either white or coloured, tied [319] about it. The girls wear a ſcarlet cap, to which they commonly hang a veil, falling down on their ſhoul⯑ders. The better ſort adorn their caps with ſtrings of ſilver coins; they have ear-rings of very curious work, and ſmall ſilver chains, with the figures of half moons faſtened to the end of them. The principal merit of theſe caps, which conſtitute the good taſte, as well as vanity of the Morlach young ladies, is to attend and fix the eyes of all who are near them, by the multitude of ornaments, and the noiſe they make, on the leaſt motion of their heads. In ſome diſtricts they fix tufts of various coloured feathers, reſembling two horns on their caps; at others, tremulous plumes of ſpun-glaſs; and in others, artificial flowers, which they purchaſe in the ſea-port towns; and it muſt be confeſſed, that in the variety of theſe capricious and barbarous ornaments, ſometimes a fancy, not inele⯑gant, is diſplayed. Their holiday ſhifts are em⯑broidered with red ſilk, and ſometimes with gold, which they work themſelves, while they attend their flocks; and, it is ſurprizing to ſee how nicely their work is executed. Both old and young women wear about their necks large ſtrings of round glaſs beads, of various ſizes and colours; and many rings of braſs, tin, or ſilver, on their fingers. Their bracelets are of leather, covered with wrought tin, or ſilver; and they embroider their ſtomachers, or adorn them with beads, or ſhells. But the uſe of ſtays is unknown; [320] nor do they put iron or whalebone in the ſtomacher. A broad woollen girdle ſurrounds their petticoat; which is commonly decked with ſhells of a blue colour, and therefore called Modrina. Their gown, as well as petticoat, is a kind of ſerge; and both reach near to the ancle; the gown is bordered with ſcarlet, and called Sadak. They uſe no Modrina in ſummer; and only wear the Sadak, without ſleeves, over a linen petticoat, or ſhift. The girls always wear red ſtockings, and their ſhoes are, like thoſe of the men, called Opanke. The ſole is of undreſſed ox⯑hide, and the upper part, of ſheep's ſkin thongs knitted, which they call apute; and theſe they faſten above the ankles, ſomething like the ancient co⯑thurnus.

The unmarried women, even of the richeſt fa⯑milies, are not permitted to wear any other ſort of ſhoes; though, after marriage, they may, if they pleaſe, lay aſide the opanke, and uſe Turkiſh ſlippers. The girls keep their hair treſſed under their caps; but, when married, they let it fall diſhevelled on their breaſt; ſometimes they tie it under the chin; and always have medals, beads, or bored coins, in the Tartar or American mode, twiſted amongſt it. An unmarried woman, who falls under the imputation of want of chaſtity, runs the riſk of having her red cap torn off publicly in church, by the curate, and her [321] hair cut by ſome relation in token of infamy. Hence if any of them happen to fall into an illicit amour, they commonly, of their own accord, lay aſide the badge of virginity, and remove into another part of the country.

CHAP. X. Of their Marriages, Funerals, &c.

NOTHING is more common among the Mor⯑lacchi, than marriages concluded between the the old people of the reſpective families; eſpecially where the parties live at a great diſtance, and nei⯑ther ſee, nor know each other; and the ordinary mo⯑tive of theſe alliances is, the ambition of being re⯑lated to a numerous and powerful family, famous for having produced valliant men. The father of the future bridegroom, or ſome other near relation, of mature age, goes to aſk the young woman, or rather a young woman of ſuch a family, not having com⯑monly any determinate choice. Upon this all the girls [322] in the houſe are ſhewn to him, and he chuſes which pleaſes him beſt; though generally reſpecting the rights of ſeniority. A denial, in ſuch a caſe, is very rare; nor does the father of the maid enquire much into the circumſtances of the family that aſks her. Sometimes a daughter of the maſter is given in mar⯑riage to the ſervant, or tenant, as was uſual in the pa⯑triarchal times. On theſe occaſions, however, the Morlacchi girls enjoy a privilege, which ours would alſo wiſh to have; as, in juſtice, they certainly ought. For he who acts by proxy, having obtained his ſuit, is obliged to go and bring the bridegroom; and if, on ſeeing each other, the young people are reciprocally content, then the marriage is concluded, but not otherwiſe. In ſome parts, it is the cuſtom for the bride to go and ſee the houſe and family of her pro⯑poſed huſband, before ſhe gives a definitive anſwer; and if the place, or perſons, are diſagreeable to her, ſhe is at liberty to break the contract. But if ſhe be contented, ſhe returns to her father's houſe, eſcorted by the bridegroom and neareſt relations. There the marriage day is fixed; on which the bridegroom comes to the bride's houſe, attended by all his friends of greateſt note, who, on this occaſion, are called Svati, and are all armed, and on horſeback, in their holiday cloaths, with a peacock's feather in their cap, which is the diſtinctive ornament uſed by thoſe who [323] are invited to weddings. The company goes armed to repulſe any attack, or ambuſh, that might be in⯑tended to diſturb the feaſt. For in old times theſe encounters were not unfrequent, according to the records of many national heroic ſongs. In one of theſe is told the ſtory of Janco Vojvod, of Sebigne, cotemporary with the famous George Caſtriolich, named Scanderberg, and betrothed to Jagna, of Temeſwar; whoſe brothers, being not his friends, when he came to conclude the marriage, engaged him in the punc⯑tilio of performing ſeveral feats, upon condition, that if he ſucceeded, he was to have the bride; if not, he was to loſe his life. Theſe were, as the ſong relates, that he was to pierce an apple, ſtuck on the point of a ſpear, with his dart, at a certain diſtance; then he was to ſpring over nine horſes, placed one beſide another, at one leap; and, laſtly, to diſcover his future ſpouſe, among nine young women, all covered with veils. Janco, it ſeems, was a valiant ſoldier, but not expert in ſuch trials of ſkill; however, his nephew undertook them in his place, and no ob⯑jection was made, as they ſay, is the cuſtom in a certain iſland, to hire one to fight for another at a boxing match. The expedient made uſe of by Ze⯑culo, Janco's nephew, to know the bride among the other nine young women, was ſingular, and merits a prolongation of our digreſſion. He opened his mantle on the ground, threw a handful of gold rings [324] on it, and then gallantly addreſſed the ladies as fol⯑lows: "Lovely maid, who art deſtined to be Janco's wife, do thou pick up theſe gold rings and wear them; but if any other dares to touch one of them, I will cut off her arm at a blow." The nine young women were very naturally afraid of the danger, and did not chuſe to advance; ſo Janco's bride collected the rings, and thus the nuptial games were finiſhed. When, upon trials of this nature, one of the parties found himſelf excluded, and another preferred, as he thought, unjuſtly, he commonly had recourſe to arms for redreſs; and much blood was often ſhed in thoſe combats; and many tombs of the ancient Sclavi are ſtill to be ſeen in the woods, and deſert places of Mor⯑lacchi, whereon theſe feuds are engraved in coarſe bas-relief.

The bride is conducted to a church, veiled, and ſurrounded by the Svati on horſeback; and the ſacred ceremony is performed amidſt the noiſe of muſkets, piſtols, barbarous ſhouts, and acclamations, which continue till ſhe returns to her father's houſe, or to that of her huſband, if not far off.

The firſt day's entertainment is ſometimes made at the bride's houſe, but generally at the bridegroom's. The Domachin, or head of the houſe, comes out to meet his daughter-in-law, and a child is handed to [325] her, before ſhe alights, to careſs it; and if there happens to be none in the houſe, the child is bor⯑rowed from one of the neighbours. When ſhe alights, ſhe kneels down, and kiſſes the threſhold. Then the mother-in-law, or in her place ſome other female rela⯑tion, preſents a corn ſieve, full of different kinds of grain, nuts, almonds, and other ſmall fruit, which the bride ſcatters upon the Svati, by handfuls, behind her back. The bride does not ſit at the great table the firſt day, but has one apart for herſelf. The bride⯑groom ſits at table with the Svati; but in all that day, conſecrated to the matrimonial union, he muſt neither unlooſe, nor cut any thing whatever. The Knum, or Sponſor, carries his meat, and cuts his bread. The Domachin gives the toaſts. Generally the Bukkara, a very large wooden cup, goes round, firſt to the Saint, protector of the family; next to the proſperity of the holy faith; and ſometimes, to a name the moſt ſublime and venerable. The moſt extravagant abun⯑dance reigns at their feaſts; and each of the Svati contributes, by ſending a ſhare of proviſions. The dinner begins with fruit and cheeſe, and the ſoup comes laſt; juſt contrary to our cuſtom. All ſorts of domeſtic fowls, kid, lamb, and ſometimes veniſon, are heaped in prodigious quantities on their tables; but very rarely a Morlacco eats veal; and perhaps never, unleſs he has been perſuaded to do it out of his own country. This abhorrence to calves fleſh [326] is very ancient among the Morlacchi. S. Jerome takes notice of it; and Tomeo Marnovich, a Boſnian wr [...]er, of the laſt century, ſays, that the Dalmatians, uncorrupted by the vices of ſtrangers, abſtained from calves fleſh, as an unclean food, even to his days. The women relations, if they are invited, never dine at table with the men; it being an eſtabliſhed cuſtom for them to dine by themſelves. After dinner, they paſs the reſt of the day in dancing, ſinging ancient ſongs, and in games of dexterity, or of art and fancy; and in the evening, at a convenient hour after ſupper, the three ritual healths having firſt gone round, the Knum accompanies the bridegroom to the matri⯑monial apartment; which commonly is the cellar, or the ſtable. If there happens to be any bed prepared, better than ſtraw, he leads them to it; and, having untied the bride's girdle, he cauſes them both to undreſs each other reciprocally. It is not long ſince the Knum was obliged to undreſs the bride entirely; but that cuſtom is now out of uſe; and, inſtead of it, he has the privilege of kiſſing her as often as he pleaſes, whenever he meets her. When they are both undreſſed, the Knum retires, and ſtands liſtening at the door, if there be a door. It is his buſineſs to announce the conſummation of the marriage, which he does by diſcharging a piſtol, and is anſwered by many of the company. The next day, the bride, without her veil, and virginal cap, dines at table with [327] the Svati, and is forced to hear the coarſe equivocal jeſts of her indelicate, and, ſometimes, intoxicated company.

Theſe nuptial feaſts continue three, ſix, eight, or more days, according to the ability or prodigal diſ⯑poſition of the family where they are held. The new married wife gets no inconſiderable profit in theſe days of joy. And it uſually amounts to much more than all the portion ſhe brings with her; which often conſiſts of nothing but her own cloaths, and perhaps a cow; nay, it happens ſometimes, that the parents, inſtead of giving money with their daughter, get ſomething from the bridegroom by way of price. The bride carries water every morning to waſh the hands of her gueſts, as long as the feaſting laſts; and each of them throws a ſmall piece of money into the baſon, after performing that function; which is a very rare one among them, excepting on ſuch occaſions. The brides are alſo permitted to raiſe other little con⯑tributions among the Svati, by hiding their ſhoes, caps, knives, or ſome other part of their equipage; which they are obliged to ranſom by a piece of money, according as the company rates it. And, beſides all theſe voluntary or extorted contributions, already mentioned, each gueſt muſt give ſome preſent to the new married wife, at taking leave; and then ſhe alſo [328] diſtributes ſome trifles in return, which commonly conſiſts in ſhirts, caps, handkerchiefs, and ſuch like.

The nuptial rites are almoſt preciſely the ſame through all the country, inhabited by the Morlacchi; and thoſe in uſe among the peaſants, and common people of the ſea coaſt of Dalmatia, Iſtria, and the iſlands, differ but little from them. Yet, among theſe particular varieties, there is one of the iſland Zlarine, near Sebenico, remarkable enough; for there the principal gueſt, (who may naturally be ſuppoſed drunk at that hour), muſt, at one blow, with his naked broad ſword, ſtrike the bride's crown of flowers off her head, when ſhe is ready to go to bed. And, in the iſland of Pago, there is [...] [...]uſtom more comical, and leſs dangerous; but equally ſavage and brutal, After the marriage contract is ſettled, and the bridegroom comes to conduct the bride to church, her father, or mother, in delivering her over to him, makes an exaggerated enumeration of her ill qualities; "Know, ſince thou wilt have her, that ſhe is good for nothing, ill-natured, obſtinate, &c." On which the bridegroom, affecting an angry look, turns to the young woman, with an "Ah! ſince it is ſo, I will teach you better manners;" and then regales her with a blow or a kick, or ſome ſimilar piece of gal⯑lantry, which is by no means figurative. And, it ſeems in general, that the Morlach women, and [329] perhaps the greateſt part of the Dalmatians, the in habitants of the cities excepted, do not diſlike a beat⯑ing now and then, either from their huſbands, or lovers.

In the neighbourhood of Derniſh, the women are obliged, during the firſt year after their marriage, to kiſs all their national acquaintance who come to the houſe; but, after the firſt year, they are diſpenſed from that compliment; and, indeed, they become ſo intolerably naſty, that they are no longer fit to practiſe it. Perhaps, the mortifying manner, in which they are treated by their huſbands and re⯑lations, is, at the ſame time, both the cauſe and effect of this ſhameful neglect of their perſons. When a Morlach huſband mentions his wife, he always pre⯑miſes, by your leave, or begging your pardon. And, when the huſband has a bedſtead, the wife muſt ſleep on the floor near it.

The pregnancy and births, of the Morlacch women, would be thought very extraordinary among us, where the ladies ſuffer ſo much, notwithſtanding all the care and circumſpection uſed before, and after labour. On the contrary, a Morlach woman neither changes her food, nor interrupts her daily fatigue, on account of her pregnancy; and is frequently de⯑livered in the fields, or on the road, by herſelf; and [330] takes the infant, waſhes it in the firſt water ſhe finds, carries it home, and returns the day after to her uſual labour, or to feed her flocks. The cuſtom of the nation is invariable in waſhing the new born infants in cold water. The little creatures, thus careleſsly treated in their tendereſt moments, are afterwards wrapped in miſerable rags, where they remain three or four months under the ſame ungentle treatment; and, when that term is elapſed, they are ſet at liberty, and left to crawl about the cottage, and before the door, till they learn to walk upright by themſelves; and, at the ſame time, acquire that ſingular degree of ſtrength, and health, with which the Morlacchi are endowed; and are able, without the leaſt inconveni⯑ence, to expoſe their naked breaſts to the ſevereſt froſt and ſnow. The infants are allowed to ſuck their mother's milk whilſt ſhe has any; or till ſhe is with child again; and, if that ſhould not happen for three, four, or ſix years, they continue all that time to re⯑ceive nouriſhment from the breaſt. The prodigious length of the breaſts of the Morlacch women is ſome⯑what exraordinary; for, it is very certain, that they can give the teat to their children over their ſhoulder, or under their arms. They let the boys run without breeches, in a ſhirt that reaches only to the knee, till the age of thirteen or fourteen; following the cuſtom of the Boſnians, ſubject to the Porte, where no capitation tax is paid for the boys, till they wear [331] breeches; they being conſidered, before that time, as children not capable of labouring, or of earning their bread. On the occaſion of births, and eſpecially of the firſt, all the relations and friends ſend preſents, of eatables, to the woman in childbed, or rather to the woman delivered; and the family makes a ſupper of all theſe preſents together. The women do not enter the church till forty days after child-birth.

The Morlacchi paſs their youth in the woods, attending their flocks and herds; and, in that life of quiet, and leiſure, they often become dexterous in carving with a ſimple knife; they make wooden cups, and whiſtles, adorned with fanciful bas-reliefs, which are not void of merit; and, at leaſt, ſhews the genius of the people.

Milk, coagulated in various ways, is the ordinary nouriſhment of the Morlacchi; they ſometimes give it an agreeable acid by the infuſion of vinegar, whereby the curd becomes extremely refreſhing; and the whey is their favourite common drink; nor is it at all unpleaſant to a ſtranger's taſte. When a gueſt arrives unexpectedly, their readieſt and beſt diſh is new cheeſe, fried with butter They are not much accuſtomed to bread, baked after our manner, but they make cakes of millet, barley, Indian corn, and ſometimes of wheat; which they bake, or toaſt [332] on the hearth every day, for preſent uſe; but wheaten bread is hardly ever ſeen in the cottages of the poor. They make a large proviſion of cabbages, like thoſe uſed in Germany; and roots, and all kinds of eſculent herbs, which they find in the woods, or in the fields, ſerve them for a cheap and ſalutary diet. But garlic, and ſhalots, are the food moſt univerſally pleaſing to that people, next to roaſt meat, which is their moſt luxurious diſh. It is reaſonable to think, that the conſtant uſe of theſe plants, corrects, in part, the bad quality of their water, and contributes to keep them long, healthy, and robuſt. Nothing is more common in that country, than to ſee very old men ſtrong, active, and lively, to an extraordinary degree; and this, ſays Abbe Fortis, I am inclined to think, is partly owing to the garlic, and their regular vegetable diet.

A Morlach, in eaſy circumſtances, has no other bed than a coarſe blanket, made of goat's hair, and of Turkiſh manufacture; very few of the richeſt people in the country have ſuch a piece of luxurious furni⯑ture, as a bed after our faſhion; and, there are not many, who have ſo much as a bedſtead; which, how⯑ever, when they happen to get made in their rough manner, they ſleep in between two great hair blankets, without ſheets, or any other bedding. The greateſt part of the inhabitants content themſelves with the [333] bare ground, wrapt in the uſual blanket, and only ſometimes a little ſtraw under it. But in ſummer they chooſe to ſleep in the open air; perhaps, to be delivered from the domeſtic inſects. Their houſe⯑hold furniture conſiſts of a few, and ſimple articles; ſuch as ſhepherds and peaſants, little advanced in arts, require. Their houſes are not often covered with tiles or ſlates; and, when they have any beams intended to ſupport a ſecond floor, the families ward⯑robe is placed on them; which, it may be imagined, is well provided, where there is ſo much magnificence; yet, the ladies ſleep on the floor, even in ſuch noble houſes. I have been lodged in one of them, ſays the Abbe, where ſeveral of theſe women were grind⯑ing corn till paſt midnight; ſcreaming certain diaboli⯑cal ſongs, in the ſame place where I was laid to ſleep; and where ten others were ſtretched on the ground, and actually faſt aſleep, notwithſtanding their frightful vociferation. The Morlacchi, who have little or no correſpondence with ſea-towns, and are at a great diſtance from them, have ſeldom any other houſes, cottages covered with ſtraw, or zimble; for ſo they call a kind of laths, uſed inſtead of tiles. The ani⯑mals inhabit the ſame cottage, divided from the maſters, by a ſlight partition, made of twigs, and plaiſtered with clay, and the dung of cattle; the walls of the cottage are either of the ſame materials, [334] or of large ſtones, laid one upon another, without cement.

The fire-place ſtands in the middle of the cottage, and the ſmoke finds its way out at the door; there being rarely any other aperture. Hence, every thing within theſe wretched habitations is ornamented with black, and loathſome with ſmoak; not excepting the milk, which forms a great part of their ſuſtenance, and of which they are very liberal to ſtrangers. Their cloaths, perſons, and every thing, in ſhort, contract the ſame ſmoaky ſmell. The whole family ſits round this fire-place, in the cold ſeaſon; and, when they have ſupped, lay themſelves down to ſleep in the ſame place where they ſat at ſupper; for, in every cottage they have not even benches to ſit, and to lie upon. They burn butter inſtead of oil in their lamps; but, for the moſt part, they uſe pieces of cleft fir, in lieu of candles; the ſmoke of which, ſometimes tinges their muſtachoes curiouſly. A very few rich Morlacchi have houſes in the Turkiſh faſhion, with ſtools, and ſome few of our moveables; but, in ge⯑neral, the richeſt of them live but a ſavage kind of life. Although they have no idea of cleanlineſs in their habitations, yet, in one reſpect, they are nicer than we are; nor do they fail to reproach us on that account, and call us barbarous, and beaſtly; and, it is a real fact, that no man, nor woman, of that nation, [335] let the diſorder be ever ſo ſevere, or painful, was ever known to eaſe nature in the cottage; even dying perſons are carried out to perform that operation in the open air; and, if a ſtranger ſhould, through igno⯑rance, or contempt, pollute their houſe in that man⯑ner, even in the night, he would ſcarcely eſcape with his life, and certainly not without very ill treatment.

A Morlacco cloaths himſelf with great plainneſs and economy. The opanke ſerve for ſhoes, both in men and women; and under them they wear a ſhort woollen ſtocking, which reaches above the ankle, and joins to the breeches, whereby all the leg is covered. The breeches are of coarſe white ſerge, and they draw them tight about the waiſt, like a purſe, by means of a woollen ſtring. Their ſhirt is very ſhort, and over it they wear a ſhort doublet; and, in winter, they add a kind of ſhort cloak, made of very coarſe red cloth. On their head, they wear a red cloth cap, and above it, a ſort of cylindrical turban. They ſhave their heads, leaving only a ſmall tuft behind, like the Poles and Tartars. They bind their loins with a ſtrong reticular fillet of woollen yarn, and ſometimes of ſilk; and in this fillet, or bandage, and their breeches, they carry all their neceſſary im⯑plements; ſuch as one or two piſtols ſtuck in behind, and before; a very large knife, with the handle of braſs, ſet round with falſe ſtones. This knife is often made [336] faſt to a light braſs chain, rolled about the bandages; and near it is placed a horn, with greaſe for their arms, or for themſelves. Next follows a little bag, with their tinder-box, and money, if they have any; and then their tobacco in a dried bladder. The to⯑bacco pipe is placed behind, the reed ſtuck in below their ſhirt, and the bowl appears without. No Mor⯑lacco ever goes out of doors without his gun upon his ſhoulders. The chiefs of the nation, however, are better dreſſed.

The Morlacchi have their ruſtic aſſemblies, eſ⯑pecially in houſes where there are ſeveral young women; and, in theſe, the memory of ancient na⯑tional ſtories is perpetuated. A muſician always at⯑tends theſe meetings, and ſings the old Piſme, or ſongs, accompanying them with an inſtrument, called guzla, which has but one ſtring, compoſed of many horſe hairs. The tune, to which theſe heroic ſongs are ſung, is extremely mournful, and monotonous; beſides, they bring the ſound a little through the noſe, which agrees perfectly well with their inſtrument; the verſes, of the moſt ancient traditional ſongs, are of ten ſyl⯑lables, not rhymed. Their poetry does not want ſtrength of expreſſion; but the ſmalleſt ray of imagi⯑nation rarely appears in it; and the little that is at⯑tempted, is ſeldom happy. Yet theſe ſongs have great effect on the minds of the hearers, who are at [337] pains to get them by heart. A Morlacco will travel along the deſert mountains ſinging, eſpecially in the night time, the actions of ancient Sclavi kings, and barons, or ſome tragic event; and, if another happens to be travelling on a neighbouring mountain, he re⯑peats the ſame verſe, when the other has ſung it; and this alternation continues, as long as they can hear each other. A loud and long howl, which is an Oh! barbarouſly modulated, conſtantly precedes the verſe; the words of which are pronounced rapidly, almoſt without any modulation, which is all reſerved for the laſt ſyllable, and ends with another long howl, by way of trill, raiſed louder and louder, while the breath laſts.

Although the Morlacchi uſually ſing their ancient ſong, yet other poetry is not altogether extinguiſhed among them; and their muſicians, after ſing⯑ing an ancient piece, accompanied with the guzla, ſometimes finiſh it with ſome extempore verſes, in praiſe of the perſonage by whom they are temployed; and, ſome of them are capable of ſing⯑ing extempore during the whole entertainment; al⯑ways accompanying the voice with the guzla. There is alſo ſome written poetry among them, when the memory of a ſignal event happens to be preſerved in that manner.

[338]Their games and diverſions, almoſt all, conſiſt in trials of ſtrength or agility; ſuch as leaping, running, or flinging a large heavy ſtone. They dance to the ſound of the bagpipe, and the voice of their ſingers; a favourite dance, which they call kolo, or circle, which ſoon turns into ſkocci gofi; that is, high dancing. All the dancers, men and women, taking hold of each others hands, form a circle, and turn ſlowly round, to the harſh notes of the inſtrument. Then the circle changes its form, ſometimes into an elipſis, and ſometimes a ſquare, according as the dance becomes more animated; and, at laſt, transforms itſelf into the moſt violent ſprings and leaps, in which the women alſo join, and the whole becomes wild confuſion. The Morlacchi have an incredible tran⯑ſport for this rude dance; for neither the fatigues of the day, nor a long journey, nor hunger itſelf, can detain them from it, or from continuing ſeveral hours, with very little intermiſſion, in ſuch a violent exerciſe.

It happens frequently enough, that inflammatory fevers are the immediate conſequences of theſe vio⯑lent dances juſt mentioned; in which caſe, and in all others of the like nature, the Morlacchi do not apply to the phyſician; becauſe, happily for them there is none of that profeſſion among them, but they cure themſelves after their own way. A large draught [339] of a ſpirituous liquor, which they call rakia, is commonly their firſt medicinal portion; and, that, if it does not effectuate the cure, they repeat the doſe, together with a large infuſion of pepper, or gunpowder. After this, they cover themſelves up, in winter; or lie down in the hotteſt rays of the ſun, if in ſummer, to ſweat the illneſs, as they expreſs it. Their cure for agues is more methodical; the firſt and ſecond day they take a glaſs of wine, in which, as much pepper as they can take up between their finger and thumb, has been infuſed for ſeveral hours; and, the third or fourth day the doſe is doubled. Their remedy for obſtructions is to lay a large flat ſtone on the ſick perſon's belly; and, for the rheumatiſm, they uſe a moſt violent friction; which, at leaſt, renders the patient's back quite livid, and often ſtrips off the ſkin. Sometimes they apply a red hot ſtone, wrapt in red rags, for rheumatic pains; and, they are uſed to drink a great quantity of vinegar, to recover their appetite, after a long ſeries of fevers. But, the laſt remedy of all, which is taken only in deſperate caſes, is ſugar, when they can find any; and, they put it into the mouths of dying perſons, to make them paſs into the other world with leſs bitterneſs. Cripte⯑mus, and Chamoephitis, are uſed for articular pains; and, they frequently apply horſe-leeches to the ſwelled, or aching parts. They apply a red ochrous earth, frequently found in the fields, as the beſt remedy for [340] excoriations, or wounds. They are very dexterous in ſetting diſlocated, or broken bones, without having ſtudied oſteology, like our ſurgeons; who, notwith⯑ſtanding more frequently lame us, by the rules of art. They perform phlebotomy with an inſtrument like that uſed for horſes; and yet, there is no example of any bad accident happening by that coarſe ope⯑ration.

The family weeps and howls over the dead, while they lie in the houſe, and when they are carried out to be buried, much in the ſame manner as the wild Iriſh do with us. But the Morlacchi have ſeveral cuſtoms peculiar to themſelves on theſe occa⯑ſions; ſuch as whiſpering in the ear of the dead perſon, and giving expreſs commiſſions for the other world. After this ceremony is finiſhed, the body is covered with a white cloth, and carried to church; where the lamentations begin again, and the praiſes of the de⯑ceaſed are ſung, by the relations, or others appointed for that purpoſe, weeping. After the corpſe is buried, the whole company, together with the curate, returns to the houſe; where there is a ſtrange mixture of feaſt⯑ing and lamentation. The men let their beards grow a long time, in ſign of mourning: a cuſtom derived from the Jews, as is that of unleavened bread purifi⯑cations, and ſeveral others. Violet, or blue coloured caps, are alſo the mark of mourning. The women [341] wear black, or blue handkerchiefs; and cover all the red of their garments with ſomething black. During the firſt year, the Morlach women go, every holiday, to renew their lamentations; ſtrewing flowers, and wet herbs, upon the grave. And, if neceſſarily de⯑tained from that viſit, they, next time, make a formal excuſe to the dead, giving a minute account of the cauſe of their neglect. They alſo frequently aſk news about the other world, and propoſe many curious interrogations. All theſe ceremonies are ſung in a kind of verſe, in a doleful tone; and, ſometimes, the girls accompany the women, in order to learn theſe funeral arts; and form, altogether, a concert truly diſmal.

CHAP. IX. Of the Venetian Iſland.

OF all the iſlands of the Quarnaro, which, be⯑tween great and ſmall, are more than twenty in number, the iſland of Veglia is certainly the moſt conſiderable, for the ancient date of its being in⯑habited; the number of people it contains; the ſin⯑gularity of its ſituation; the amenity of the country; the variety and riches of its commodities; and, finally, for the productions of the foſſil kingdom. The ancient Greek geographers knew it by the name of Curicta, which was alſo adapted by the Latins. Few conſiderable iſlands are ſituated ſo near the main land as this; being divided from the coaſt of Li⯑burnia by a channel, ſcarcely a quarter of a mile broad. It is of an irregular figure; and has ſeveral promontories that ſtretch far into the ſea. Its circuit is about ninety-five miles; the length of it is thirty; and its greateſt breadth about fourteen.

[343]The whole iſland contains about 15,000 inhabi⯑tants, of which 1,500 live in the capital. There are a great many cattle in this iſland; and particularly horſes of that ſmall, ſtrong, and ſprightly breed, well known in Italy, and much uſed for riding horſes. The cattle and horſes make an article of trade in this iſland, though not every year of equal importance. The oxen are ſmall and weak; the number of ſheep, on this iſland, may be about 50,000; but their wool is not in much eſteem. They have hardly corn enough for four months proviſion; but, in recom⯑pence, they make about 24,000 barrels of wine, for exportation. Their wine is of excellent quality. The fire-wood ſent yearly to Venice, amounts to about 5,000 ſequins. Salt-fiſh is alſo an article of ſome importance.

The preſent capital, which bears the ſame name with the iſland, is ſituated on the very ſpot where the ancient Curicta ſtood; as appears by the many re⯑mains of columns and engraved ſtone in the walls and ſtreets. It is ill-built, and full of rubbiſh, and ruined houſes. In ſummer time, there is often a want of good water, to drink; and, the Scirocco wind pre⯑dominates.

The Doge of Venice cannot attend to petty com⯑plaints of the clergy; and the miniſters, appointed [344] for that purpoſe, are often more apt to profit bythe diſorder, than to remove it radically. A prieſt, for example, accuſed of defloration, has only to pay 50 paoli for a full acquittal, according to the law of the iſland. There goes a ſtory of a prieſt, who, being come to pay his penalty, after he had laid down his 50 paoli, went on, counting out more; and, being aſked why he did ſo, anſwered, "I pay before⯑hand for the next defloration, of which I ſhall be ac⯑cuſed."

The Greek ſuperſtitions ſubſiſt almoſt all over the iſland; though there is no clergy of the Greek rite in it. In one of the principal villages, the prieſts, who have the charge of collecting the tithes, and of guarding the church, are obliged to ſleep under a lodge, open on all ſides, and contiguous to the ſteeple, from St. George's day to Michaelmas; that they may be ready, at any hour, to drive away the ſtorms of hail, by ringing of bells; and, if the ſtorm continues, it is their duty to go out into the open air, bare-headed, to conjure it. Perhaps, no where are the bells more frequently rung than here; and no ſteeple is more frequently ſtruck with lightening.

The dreſs of the peaſants, over all the iſland, is of a coarſe kind of cloth, of a black colour; and, conſiſts chiefly in a caſſock, and a pair of long and wide [345] breeches, which reach down to the middle of the leg; a number of people, aſſembled together, in this mourning kind of habit, forms a melancholy ſpectacle.

Of the Iſland of Pago, the ancient geographers have left us no deſcription; though its form, extent, and rich produce deſerved it. This iſland is extended from north and ſouth, over againſt maritime Croatia, or the mountain Morlacca. It is about fifty miles long; its breadth is unequal. One particular cir⯑cumſtance diſtinguiſhes it from all the other iſlands of the Adriatic, which is a large internal ſalt-water lake, fifteen miles long, from ſouth to north, into which the ſea enters by a canal, not above a quarter of a mile broad.

The climate of the iſland of Pago is the ſame as that of the mountain Morlacca; in winter, dreadfully cold; in ſummer, ſcorching hot. The air is gene⯑rally darkened by the ſalt miſt, that is raiſed by the colliſion of the waves in the narrow channel of Mor⯑lacca, altogether flanked by ſteep naked rocks. The lake itſelf is not calm in the ſtormy ſeaſon, and ſo far from being a harbour is tempeſtuous, and unſafe. The inhabitants of the city cannot go out of their houſes during the violence of the wind; and are obliged to have the roofs defended, all round, by large ſtones. Thoſe, who have been there in the [346] winter time, ſpeak of it as a Siberia, quite covered with ſnow and ice; and always expoſed to the cold north wind. I, ſays Abbe Fortis, who was there in the hot ſeaſon, thought it equal to the moſt ſcorching parts of the world. The naked rocks, which not only form the organization, but alſo the ſuperficies of almoſt all the iſland; the narrowneſs of the vallies; the reverberation of the water of the lake, generally quite calm in ſummer, multiply the heat ſo prodigi⯑ouſly among thoſe ſtones, that the vines, which are planted all round the lake, ripen the grapes by the beginning of Auguſt: and the few other products, that grow there, anticipate the uſual time of maturity in the ſame manner. The meteors are exceedingly irregular in the ſummer time; ſudden whirlwinds are frequent, and heavy ſhowers of rain; the laſt are hurtful to the inhabitants of one part of the iſland, and favourable to the cultivation of the oppoſite end.

The banks of the interior marine lake are almoſt all cultivated with vines; and, particularly near the city of Pago, and the ſalt pits, at the ſouth end of the lake. The part of the iſland, under the juriſ⯑diction of Pago, produces about forty thouſand bar⯑rels of good wine, and about two thouſand of Rakia, one year with another. The great quantity of ſage, and other odoriferous plants, with which the iſland is covered, furniſhes excellent food for bees; and [347] the honey forms no inconſiderable branch of trade. The ſame paſture, among thoſe barren rocks, main⯑tains a large number of ſheep and goats; and the wool, which is very bad, and cheeſe, make a ſmall article for export. The northern part of the iſland is well ſupplied with water, and has good paſtures on the low grounds; by which means, its black cattle are larger, and better, than on any of the neighbouring iſlands on the coaſt of Dalmatia.

The moſt conſiderable product of the iſland is ſalt. In the year 1774, ſays Abbe Fortis, they made eight hundred thouſand Venetian ſtavios. Part of the ſalt-works belongs to the government, and the reſt to private proprietors; they are meliorated every year; and, for that end, the public lend money to thoſe proprietors who want it; and who, without their aſſiſtance, could not make the requiſite improvements. The lagune, on which the ſalt-works lie, is about four miles long, and half a mile broad.

Many veſtiges of ancient habitation ſtill remain on the iſland of Pago, as well as of walled places; which either have been deſtroyed by the incurſions of ene⯑mies, or of time. Hiſtorians ſay that the iſland was often abandoned by its inhabitants; and, indeed, it is rather to be wondered at, how men ever could reſolve to ſettle in ſo wretched a country. The ſmall number [348] of inhabitants, after ſo many years of peace and tran⯑quility, under the Venetian government, evidently proves how little the iſland is really habitable. The whole number ſcarce amounts to 3,500 inhabitants; which bears no proportion to the extent of ground, if the naked barren hills, that cover almoſt the whole, did not account for it. The greateſt part of this population lives in the city of Pago, which is ſaid to contain about 3,000 inhabitants. The ſmall capital of a deſart iſland cannot be expected to offer much to the eyes of the curious; and, beſides, it is of recent foundation, having been built by the Venetians, in the year 1468. The plan is well underſtood, and the ſtreets are large and ſtrait, which generally is not the caſe in the other cities of Dalmatia, Zara alone excepted.

The difficulty of acceſs to this city, and the ill ac⯑commodations, make it little frequented by ſtrangers. Hence the inhabitants are as wild and unpoliſhed, as if they were at the greateſt diſtance from the ſea, and the commerce of polite people. The gentry, who pretend to ſhew their manners different from the vulgar, are truly groteſque figures, both in their dreſs, behaviour, and inſolent pretenſions.

The greateſt part of the people of Pago live by working in the ſalt-pits, and have a comfortable ſub⯑ſiſtence, [349] regularly paid by government; it is there⯑fore a very important circumſtance for the inhabitants of this city to have a dry ſummer; and, hence the ignorant vulgar look upon rain as a miſchief brought upon the country by force of witchcraft. In conſe⯑quence of this idea, they elect a friar to exerciſe the meteors, and keep the rain off the iſland. If, not⯑withſtanding the poor friar's endeavours, the ſummer happens to be rainy, he loſes his reputation, and his bread; but, if two or three dry ſeaſons follow ſuc⯑ceſſively, he meets with great reverence and ad⯑vantage.

To conclude the account of this city; I found not here, ſays Abbe Fortis, a ſingle medal, nor in⯑ſcription, nor M. S. nor a man of good ſenſe, in all the iſland; every body is intereſted in the ſalt-pits; and whoever talks not of ſalt, is not regarded.

CHAP. I. Situation, Climate, Mountains and Productions, Rivers, &c.

IT is only in an improper or extenſive ſenſe, that this Duchy can be placed in Italy, or Lom⯑bardy.

[351]To the Weſt it borders upon France; to the South it likewiſe borders on France and Piedmont: to the Eaſt on Piedmont, the Milaneſe and Switzerland; and to the North on the lake of Geneva, by which it is ſeparated from Switzerland. Its greateſt length, from Weſt to Eaſt, is twenty-two German, or eighty-eight Engliſh miles; and its breadth from South to North, nineteen German, or twenty-ſix Engliſh.

Savoy may be reputed a nurſery of heroes, being ſequeſtered from all incentives to luxury and ſoft⯑neſs, on account of the lofty barren mountains, and enormous rocks, that overrun the greateſt part of it, and are known to produce only ſome moſs and ſhrubs. Box trees, indeed, grow in ſuch plenty, that brooms are made of them. The vallies between the mountains yield ſome grain, but are rather more laid out for paſture: the induſtry of the inhabitants has made the beſt improvements, in the mountains themſelves, which the ſo [...] could admit of.

There is ſo much rocky and barren ground in Savoy, ſays Sharp, particularly towards mount Cenis, that the leaſt ſpot of earth, capable of pro⯑ducing corn, or graſs, does not lie uncultivated; and, all through the country, one or the other may be ſeen growing on the ſlope of the rocks, wherever the peaſant can find a little piece of flat ſurface, with [352] a depth of ſoil ſufficient to admit of vegetation. Many of theſe pieces of land are not bigger, and many are leſs, than the hall of an old Engliſh country manſion; but, in ſome places, they are numerous; and, by hanging one over the other, from the top to the bottom of the hill, make a very pictureſque ſcene. In a converſation I had with a monk, an inhabitant of this country, I turned my eyes towards two or three of theſe little patches of cultivated ground, en⯑compaſſed with a monſtrous extent of barren rock; and, feeling ſome compaſſion for the ſuppoſed miſery of the inhabitants, I opened my mouth to ſay ſome⯑thing on the ſubject; but he, imagining I meant a pa⯑negyric on the ſtate of this agriculture, interrupted me with great eagerneſs, in a manner which ſhews the providential and blind partiality, that almoſt every individual feels for his native country. Aye, God be praiſed, ſays he, we are not like other nations, dependent for our food upon a due courſe of the ſeaſons; for whether the rains or drought prevails, we are always aſſured of our harveſt; we have ſo many crops on the bottom, the middle, and the ſummits of the mountains, that when ſome fail, the others neceſſarily ſucceed. To have en⯑deavoured to awake him out of his pleaſing dreams, and open his eyes, ſays Sharp, I muſt have been a brute.

[353]Towards the barren parts of the mountains, every one of the peaſants is in poſſeſſion of a ſmall quantity of ground, which he cultivates for the maintenance of his family; and there is hardly an inſtance of a man's labouring by the day in theſe parts. It is ſup⯑poſed, there are generally ſixty thouſand Savoyards abſent from home during the winter; for, thoſe who have no vineyards, as ſoon as they have got in their little harveſt, and ſown their ſeed, ſet out, ſome for France, ſome for Italy, and others for different parts, to procure a ſmall pittance, which they bring home to their wives and children. Juſt after harveſt, it is amazing to ſee the prodigious number of ſmall ſtacks of corn, ſpread over the whole face of the country; in ſome places, like haycocks in a meadow; but this partition of the land into ſuch an infinity of ſmall farms, accounts for the appearance; beſides, the pea⯑ſants make their ſtacks ſmall, from a perſuaſion, that if they were larger, the corn in that climate would become diſcoloured and muſty.

The wine, ſays Buſching, is not contemptible; and, in ſome parts of their vallies, there is ſuch a good breed of cattle, that moſt of the oxen in Piedmont, and the Milaneſe, are ſent from Savoy. Mules alſo are bred for exportation: but all this is inconſi⯑derable in proportion to the greateſt part of the country, which is occupied by immenſe mountains. [354] Some of the higheſt, are Les glacieres, or ice moun⯑tains; and les montagnes maudites, or the diabolical mountains, in Faucigny, the perpendicular height of the latter, twelve thouſand feet. Maurienne, in par⯑ticular, is remarkable for prodigious mountains, which make part of the Alps. The moſt famous is mount Cenis; the road from Savoy to Piedmont being cut over it. On the Lanebourg ſide the height is about three miles along a ſerpentine road; where the mules, carrying the paſſengers and baggage, may be left to themſelves, without any apprehenſion of danger; theſe creatures being very cautious and ſure-footed. On the top of the mountain ſtands a houſe, called La Ra⯑maſſe; from whence, in winter-time, the deſcent to Lanebourg is performed on ſledges, within ſeven or eight minutes; though from Lanebourg, up the moun⯑tain to La Ramaſſe, takes up a full hour. On the ſummit of the mountain, encompaſſed by others ſtill higher, and perpetually covered with ſnow, is a plain, or, more properly, a valley; and in it a lake of about three miles in circumference. Here, among other fiſh, are trouts, of eighteen pounds weight and up⯑wards, of a moſt delicious flavour. It is rented at near a hundred pounds ſterling a year. In the middle it is ſaid to be ſcarce fathomable.

The borders of this lake gave occaſion to a plea⯑ſant reply made by Sherlock. I paſſed theſe moun⯑tains, ſaid he, with a young Frenchman, who was paſ⯑ſionately [355] fond of the Italian muſic; when we arrived at our inn, on the middle of [...]he Alps, we went to take a walk, on the ſide of a ſmall lake, ſurrounded by a delightful wood; "Parbleu," ſaid he, "Nature is very ridiculous here"—"Ha," replied I, "this is ſome⯑thing new; I have often heard of the caprices of na⯑ture, but you are the firſt who have found her ridi⯑culous."— "Liſten," ſaid he; (the wood reſounded with the ſong of nightingales, and the lake was full of frogs that were croaking) "have you ever heard ſuch a concert."—"Yes, I have heard ſome Frenchmen, and Italian women ſing together." He took the joke in good part, ſays Sherlock, and we laughed at the ri⯑diculouſneſs of nature, and the opera-ſingers at Paris.

This lake receives a continual ſupply from the ad⯑jacent ſnowy mountains; and out of it flows a rivulet, by ſome called Semar, and by others St. Nicholas; which, falling precipitately down the mountains, runs into the river Dora, near Suſa. Cloſe by it, ſays Keyſler, ſtood a little palace, built in 1619, by Duke Victor Amadoeus, only for the entertainment of his bride, Chriſtina, daughter to Henry IV. in her journey through France; on which occaſion he alſo exhibited, on this lake, a ſea-fight.

At the inn called the Grande Croix, from a wooden croſs near it, the boundary between Savoy and Pied⯑mont, there is another deſcent, from a plain, ſur⯑rounded [356] with mountains, called La plaine de St. Ni⯑cholas. Here the deſcent begins to grow ſo ſtony and rugged, that the carriers of chairs, in which the tra⯑vellers ride, jump down, from one large ſtone to ano⯑ther, as from ſo many high ſteps. Along this ſteep deſcent, near Novaleſe, in Piedmont, are three or four places, where the path, on the brink of the terri⯑ble precipices, is very narrow; and ſo waſhed away by the water, that half the chair hangs over the precipice; but theſe dangerous places extend not above a few paces. In this road to Novaleſe are two very lofty cataracts; one of which muſt be croſſed over. The higher mountains are perpetually covered with ſnow and ice; and thoſe who go in ſearch of rock-cryſtal, or lay ſprings for chamois, as on the very high mountain of Bon aiſe, near Lanebourg, often expoſe their lives to imminent danger. Theſe chains of high mountains occaſion the roads, in Savoy, to be very bad, diſagreeable, and dangerous; eſpecially as huge maſſes of ſnow, or fragments of rock, roll fre⯑quently into them. The mountain of Plain jou, near Paſſy, in Faucigny, in 1751 became a volcano.

Some men of learning, ſays Keyſler, have thought the rock-cryſtal, which is found in great quantities on theſe mountains, to be generated from ice. Not only Seneca, Pliny, and St. Auguſtine, among the ancients; but alſo Cardan, and Pere Fournier, among the mo⯑derns, adopt this tranſmutation of ice; but, not to [357] mention, ſays the ſame writer, that the like origin may, with equal reaſon, be aſcribed to the diamond, the chyſolite, the topaz, and other gems; the favourers of ſuch an hypotheſis muſt either not have known, or not have recollected, that cryſtal is a native of very hot countries; ſuch as of the iſland Cyprus▪ and ſeve⯑ral of the ſouthern parts of Aſia; but, from this no⯑tion, it would follow, that large mountains of clear cryſtal might be found about Nova Zembla.

The perpendicular height of the above mountains, from the ſurface of the lake of Geneva, is computed to be, at leaſt, 2,000 fathoms, or, above two Engliſh miles; and the ſurface, of the lake of Geneva, is 426 fathoms above the level of the Mediterranean.

On the left-hand, between Fertiere and Novaleſe, in the deſcent from mount Cenis▪ is the mountain of Rochemelon; accounted the higheſt of all the Italian Alps. The aſcent up this mountain is a day's jour⯑ney; a ſteep valley running between that and mount Cenis. At firſt, ſays Keyſler, I could ſee clearly up to its very ſummit; but, within leſs than half a quarter of an hour, it was quite involved in a cloud. Theſe changes are ſo frequent, that, after all the trouble of getting up this prodigious acclivity, one may happen to come there at an unlucky time, and be obliged to wait for fair weather to come down again; but, in a clear ſky, the toil muſt be acknowledged to be well [358] rewarded, by an aſtoniſhing proſpect over the Mila⯑neſe, the Trevigiana, Venice, &c. Some have ima⯑gined this to be the mountain, from whence Hannibal encouraged his army, by a view of the ſplendor and fertility of Italy. A muſquet, fired from the top of this mountain, makes but a very ſaint report; like that of the breaking of a ſtick, owing to the light⯑neſs and thinneſs of the air. It is ſaid that a ſtatue of Jupiter formerly ſtood upon the top of Rochemelon; perhaps it has been obliged to give way to one of the Virgin Mary, which is ſet up there; maſs is annually ſaid at this place, on the 5th of Auguſt. Thouſands of people repair thither, from the neighbouring countries, either out of devotion, or in compliance with an in⯑junction of the church; climbing over ice and ſnow, and ſpending, at leaſt, one night upon the mountain.

The chief rivers in this country are, the Rhone, which flows out of the lake of Geneva; and, on that ſide, ſeparates it from France. Into it run the follow⯑ing rivers: 2. The Arvo; which riſes in Faucigny, has a mixture of gold in its ſand, and, near Geneva, empties itſelf into the Rhone. 3. Les Suſſes; the ſources of which are in Genevois; and fall into the Rhone, not far fron Seiſel; the latter being increaſed by the Seran. 4. The Iſere; which runs at the foot of mount Iſeran; among others, it receives the river Arc, which likewiſe riſes in the Alps. The Arc [359] having a great many falls, is very rapid, and full of foam.

Of lakes, the chief are thoſe of Annecy, in Gene⯑vois; and 2. Bourget, in Savoy; which are properly ſo called. The laſt, has a fiſh unknown in other coun⯑tries, called Lavarette; frequently weighing four or five pounds; and, as a delicacy, never fails bringing a good price at Chambery. Here are alſo ſome re⯑markable ſprings; as the hot-bath at Aix. Not far from Bourget-lake is a ſpring, which riſes and falls with ſome noiſe, but not at ſtated and regular times; after Eaſter this alteration is often perceptible about ſix times in an hour; and, in dry ſeaſons, not above once or twice; it iſſues from a rock, and is called la fontaine de merveille. Of a different kind are the ſprings of this country, which ſometimes throw up more or leſs water; and riſe, or fall, according to the alteration in the Rhone; but not by ſuch ſudden and frequent fluxes and re fluxes as in the fontaine de merveille.

Chambery is the capital of Savoy; and ſituate on the river Leiſe, in a pleaſant valley, about one day's journey from Geneva. This town is not large, and its chief ſtrength is in it walls. It is the ſeat of the high court of juſtice, or parliament of Savoy; and the reſidence of the nobleſſe. Here are no antiqui⯑ties [360] to be ſeen, nor any thing curious. Abbè Richard has ſaid more in favour of the architecture of the church than it merits. They ſhew, with great vene⯑ration, a little chapel, in which the Sainte Suaire was depoſited; ſince removed to Turin. Upon the wall hangs a long liſt of relics, conſiſting of about ſixty different articles; ſuch as St. John's reed, that was ſhaken by the wind in the deſart; two nails of the real croſs; fragments of ſome of the Apoſtles' garments. But, fortunately for the devots at Chambery, all their precious realities have been removed to Turin, and the liſt only remains. The old caſtle was deemed im⯑pregnable, in bow and arrow time, but is now com⯑manded on every ſide. Two thouſand people were lodged within its walls in 1736, or 1737, at the mar⯑riage of the preſent King of Sardinia, with Madame of Lorrain. The palace is in ruins. There are a few ſmall pictures in the church of the Jacobins, tolerably well executed. The public walk, admired by Lalánde, does not anſwer his deſcription. Here are ſeveral fountains, ſupplied with excellent water. The houſes make a beggarly appearance, on the outſide particu⯑larly, as the windows are of paper, and frequently in tatters. In this town there are no fewer than fifteen religious houſes, male and female communautés, be⯑ſides one convent of Jeſuits; who, though conſiſting of no more than fourteen or fifteen in number, have a yearly revenue of thirty thouſand livres.

[361]I ſhall conclude the account of Chambery, ſays Lady Millar, with an anecdote of a cobler's family. About a quarter of a league from Chambery, a fine chateau, juſt built, attracts our notice. The maſter of it goes by the name of Jaques Mar, (for he has no title) and is the ſon of a cobler. In childhood, leaving his country, he travelled into Spain. Being arrived at Madrid, he had the good fortune to recommend him⯑ſelf as a marmiton in the Queen's kitchen; when, in proceſs of time, he was promoted to be chef de la cui⯑ſinier; and, at length, Entrepreneur, or caterer; in which capacity he had a fixed monthly allowance, to provide victualling for all the royal houſhold. In the mean time, a brother of Jaques Mar, who, to ſeek his fortune in England, had quitted Chambery, died in London; having realized about ten thouſand livres a year, which he bequeathed to his brother. Fame, ſays Lady Millar, does not give ſo accurate an account of the riſe and progreſs of this Mar, as of Jaques. All that could be learnt was, that he ſerved a London merchant, who traded on the ſeas; and that, at length, he became conſiderable, and carried on commerce upon his own account. The caterer Jaques planned and built the before-mentioned chateau, to which he retired, with a yearly income of about two thouſand pounds ſterling, at the age of forty-five. His couſin-german continues the family-ſtall, furniſh⯑ing to the neceſſities of the ſoles and heels of his neigh⯑bours, [362] with as much humility as if there had been no chateau in the family.

At Aix, near this city, are ſome baths, famous for their medicinal qualities. Two of the ſprings burſt out of a rock, on the ſide of a ſteep mountain, which are arched over like a grotto. The waters are exceſ⯑ſive hot. Our guide, ſays Lady Millar, told us that a Geneva gentleman had but juſt left the town, who was ſo paralytic, when he entered, as to occaſion his being helped out of his carriage, by five men; in ſix weeks after he had uſed the baths, and drank the wa⯑ters, he got into his coach without aſſiſtance, and is re⯑turned in perfect health to Geneva. One of the ſprings brings down with it a kind of ſtuff, or paſte, in flakes; in colour and conſiſtence not unlike the white of an egg, a little hardened; which flames and burns, when applied to a lighted candle. Curioſity led me to taſte the water, of which, having drank a glaſs, with ſeveral flakes in it, I was, almoſt inſtantaneouſly ſeized with a ſickneſs in the ſtomach. It is uſed in conſump⯑tions, and all diſorders of the breaſt. I folded up in a paper ſome of the moſt condenſed flakes, and put them into my pocket-book to dry; but an hour or two after, there was not the ſmalleſt veſtige to be ſeen; nothing remained but an offenſive ſmell. The ſtones, which receive the ſpray, are covered over with a green coat reſembling vitriol; which is applied as an infallible remedy to corns. No doubt it may be endued with [363] many ſuperior virtues, though they have not yet been properly inveſtigated. There is another fountain, which ſupplies a bath built for Madame Royale; the water of which is green; and ſo tranſparent as to diſ⯑cover the ſource, bubbling up through the gravel at the bottom. This water is ſaid to have the extraor⯑dinary quality of reſtoring, in a few hours, to their original freſhneſs, all ſorts of berbs and vegetables, though dried and withered.

Lanebourg is ſituated among the mountains, and particularly mount Cenis; which lies ſo near it, to⯑wards the South and Eaſt, that from the end of No⯑vember, to the 17th of January, the inhabitants never ſee the ſun; which on that day makes its firſt appear⯑ance above the tops of the mountains. It is a large village, at the foot of mount Cenis, conſiſting of be⯑tween two and three hundred houſes; which enjoys a number of privileges, and is under excellent regula⯑tions; they are ſo happy as to be free from the op⯑preſſion of a Seigneur Commandant, or any other petty tyrant. The only tax they are ſubject to is the Taille; which amounts nearly to the ſeventh part of the pro⯑duce of their lands, and is paid to the king; they are at no other public expence, except the keeping the public roads and bridges paſſable. They alſo make proviſion for their curé, and repair the church. They never let their land; as by ſo doing it would not pro⯑duce [364] them more than two and a half per cent. whereas, by cultivating their little property themſelves, they make it yield from ten to thirteen per cent. There are few Lanebourgians who poſſeſs more than twelve, and none more than forty pounds a year. They have but two prieſts, in their village, and no convent. They are remarkably healthy, and long-lived; no phyſi⯑cian being permitted to live at Lanebourg. The ſim⯑plicity of their manners, and the purity of their lives, is ſuch, that it very rarely happens an illegitimate child is produced amongſt them; but, when ſuch an event does arrive, immediate marriage, or perpetual exile, muſt enſue. By the vigilance of the curé and ſyndics, no perſon has ever eſcaped one or other of theſe or⯑dinances; and they generally prefer the former. Here then ſubſiſts a community more free from ſuperſtition, than the religion they profeſs admits. Content with the produce of their own labours, they are always chearful, always happy; their wants are bounded by the mere neceſſary; their riches never reach beyond their means;—Thus do they defy the vice of avarice, and chaſe for ever from their pillow, the cares attend⯑ant on ambition.

Among the inhabitants of the mountains, in this part of the world, is a very ſingular cuſtom; as abſurd as it is laughable; I do not know that any writers of travels have mentioned, as I had it on the veracity of [365] a gentleman with whom I am acquainted; and who is a native of Savoy. He declares, that being one day on a viſit at a gentleman's houſe; the maſter of a ca⯑pital vineyard, where he ſlept one night, on the moun⯑tains; two beautiful girls, the daughters of his friend, with a young lady their viſitor, came into his chamber, juſt as he had got out of his bed; and, before he could get any of his cloaths on; and, as they did not ſhew any diſpoſition to retire, though he was naked, de⯑cency led him to jump into his bed again, and cover himſelf with the cloaths; thinking they might have ſomething particular to ſay to him. They burſt out a laughing, came up to the bedſide, and attempted to ſlip down the cloaths. Not being prepared for ſuch a viſit, and one of them having a rod in her hand, I was at a loſs, ſays he, to know what they would be at. As they ſtrived to uncover me, I gathered the cloaths about me, and made all the reſiſtance I could: but, finding that ineffectual, I determined to laugh with them, and treat them in their own way. Accordingly I jumped out of bed, catched hold of one of them by her petticoats before; treated them in a manner I ſhould have called rude, at any other time, made ſome attempts at indelicacies; and, though I uſed not my tongue, I made good uſe of my hands.—It was a general romp.—They laughed immoderately; and when tired, fled from me, and thus I got rid of them. Having locked my door, I dreſſed myſelf; and, tell⯑ing [366] my adventure to a friend that morning, he aſſured me they were girls of good character; and their viſit to me was merely a frolick, and deſigned to alarm me with the dread of the rod; that, when in bed, had I gathered the cloaths about me before, turned my back to them, and expoſed my breech, they would not have given me a ſingle ſtroke; but would have run away laughing. That to frighten their male viſitants with the dread of a whipping, was a cuſtomary frolick of unmarried girls of that country; that their whole en⯑joyment conſiſted in the panic they occaſioned, and they called it Alarming the ſtranger.

The ſame gentleman informs me, that in the Alps there is a plant, which is ſought and gathered by moon-light; great quantities of which are tranſported to Paris; but what the plant is, in its nature, he could not learn. That it is diſcoverable only in moon-light, and then only in certain directions, when it has a bril⯑liancy peculiar to itſelf; and by which it is known. A ſtep of the ſearcher, much to the right or left, will loſe him the ſight of it.

In winter, when the ſnow is on the ground, the plain on the top of mount Cenis is croſſed in a ſledge, drawn by a horſe or mule. The deſcent, from La Grande Croix to Novaleſe, muſt, at all times, and even in winter, be made in chairs; the large ſtones, the winding ways full of holes, and the dangerous pre⯑cipices, not admitting the uſe of ſledges. But the deſcent, from mount Cenis to Lanebourg, is performed in theſe machines; which go with ſuch rapidity, as almoſt to take away the breath. Theſe ſledges hold only two, the traveller, and the guide who ſits forward ſteering with a ſtick. On each ſide he has an iron chain; which he drops like an anchor, either to ſlacken the courſe of the ſledge, or to ſtop it. This, like the carrying in chairs, is called ramaſſar les gens. Some travellers, eſpecially the Engliſh and Germans, are ſo delighted with this expeditious deſcent, that they ride up again for the enjoyment of that pleaſure a ſecond time. This is the village where the carriages are taken to pieces to croſs mount Cenis, and from whence travellers are conveyed up the mountains; as well as along the plain, and down the other ſide, in chairs. There are mules for thoſe who chuſe to ride; but the porters, of which there are an hundred kept always in readineſs for this employment, are ſo accuſtomed to it, [368] that they convey travellers up the mountaain, with leſs fatigue to themſelves; than thoſe not accuſtomed to climbing would experience, even in walking up. There are, from ſix to ten porters allotted to each chair, according to the weight of the perſon to be car⯑ried, who relieve each other by turns.

A corpulent Engliſhman, ſays Keyſler,, who is ſaid to have weighed five hundred and fifty pouunds, tra⯑velling here, was obliged to make uſe of twelve chairmen.

The chairs, ſays Lady Millar, are conſtructed in the moſt ſimple and portable manner imaginable. There are two ſmall bars of wood for arms, and another bar behind, which riſes a little higher than the waiſt; and which ſerves as a ſupport to the back of the perſon in the chair; the ſeat is matted with bark of trees and ropes, mixed together; which yield to the weight of thoſe it conveys. The ſeat is ſo near the ground, that there is not the leaſt difficulty in ſtepping out of the chair at pleaſure. There are no legs to theſe chairs; but, in their room, a board is tied on by ropes to the ſeat, for the feet to reſt on, and the cords as much ſhortened as can conveniently be; the legs and feet are well ſupported, being ſufficiently raiſed to clear them entirely of any ſhock from rocky, or uneven ground.

[369]Theſe chairs are fixed on poles, which appeared to me as long as thoſe commonly uſed in Bath, or Lon⯑don. The chairmen are aided by ſtraps over their ſhoulders, in the manner of thoſe in England; and they uſe no other aſſiſtance to keep them from ſlipping, than a few nails drove into the heels of their ſhoes; and a packthread paſſed from one to the other of them.

Of all diſputable matters, between the chairmen and travellers, ſays Sharpe, the Syndics are appointed by his Sardinian Majeſty abſolute judges. Theſe Syndics are magiſtrates; living, one at Lanebourg, on this ſide of the mountain; and the other at Nova⯑leſe, which is ſituated at the foot of the mountain, on the ſide towards Turin; they are poor men, and not above accepting a ſmall preſent for drink; but in⯑veſted with ſufficient power to compel both the mu⯑leteers, and the chairmen, to attend when any tra⯑veller arrives. I had an opportunity, when I tra⯑velled into Italy, ſays the above author, of ſeeing this power exerted; for the chairmen were in the midſt of their harveſt, gathering in the produce of their little farms; and would gladly have been excuſed. The Syndic therefore rung the alarum-bell, which ſummons was immediately obeyed; and a ſufficient number of them ſelected to tranſport me, and my company, the next morning. Their pay is fixed; it is about half-a-crown [370] each; and the hire of each mule nearly as much; but, by the ordinance, no mule is obliged to carry above three hundred and fifty pounds weight; ſo that, if the body of a carriage, or any parcel of lug⯑gage, ſhould weigh more, it is in the breaſt of the mu⯑leteers to demand what ſum they pleaſe; a privilege they ſeldom neglect to avail themſelves of; and ſome⯑times, with great extortion, to the amount of many guineas. Engliſhmen, who take their own coaches, ſhould provide ſuch a carriage as may be taken to pieces; which thoſe with a perch do not admit of. A man may travel poſt through the Alps, if he pleaſes, but it is attended with ſome trouble; and, as I would not adviſe any one, ſays Sharpe, to drive faſt on the edges of thoſe precipices, I ſhall forbear to enter into a detail on that ſubject. Martin likewiſe obſerves, that this is, almoſt, the only road, where it is expedient to travel by vetturins; unleſs the ſtate of a traveller's finances makes it neceſſary. He adds, that there is one ſedan chair at Suſa; which may generally be had, by ſending notice before-hand, on the other ſide of the mountain; and, lately, they have provided other co⯑vered chairs.

On the ſide of the mountains are ſmall houſes, which ſerve the peaſants, in winter, as magazines for their forage; and, in ſummer, as dairies; for they make butter and cheeſe in them, during the three warm [371] months. The plain is by no means ſans aucune ine⯑galité, according to Lalande, for there is a great vari⯑ety of ground; and what is called the plain, is rather a valley, extending along between high mountains, with ſeveral different roads through it; ſome of which the mules take, others the porters. The graſs is exceed⯑ingly thick, ſhort, and full of flowers; ſuch as amuran⯑thoides, or everlaſtings; ſome yellow, others of a fine crimſon, and purple. The crowfoot kind is in great abundance, on this mountain; with a number of aromatic, and odoriferous plants. The foreſts, on the ſides of mount Cenis, abound with the Chamois; a ſpecies of wild goat, whoſe fleſh is eatable. The pea⯑ſants ſell their ſkins, from eight, to twelve livres each. The blood of theſe animals dried, and taken in wine, is eſteemed a ſovereign remedy for the pleuriſy. The King of Sardinia is never without the medicine; it being allowed, by the Turin phyſicians, to be admi⯑rable, in many caſes. The chamois are fleet, and ex⯑tremely ſhy; concealing themſelves in the moſt re⯑tired parts of the foreſt, and in the clefts of rocks, the moſt difficult of acceſs. They are ſo alert, that they bound from rock to rock, and will ſtand, with all their four feet together, on the moſt pointed of them. Their ſmell is ſo exquiſite, that no man can approach them without their perceiving it, except againſt the wind; and they have the ſenſe of hearing, in ſuch perfection, tha it is ſcarce poſſible to get within ſhot [372] of them. The only way of killing them is, by lying in wait behind the buſhes, near their uſual haunts, be⯑fore break of day, taking care the wind is in your fa⯑vour. No dog can catch them, not even a grey⯑hound; for they run directly to the precipices, as their ſecurity, near which they are always found; and which are ſo exceedingly embarraſſed, and interſected, that a dog would break his neck, that ſhould attempt to follow them for any time.

Oppoſite to the inn, ſituated at the further extre⯑mity of the plain, is a ſmall chapel, where thoſe, who happen to periſh on the mountains, by cold, lighten⯑ing, or any other accident, are buried; provided that a roſary, or any other mark of their catholiciſm, be found about them. Though this country lies ſo high, it is not free from thunder; and often ſuffers by thick clouds unexpectedly ſettling upon it, and remaining four, five, or ſix days.

They brought us, ſays Lady Millar, butter; the beſt, I think, I ever taſted; perhaps owing to the many aromatic herbs, the cows find on the plain. They aſſerted that, for nine months in the year, they keep the cows in their kitchens; in order to make butter for the Engliſh travellers.

[373]The deſcent from La Grande Croix, ſays Lady Millar, is extremely rapid, for about three hundred yards; and reſembles, more than any thing, a broken ſtone ſtair-caſe; which occaſions the porters to turn ſo ſuddenly, with its windings, that the perſon in the chair paſſes clear over the ſharp angles, cutting them, as it were, acroſs. Notwithſtanding the novelty of this manner of travelling, the ſteepneſs of the road, and the velocity with which I deſcended, my porters running almoſt the whole way, I never once felt my⯑ſelf ſufficiently frightened to lay hold of the arms of the chair, my attention was ſo much engaged with the ſingularity, and variety of the proſpect below.

In deſcending the mountain to Novaleſe, ſays Keyſler, one is ſometimes obliged to alight, from theſe ſtraw chairs. and walk forty or fifty paces; not ſo much on account of the dangerous road, as from the narrowneſs and windings, of the defiles between the rocks, not admitting the uſe of the long poles, with which they carry the chairs; the chairmen then either put them under their arms, or carry them on their heads, as they are very light. One of theſe paſſes is called les pas de diable, i. e. "The devil's ſtride." The path, in ſome places, is ſcarce a foot broad; and, on each ſide, are very ſteep precipices. Sometimes our chairmen happened to ſtumble, and fell down, but it was when there was little danger; and, in ſuch [374] caſes, it is the ſafeſt way to throw themſelves on the ground. Theſe chairmen have a very eaſy pace; and, the weather being exceedingly fine, I was ex⯑tremely well pleaſed with this day's expedition. In our cities of Germany, ſays Keyſler, what a noiſe do the chairmen make, if they are to carry a perſon, of any bulk, but ſome hundred ſteps; whilſt here our Lanebourg chairmen, without the leaſt panting, or reſting, run directly up a mountain, whoſe height is a good hour,s journey; and then, on the plain above us, and as ſoon as they have fitted the chairs, which they diſpatch in a few minutes, carry the company, for two hours together, over a very bad road, making only four pauſes, and thoſe very ſhort ones; ſuch is the effect of cuſtom, and a ſimple diet, to which they alſo owe their uncommon longevity; many of them attaining to an hundred years of age. Their uſual drink is milk; and they ſeldom taſte wine. In my inn at Chambery, I fell into diſcourſe with a Franciſ⯑can, of ſome ſenſe and learning, whoſe conſcience would not allow him to be carried by men, as contrary to that equality among the human ſpecies; which, as he ſaid, was founded in nature, and, as far as poſſible, ought to be kept up. Accordingly he travelled on foot, in coming down the mountain to Lanebourg, but aſſured me, that another time he ſhould diſpenſe with thoſe ſcruples; the ſteepneſs of the mountains being ſuch, that it was with the greateſt difficulty he could [375] keep on his legs. Thus it was not without extreme toil, and danger of his life, that he performed this journey; which yet is much eaſier than to deſcend on the other ſide of the mountain into Italy; where the rocks are more dangerous, and the road more en⯑cumbered with their fragments.

To give an idea of this precipice, ſays Groſley, it ſuf⯑fices to ſay that the deſcent is not quite three leagues; and the aſcent takes up full five-and-twenty. We were amazed at the rapidity of the Arc, along which the way lies in aſcending; but, compared to the little Doria, along which you go down, it only creeps. The fall of the latter is one continual caſcade; diſtri⯑buted by flights of twenty, thirty, fifty feet perpendi⯑cular height; down which the water precipitates itſelf like ſurf, or very light froth; ſo that, at ſome diſtance, it looks like the tranſparent clouds, ſailing along in a fine ſummer's ſky.

The road of the deſcent is a zig-zag, at very acute angles, contrived and laid out with admirable art, and on it our carriers trotted, as faſt as the beſt chairmen in Paris. To ſhorten the way, they would ſtride over the points of angles; and there we, and our carriages ſometimes hung over a precipice, two or three thou⯑ſand perpendicular feet in depth. The very mules, when their riders are ſo venturous, or when left to [376] themſelves, take the ſame bold pace. This deſcent is, to travellers, like being driven into Italy by a ſtorm.

Winter is no impediment to travelling over mount Cenis, for the ſnow renders the whole road excellent; and in ſome of the rough craggy ways, much better than in ſummer; ſo that there are continually people paſſing into Italy, through the Alps.

A traveller cannot advance far, in this mountainous country, before he perceives many of the natives, of both ſexes, labouring under that ſpecies of ſwelled throat, which the common people call a wen, or, the Deer's-neck; and the medical people, Bronchocele: near mount Cenis very few are exempt from it; and many of theſe ſwellings are ſo enormous, and of ſo loathſome an appearance, eſpecially in ugly, ragged, half-ſtarved old women, that the very fight of them turns the ſtomach. I do not learn, ſays Sharpe, that this malady is ever mortal; not but that, ſometimes, the tumor compreſſes the windpipe ſo much, as to ren⯑der reſpiration very difficult; which, at the long-run, though inſenſibly, may affect life. It is well known, that in whatever place the inhabitants drink ſnow-water, they are ſubject to this diſtemper. This ſwel⯑ling, however, never begins to form till towards two years of age.