1V>j 
 
 V^ 
 
 >* 1
 
 RAMBLES IN ITALY 
 
 IN THE 
 
 YEARS 1816....17. 
 
 BY JIN AMERICAN. 
 
 Per varios casus per tot discrimina rerum 
 Tendimus 
 
 BALTIMORE : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY N. G. MAXWELL, No. 140, MARKET-ST, 
 
 1. Robinson, printer. 
 
 1818.
 
 District of Maryland, to wit: 
 
 BE IT REMEMBERED, That on this Seventh day 
 
 £*******£ f" May, in the forty-second year of the Impendence of 
 
 ! seal | the United States of America, Nathaniel G. Maxwell, 
 
 ******->** of the said District, hath deposited in this office the 
 
 title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor ; 
 
 in the words following, to wit: — 
 
 " Rambles in Italy, in the years 1 816 — 17. By an American. 
 
 Per varios casus per tot discrimina rerum 
 Tendinitis. 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, 
 entitled, " An act for the encouragement of learning - , by secur- 
 ing*' the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and 
 proprietors of such copies during" the times therein mentioned-'* 
 And also to the act, entitled, " An act supplementary to an 
 act, entitled, " An act for the encouragement of learning', by 
 securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors 
 and proprietors of such copies during the times therein men- 
 tioned," and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of de- 
 signing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 
 
 PHILIP MOORE, Clerk 
 
 District of Mil .
 
 DO 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 A he title prefixed to the following 
 sketches may be considered as a palli- 
 ation of the offences committed in 
 them against the established canons of 
 criticism. The appellation of tour, or tra- 
 vels, would have implied upon the whole 
 a view much more extensive, and a more 
 minute specification of facts, than will 
 be found in the ensuing pages. In some 
 measure it would also have been incon- 
 sistent with that freedom of digressional 
 remark, and those remote analogies and 
 comparisons in which the author 
 has indulged, and which naturally pre- 
 sent themselves to the mind, in a coun- 
 try, that gives so continual a play to 
 the imagination, as Italy. 
 
 91 J 470
 
 4 
 
 The author visited Italy, labouring un- 
 der a pulmonary affection, and was com- 
 pelled during the first year of his resi- 
 dence in that country, to attend almost 
 exclusively to the re-establishment of 
 bis health. Pleasure and business which 
 open a field for observation, and furnish 
 opportunities of information, would have 
 been incompatible with the infirmities 
 of a debilitated constitution. When he 
 was so far restored as to travel and to ob- 
 serve, his inquiries were governed by tin* 
 casual impulses of curiosity and taste, ra- 
 ther than directed with the view of collect- 
 ing such information, as might enable him 
 to supply the deficiencies in the excellent 
 works on Italy, already before the publick. 
 Nothing at that time could have been 
 further from his mind, than the idea of 
 writing a book. A few hastily composed 
 sketches of the scenery and manners of 
 Italy, were the only memorials he pre- 
 served of his travels. To these he has 
 sometimes had recourse, in order to re- 
 new on his memory, the almost faded
 
 images of a country, which he visited 
 with so much delight. Some partial 
 friends to whom he exhibited these 
 sketches, suggested the idea, and urged 
 the propriety of the publication which 
 is now offered to the publick. 
 
 To what has been already alleged in 
 extenuation of its faults, may be added 
 the difficulty of saying any thing new 
 on the subject of Italy. This, although 
 a consideration not likely to have its 
 due weight with the publick, is one, 
 upon which the author is inclined to 
 lay peculiar stress, because he has felt 
 it in all its force. No country affords so 
 noble a field for the talent of writing, as 
 Italy ; at the same time perhaps there is 
 none on which more ability of tbis kind 
 has been displayed. He must possess a 
 confidence in his own powers almost unli- 
 mited, who does not irresolutely ap- 
 proach a subject already decorated with 
 the brilliant eloquence of Madame de 
 Staei, and which has been so fully and
 
 faithfully illustrated and described by the 
 v classick pen of Eustace. 
 
 In treading a beaten track, an author's 
 solicitude to screen himself from the 
 charge of plagiarism, and to avoid the 
 footsteps of those by whom he has been 
 preceded, is apt to betray him into pue- 
 rility or bombast ; he must exaggerate 
 or confine himself to the relation of bar- 
 ren and insignificant anecdotes — Some 
 novelty the author has endeavoured to 
 give the following work, by blending 
 with description, occasional remarks on 
 the late political changes in Italy. He 
 originally contemplated a plan which 
 would have included a general view of 
 the literature of Italy — the present 
 state of its learned institutions, and 
 some account of their most eminent pro- 
 fessors ; and the work in its present form 
 would have been given much earlier to 
 the publick, if it had not been delayed 
 by the continued hope of obtaining the 
 necessary materials for that purpose.
 
 Inelegancies of diction will be readily 
 pardoned, when it is considered that 
 the time allotted to composition, was 
 subtracted from professional studies. 
 In consequence, too, of the haste with 
 which he has been sometimes obliged to 
 furnish manuscript for the press, and 
 the rapidity with which he has occasion- 
 ally revised proof-sheets, some inaccu- 
 racies of a grammatical and typogra- 
 phical nature have escaped the author ; 
 these, however painful they may be to 
 his eye, will hardly, he trusts, be consi- 
 dered by liberal criticks as unpardonable 
 blemishes in a writer, who for the first 
 time has had occasion to exercise some- 
 thing of that attention to minute elegance 
 which is required in every composition 
 destined for the publick. 
 
 After all, the author goes forward be- 
 fore the world not much depressed by 
 fear, and not much elated by hope. Cri- 
 ticism is the fasbion of the day, and 
 when he sees authors of much higher
 
 8 
 
 pretensions than himself, subjected to its 
 unsparing censures, it would be foolish 
 even beyond the privilege allowed the 
 sanguine character of youth, to expect 
 greater favour than has been shewn 
 to tbose who have made their literary 
 debut with much fairer claims to indul- 
 gence.
 
 
 Italia ! Italia ! O tu cui feo la sortie, 
 Bono mfelice di bellezza, ond'hai 
 Funesta dote d'infiniti guai, 
 Che in fronte scritti per gran doglia porte. 
 
 Deh fossi ta men bella, O alraen piu forte ! 
 
 FUICAIA. 
 
 To an American whose eye has been uni- 
 formly accustomed to the lakes, rivers, and fo- 
 rests, of the new world, the general aspect of 
 Italy, at first, is not striking, nor even pleas- 
 ing. The magnificent features which nature 
 has given to America, cast into the shade, the 
 comparatively diminutive beauties, of Italian 
 scenery. Vineyards, and plantations of olives, 
 make but a poor figure, when compared with
 
 the rich verdure, of our interminable forests; 
 \/ and the Tyber and the Arno, though renowned 
 in song, would shrink into rills, by the side of 
 the Hudson, or the Potomack. He remem- 
 bers with what an overflowing hand nature has 
 poured out her riches on the soil of the new 
 world ; and he is unable to reconcile the gene- 
 ral appearance of Tuscany, and Romagna, with 
 the idea of a country, on which nature has be- 
 stowed her gifts with lavish profusion. He 
 contrasts, too, the fallen magnificence and lan- 
 guid air of her cities, with that increasing pros- 
 perity and promise of future greatness, that is 
 every where visible in America. 
 
 Whilst his mind is wholly occupied with this 
 comparison, he is apt to overlook circumstances, 
 in the present condition of Italy, which endear 
 her to the classick mind. He, perhaps, does not 
 reflect how long this soil has been trodden down 
 by the foot of man, — how long it has yielded its 
 annual tribute to the labours of the husbandman, 
 — how long it has been fatigued by the toils of 
 glory : — how often armies of barbarians rush- 
 ing from its mountains, and more withering in 
 their progress than Alpine blasts, have swept 
 over the surface, of this fair peninsula. Every 
 where it exhibits scars of human violence ; —
 
 every object announces, how long it has been 
 the theatre of man's restless passions ; — every 
 thing bears evidence of its complete subjection 
 to his power. The moral and intellectual gran- 
 deur of Italy, like that of her architectural mo- 
 numents, is mutilated and faded. Her civil and 
 political institutions are exhausted and decrepid, 
 and are hastening to their extinction, by a rapid 
 declension. Yet in this land, where the works 
 of art and human policy are bowed beneath the 
 weight of years, nature is still as youthful as in 
 the golden age, and, as if she delighted to dis- 
 play her creative energy, and her imperishable 
 dominion on the very spot where time has le- 
 velled the structures of art ; the ruins of pala- 
 ces and temples are dressed in the choicest offer- 
 ings of Flora, and the twice blooming rose of 
 Psestum* glows with undiminished beauty, in 
 the midst of scenes of decayed magnificence, 
 and smiles on the brow of desolation. 
 
 Reflections of this kind, when they have 
 their full operation upon the mind, have a ten- 
 dency to diminish the force of those early im- 
 pressions, which are apt to render an American 
 
 * Biferaque rosaria Paesti.
 
 insensible to the charms of this interesting 
 country. His taste, without losing any of its 
 discriminating power, becomes more vigorous 
 and enlightened ; a new species of beauty, is 
 unveiled to his perceptions, and a source of re- 
 fined enjoyment opened, as soon as he learns 
 to subdue the influence of early habits and local 
 associations. 
 
 In America, the prodigal fertility of nature, 
 and that colossal greatness,- by which she has dis- 
 tinguished the features of the new, from those 
 of the old continent, divert the attention from 
 her more delicate and concealed charms. Untu- 
 tored by art, she riots with a juvenile vigour, 
 and plays " her virgin fancies" uncontrolled. 
 She is an artist who negligent of lesser graces, 
 astonishes even the dullest observer, by a crea- 
 tive brilliancy. But there are, in the scenery of 
 Italy, latent and refined beauties, which only 
 the eye of taste can discover. 
 
 Our country is not picturesque. How often 
 in attempting to delineate her inimitable form, 
 has the hand of the artist fallen in despair ? 
 This, in my opinion, constitutes the principal 
 distinction betw.een our trans-atlantick scenes,
 
 5 
 
 which defy the imitation of the pencil, and those 
 of a country, whose natural beauties lie within 
 a narrow compass, are heightened by classical 
 and moral associations, and have an appearance 
 ©f being purposely arranged for the canvass. 
 
 A gentleman, for whose judgment and taste 
 I have the highest esteem, told me at Messina, 
 that he could not overcome his dislike to the na- 
 ked and exposed appearance of Sicily and Ca- 
 labria, which convinces me, how difficult it is 
 for an American to resist the influence of associ- 
 ations formed at a period of life, when the sensi- 
 bilities are unworn, and the heart and the ima_ 
 gination peculiarly susceptible of impressions 
 from external objects. The land of Sicily and 
 Calabria, composed as it is for the greater part 
 of lava, wears, at a distance, an appearance of 
 sterility. But this illusion is corrected upon ex- 
 amining more narrowly the properties of the 
 soil, and the rich variety of plants and flowers it 
 spontaneously produces. A drapery more lux- 
 uriant would be prejudicial to its beauty ; ex- 
 tensive forests would obstruct the view of the 
 outline of the distant mountains, or conceal 
 the surface of a country, gracefully diversified by 
 hills and vallies, and dressed by the hand of cnl-
 
 tivation. Poussin and Claude Lorraine might 
 here have studied the theory of their art, so har- 
 moniously combined are all its features, and so 
 happily blended are the colours of the sea, the 
 land and the sky, to please the eye and enchant 
 the imagination. Having doubled the south- 
 most point of Calabria, the country of Theocri- 
 tus presents itself before you. The cerulean* 
 waves that encircle it, appear still to be the fa- 
 vourite haunt of sea-gods, and syrens, and its 
 enchanting shores still seem to echo with the 
 complaints of the despairing Galatea. The dark 
 luxuriant foliage of the orange, intermixed with 
 the pale verdure of the olive, and the large flow- 
 ering aloe, which displays its broad leaves upon 
 the summits of the nearest hills, form the princi- 
 pal features of the Sicilian shores, while opposite, 
 Calabria stretches to the foot of the snowy Ap- 
 
 * To those who have navigated the Mediterranean, 
 it is perhaps unnecessary to remark, how much deeper 
 and more vivid its colours are, than those of the ocean. 
 In the neighbourhood of Sicily, I have seen it of a deep 
 violet colour, and have frequently remarked the same 
 appearance in the Adriatick. Hence, Virgil's " mare 
 purpureum," Lord Byron's "purple of ocean," expres- 
 sions, the beauty and propriety of which, are not easily 
 nnderstood, by an inhabitant of the north of Europe.
 
 penines, its rich fields and vineyards, gay with 
 country houses and villages. Contrasted with 
 these scenes of delicious repose, is the busy 
 city of Messina, its port crowded with Levant 
 ships, and its mixed population diversified with 
 Moorish and Asiatick costumes, collected in 
 groups on the quay, or basking in the sun, 
 and as is the custom of the south, alternately 
 relapsing from a state of vigorous exertion, into 
 a state of unmanly indolence. 
 
 This country has an aspect of such sweetness 
 and innocence, that you would suppose it to be 
 the residence of angelick natures. But in the 
 bosom of this soil, so pregnant with flowers, 
 are nourished earthquakes and volcanoes, and 
 this peojale so gentle and so blandishing, are the 
 descendants of those who conceived and execut- 
 ed the horrid tragedy of the Sicilian vespers. 
 
 The father of poetry has given an eternal in- 
 terest to the straits of Messina. — Scylla and 
 Carybdis! — At these names, how many classi- 
 cal images and associations are awakened ! The 
 echo of the waves upon the Calabrian shore, 
 produce a sound at midnight which the stillness 
 of the hour, assisted by the witchery of fancy, 
 may transform into the howlings of Scylla.
 
 V 
 
 But the light of the morning dispels theromantick 
 illusion, and the eye seeks in vain for any vestige 
 of Scylla, except a little village that has usurp- 
 ed the appellation, — and where "fell Carybdis" 
 raged, is now the haunt of Sicilian fishermen. 
 But hoary tradition and poetick fancy still hover 
 over the scene, and present to memory the de- 
 lightful narratives of the Odyssey, — its won- 
 derful adventures, — its lively portraiture of man- 
 ners, while the understanding recognises, and 
 the heart feels the moral truth illustrated by the 
 hero of the fiction : 
 
 " quid virtus et quid sapientia possit, 
 
 Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssem 
 
 I have heard Italians say that the beauty of 
 the Sun and Moon in Italy was alone^orth tne 
 attractions of all other countries put together. 
 Making due allowance for a portion of national 
 enthusiasm in this remark, it is far from being 
 wholly destitute of foundation. Nature has not 
 only moulded the features of Italy with pe- 
 culiar delicacy and grace, but has taken pains 
 to exhibit her favourite work in the happiest and 
 most alluring lights. Italy derives additional 
 charms from its Sun, its Moon, and atmosphere. 
 The air oi its mountains is blue, and the rays
 
 of the Sun glowing through a mass of transpa- 
 rent vapour, gild all objects with tints that al- 
 most realize the visionary light with which the 
 imagination of Virgil has illuminated the ideal 
 scenery of his Elysium — 
 
 Largior hie campos aether et lumine vestit, 
 Purpureo. 
 
 In Italy, the Moon is a pale Sun, giving 
 to the face of this beautiful country a lan- 
 guid and voluptuous expression. The ruins of 
 the Coliseum, and St. Peter's Church, when 
 viewed by moonlight, diffuse over the fancy a 
 melancholy charm ; and a similar sensation is 
 experienced in contemplating the effect of the 
 same planet upon the romantick scenes of Tivoli, 
 and the cascades of the Ttverone, tumbling and 
 sparkling beneath its beams. In Sicily and Ca- 
 labria, — the picturesque beauties of which I 
 have selected as particular illustrations of some 
 of these general remarks, — I have watched 
 the gradation of brilliant tints, exhibited in 
 these countries, by the morning sky, chang- 
 ing gradually from the deepest crimson, to 
 the brightest saffron, and realizing those de- 
 scriptions, so familiar, yet so dear to the 
 recollection of every reader of the classical 
 poets of Greece and Italy, Nor were the
 
 10 
 
 evenings less beautiful. The sun-beams lin- 
 gered upon the hills, and twilight impercep- 
 tibly faded away, as if unwilling to withdraw 
 from scenes on which it reposed with so much 
 softness and beauty. 
 
 It may be said, that the beauties, I am here 
 speaking of, are produced by accidental causes 
 and depend on the variations of the atmos- 
 phere. In northern climates, it is true; that the 
 epithet accidental has been justly appropriated 
 to this class of beauties* ; but in Italy, the 
 causes, whatever they are that produce them, 
 are so constant, and invariable in their operation, 
 that an Italian confides in the brightness and se- 
 renity of his climate, as implicitly as in the 
 uniformity of any of the physical laws of 
 nature. 
 
 Yet I would not be understood in this com- 
 parison of Italy with America, to give the prefe- 
 rence to the former. Independently of the sacred 
 attachment which must indissolubly bind the 
 heart of every American to the moral and poli- 
 tical institutions of his own country, it possesses 
 
 * " L'imagination des habitans du nord," says Madame 
 de Stael, " tache ainsi de se composer une nature d'ltalie; 
 "et pendant les jour brillans d'un ete rapide l'on parvi- 
 « ent quelque fois, a s'y tromper." l'allemagne.
 
 11 
 
 attractions which cannot be diminished by the 
 longest residence in the most favoured climes 
 of Europe. His moral principles severe and 
 pure, — his taste unvitiated by artificial refine- 
 ments, — yet delicately alive to the nobler and 
 finer impulses of the soul, — the young Ame- 
 rican, under the bright skies of Italy, and 
 encompassed by the dazzling achievements of 
 art, often sickens at the depravity and misery 
 of man, and languishes for his native home. 
 His imagination presents to him, its untrodden 
 wilds, — its waste fertility, as an image of man 
 unsophisticated by artificial society. He con- 
 trasts the youthful governments of America, 
 which have grown up unfashioned by the 
 hand of hoary-headed prejudice, with those of 
 Italy, fabricated by despotism and superstition. 
 If America can boast no stately palaces, no 
 monuments of ancient grandeur, she is ex- 
 empt from the miseries which follow in the train 
 of arbitrary power. If no ancient fortresses, 
 no ruined convents, crown the tops of its hills, 
 or frown upon the summits of its mountains, 
 it is because the peaceful vales beneath have 
 never owned the sway of feudal or monastick 
 tyrants. These are inestimable blessings, and 
 incomparably of more value than that empty 
 but fatal splendour for which the price of li- 
 berty and happiness must be paid. — Some
 
 12 
 
 facts alluded to in the ensuing pages will, 
 I flatter myself, place in a strong light the happy 
 condition of this country, compared with that 
 of others, and shew 
 
 What makes the nations smile, 
 Improves their soil, and gives them double Suns j 
 And why they pine beneath the brightest skies, 
 In nature's richest lap. 
 
 America affords a great diversity of soil and 
 climate, and in certain situations we may enjoy 
 gales as pure, and skies as fair, as those of Italy.* 
 
 * The following is an extract from Mr. Bracken ridge's 
 Views of Louisiana. One would suppose he was de- 
 scribing the climate of Italy. "I confess, that to me, 
 "nature never wore an aspect so lovely as on the lonely 
 " plains of the west. From their dry and unsheltered 
 " surface, no damp and unwholesome vapours rise to les- 
 ** sen the elasticity of the air, or dim the brilliant blue of 
 " the heavens. So transparent is the atmosphere, that a 
 "slight smoke can he discerned at the distance of many 
 " miles, which curiously exercises the caution and saga- 
 "city of the fearful savage, ever on the watch to destroy, 
 "or avoid destruction. And then that sublime immensity 
 " which surrounds us. The sea in motion is a sublime ob- 
 ject; but not to be compared to the varied scenes that 
 " here present themselves, and over which the body as 
 H well as the imagination is free to expatiate. The beams 
 "of the sun, appeared to me, to have less fierceness, or 
 " perhaps this is owing to the cool breezes which continu- 
 " ally fan the air, bringing upon their wings the odours of 
 " myriads of Powers."
 
 13 
 
 In proportion, too, as the national taste becomes 
 refined, and as a love for picturesque embellish- 
 ment increases, the classical beauties of the lat- 
 ter will be gradually transplanted to our soil, and 
 its own grand features, which no art can im- 
 prove, be intermixed with scenes as soft and 
 as delicate as those of the Alban Lake. The 
 saffron tints of our autumnal skits resemble 
 those of the country I have been describing ; 
 and our moon only wants ancient ruins to 
 adorn, to make her the same enchantress of the 
 night, she is in Italy. 
 
 I am also ready to subscribe to the opinion, 
 that much of the interest which Italy excites, 
 arises from adventitious causes. As it has been 
 for many ages the theatre of great events, its 
 rivers, its mountains and lakes, possess, inde- 
 pendently of their natural beauty, a mighty in- 
 fluence over the imagination. A mind pregnant 
 with the stores of classick literature, derives from 
 the contemplation of these objects, enjoyments 
 which cannot be imparted to a person destitute of 
 the rudiments of a liberal education. It is, there- 
 fore, unfair to compare with it, a country, the 
 events of whose history, are yet too few and re- 
 cent to afford a stimulus to the imagination. Ame- 
 rica, which yet affords few materials for epick
 
 14 
 
 and draraatick poetry, sinks by comparison with 
 a country, embellished by the charms of fiction, 
 and which is constantly soliciting the attention, 
 by the power of those moral associations it 
 awakes in the heart. The impressions pro- 
 duced by her wild beauties and unborrowed 
 charms, are faint by comparison, with the emo- 
 tions felt in traversing ground ennobled by illus- 
 trious events, and heightened by the magical 
 colouring of poetry and tradition. Yet it 
 cannot be denied, that objects, in themselves 
 incapable of affording any intellectual pleasure, 
 oftentimes acquire an undue ascendant over 
 the mind by the power of association ; and I am 
 apt to believe, in comparing Italy with other 
 countries, the enthusiasm of the scholar has 
 lent a brilliant colouring to this region of classi- 
 cal events, which has sometimes betrayed him 
 into incautious and exaggerated encomiums. I 
 have often been astonished, at the powerful 
 impressions I have received from objects, 
 which, had I met them in any other country, 
 I, perhaps, should have regarded with indiffer- 
 ence. Surely, I have frequently exclaimed to 
 myself, these woods, hills and streams, which 
 I now behold with feelings that overpower me, 
 yield in beauty and sublimity, to our trans-atlan- 
 tick scenery. From what cause, then, do tjiey
 
 15 
 
 derive their extraordinary influence over the 
 imagination ? — -From their connexion with 
 some of the most eventful periods of time. 
 Here, at every step, we tread on the ruins of a 
 mighty empire ! A fractured column, — a dila- 
 pidated wall, — a broken architrave, — often pro- 
 duces the most powerful excitement in the 
 imagination, by bringing before it, personages 
 and events, whose history has left a deep and 
 permament impression on the sensibilities of 
 childhood. The dazzling exploits of valour, — 
 the heroical sacrifices made to love of country, — 
 to conjugal affection, — to parental duty, — to 
 filial piety, — the high and pleasing examples of 
 moral and intellectual excellence, — heightened 
 by the eloquence of the historian, and the fancy 
 of the poet, are identified with names that one 
 hears daily pronounced by the common people 
 of Italy. " Je demandais l'autre jour," says 
 Corinne, " a une pauvre femme que je rencon- 
 " trai, o« elle demeurait ? A la roche Tarpei- 
 " enne, me repondit-elle ; et ce mot, bien que 
 " depouille des idees qui jadis y etaient attachees, 
 " agit encore sur l'imagination." — On ne pro- 
 " nonce pas le nom du Tibre comme celui des 
 " fleuves sans gloire ; e'est un des plaisirs de 
 " Rome que de dire : Conduisez-moi sur les 
 11 bords du Tibre ; trover sons le Tibre. II sem-
 
 16 
 
 " ble qu'en pronon9anr ces paroles on evoque 
 " l'histoire et qu'on ranime les morts."* — 
 
 I can imagine a period equally remote from 
 its origin, when the American nation, looking 
 backward into time, will feel all the moral in- 
 terest, which an Italian now feels, who combines 
 in one view the present and the past, and whose 
 imagination associates with the soil he treads, 
 those visions of glory, which will forever live in 
 the song of the poet, and the narratives of the 
 historian. Italy, vain of the lustre of her ac- 
 quired fame, timorous and slothful, in a state 
 of inglorious indolence, contemplates her fa- 
 ding splendour. While America, active and 
 daring, emulous of solid greatness, is vigour- 
 ously employing all her resources, moral and 
 physical, in the construction of such a fabrick 
 of power and of social refinement, as shall sur- 
 pass every masterpiece of political skill, that 
 has hitherto existed ; and when the creations of 
 the muse shall have given to every section of 
 our country the same charm which they have 
 bestowed upon Italy, our soil, over which nature 
 has profusely scattered her beauties, will pos- 
 sess an inspiring influence, equal, if not supe- 
 riour, to this favoured region, where poetry has 
 gathered her choicest flowers. 
 
 * Madame de Stael.
 
 17 
 
 The moral and intellectual character of 
 nations is sensibly influenced by climate. The 
 difference is so great, in point of genius and 
 disposition, between the people of the north and 
 those of the south, that Montesquieu does not 
 scruple to make it the foundation of some part 
 of his reasonings concerning the philosophy 
 of jurisprudence*. According to the theory 
 of this great civilian, those peculiarities in the 
 
 * " Dans les pays froids, on aura peu de sensibilitc 
 " pour les plaisirs ; elle sera plus grande dans les 
 " pays temperas ; dans les pays chauds, elle sera ex- 
 " treme. Comme on distingue les climats paY les de- 
 " gres de latitude, on pourroit les distinguer, pour ainsi 
 "dire, par les degr^s de sensibilite. — Vous trouverez 
 *• dans les climats du nord des peuples qui ont peu de 
 "vices, assez de vertus, beaucoup de sincerity <§• de 
 " franchise. Approchez des pays du midi, vous croi- 
 " rez-vous eloigner de la morale meme ; des passions 
 " plus vives multiplieront les crimes ; chacun cher- 
 " chera a prendre sur les autres tous les avantages 
 " qui peuvent favoriser ces memes passions." Mon- 
 tesquieu, de VEsprit des Laix. Liv. xiv. chap. 2. 
 4
 
 18 
 
 legal constitutions and political, condition of the 
 States of Asia, which distinguish them from 
 those of Europe, may be traced to physical 
 causes. In warm countries, where men are ad- 
 dicted to criminal excesses of the passions, the 
 penal code ought to be more sanguinary than 
 in those situated under colder latitudes. 
 
 In the north, the cheerless and withered as- 
 pect of nature, and the long duration of the 
 night, check that redundancy of life, and that 
 pruriency of imagination, engendered by the 
 genial climates of the south, and which, when 
 freed from moral and legal restraints, are so apt to 
 overflow in wantonness and crime. A country 
 whose surface is impressed with the melancholy 
 hues of winter, will communicate its own cha- 
 racter of severity to the manners as well as fea- 
 tures of its inhabitants. Here the mind, find- 
 ing little entertainment without, turns its atten- 
 tion inward upon its own operations. Such situa- 
 tions are, of course, favourable to the formation 
 of those intellectual habits, which are connected 
 with depth of feeling, and philosophical genius ; 
 while gaiety, fancy and wit, will generally be 
 the portion of a people, placed in a country, 
 where the softness of the climate and the beau- 
 ties of nature, compel the mind at every mo-
 
 19 
 
 ment v to attend to a rapid succession of external 
 impressions. 
 
 The inhabitant of the south, more lively and 
 quick in his powers of external perception, 
 marks with a rapid and distinguishing eye, the 
 delicate features of material beauty ; whilst 
 the inhabitant of the north, discriminates more 
 nicely, the shades of moral character ; fathoms 
 with more celerity of thought, the motives of 
 the heart, and, in short, penetrates farther into 
 the regions of the soul. The peculiar habits of 
 thought, produced by climatical causes, are no 
 where more discernible than in that art, which, 
 in all its higher efforts, reverts to the first im- 
 pressions, and first language of nature. There 
 is a vast difference between the poetry of the 
 north and the poetry of the south. The muse of 
 the north has for her empire the regions of the 
 mind. She delights in pourtraying the terrifick, 
 as well as the softer lineaments of the soul. Her 
 strains are tender and sublime, but they are of- 
 ten too melancholy and abstract. The genius 
 of southern poetry, loves more the "thoughts 
 that breathe," than the " words that burn." 
 She paints with delicacy the beautiful colouring 
 and graceful forms of external matter. Her 
 numbers are rich in harmony, and sparkle with
 
 20 
 
 imagery ; but they rather warm the imagination, 
 than impress the heart. 
 
 In rigorous climates, man is sq often neces- 
 sitated to defend himself against their influence, 
 that he finds himself perpetually engaged in a 
 conflict with the elements, and is at every mo- 
 ment compelled to feel and acknowledge a power 
 greater than his own. In consequence of the 
 hardships of his situation, he becomes moral and 
 contemplative. 
 
 How differently organised is man in the south 
 of Europe. Under the refulgent skies and balmy 
 atmosphere of Italy, bare existence amounts to 
 positive enjoyment, and life glides away in a suc- 
 cession of voluptuous impressions.* The rus- 
 
 *" La beaute du climat, les charmes de la contempla- 
 " tion et de 1'indolence dans ces heureuses contiees 
 " paraissent y preparer a des reveries pastorales ; les 
 rt mceurs memes des paj'sans italiens s'en rapprochent 
 "pins que celles d'aucun autre peuple. II n'yaurait 
 f' point eu besoin, pour les poetes, de recourir a 1'Arca- 
 " die ; les collines de Sorrento ou le Tasse etait ntf, les 
 " rives du Lekete, ou quelque valine paisible et reculce 
 " du royaume de Naples auraient pu tout aussi bien etre 
 " la sc^ne ou il aurait place ses bergers idealises, sans 
 "les detacher des moeurs et des usages de son temps." 
 ~~8ismotidi i de la literature du Midi.
 
 21 
 
 ticks of Calabria, with flowers and garlands in their 
 hats, march to the labours of the field, with a 
 musician at their head, and stop occasionally on 
 their way to dance ; and I have, at this moment, 
 present to my imagination, the scenes and country 
 festivities which I have witnessed in Tuscany, 
 which might have furnished Milton with the 
 smiling images of his Allegro. A Neapolitan 
 Lazzaroni, if he be not stimulated by hunger, 
 when required to work, will spurn your oner, 
 and, pointing to his mouth and stomach, will 
 explain by his gestures, that his appetite is satis- 
 fied, and that he has no farther use for money. 
 This effect of climate, when not counteracted 
 by moral or political institutions, produces a 
 character capable of great virtues and great 
 vices. In Naples, the Lazzaroni go half naked, 
 and are represented as entirely destitute of the 
 sense of shame. The existence of a state of 
 savagism in the midst of a great capital, is a 
 phenomenon that has attracted the attention of 
 every philosophick traveller. In America, some- 
 thing similar takes place on the borders of the 
 frontier States. There we often see individuals 
 renouncing the steady, but unvaried occupations 
 of regular industry, and preferring to the plea- 
 sures of civilized society, the wandering and ro - 
 mantick life of the savage. In the ecclesiastical
 
 22 
 
 States the peasantry not unfrequently relinquish 
 the labours of the field, and, disguising them- 
 selves, mix with troops of Banditti ; and after a 
 season, laying aside their predatory habits, re- 
 turn and resume the character and occupations 
 of peaceful villagers. A more efficient govern- 
 ment would remedy this evil in Romagna ; for 
 a mode of life, where the mind is kept in a state 
 of perpetual excitement by the vicissitudes of 
 hope and fear, is not unpleasant,* and laws are 
 necessary to prevent men from falling into it. 
 
 The moral and intellectual character, particu- 
 larly of the southern Italian, like that of the savage, 
 is passive ; but he is not like the savage roused to 
 action by the impulse only of the animal appe- 
 
 *" Dans ce pays, ou la plupart des hommes se sont 
 " abandonnes a une mollesse si eftemiriee, quelques-uns 
 " secouant le joug de la socij-t^, pour s'abandonner sans 
 " reserve a leurs passions, ont vecu en guerre avec l'or- 
 u dre public, et n'ont jamais pu etre forces a l'obeissance 
 " par les gouvernemens pusillanimes, dont ils avaient 
 " secoue le joug. A la fin du seizie.ne siecle, un due 
 " souverain de Monte Mariano, Alfonse Piccolomini. 
 '.< se fit chef de brigands, et continua plus de dix ans cet 
 " strange metier. Plus fiequemment, les gentilshommes 
 " du pays de Naples ont fait de leurs fiels et de leurs 
 "chateaux l'asile des bandits, qu'ils employaient pour 
 " leurs querelles prirfees."— -Sismondi, de la Literature, 
 du Jlidi.
 
 23 
 
 tites. Living in a country where there remain 
 so many splendid vestiges of civilized man, and 
 where there exists such a variety of objects to 
 exercise the imagination, and furnish a perpe- 
 tual source of enjoyment to the most refined 
 taste, his passions and desires have a range as 
 unbounded as the objects of society. The arti- 
 ficial restraints of polished life, operating how- 
 ever with less force upon the Italian, suffer all the 
 natural beauties and deformities of their character 
 to appear. The same stimulus which rouses 
 them to crime, often displays itself in acts of 
 generosity and beneficence. In them, caprice 
 is the parent of the most lovely, as well as of the 
 most cruel and vindictive passions; and their 
 unforced gaiety, — their acts of liberality and 
 kindness, interest the affections far more than 
 that strained mirth, and that dull and measured 
 hospitality, which is the effect of a system of so- 
 cial intercourse, less indulgent to the genuine 
 expression of the heart. 
 
 In this country we are too apt to confound in 
 one general idea, the Italian and the French 
 character. We inadvertently transfer to the 
 former, the heartless gaiety of the latter. From 
 want of opportunities of making a fair and just 
 comparison, we slightly discriminate some ana-
 
 24 
 
 logous'traits in the characters of the two nations, 
 which may be, and are, indicative of moral qua- 
 lities totally different. Both, it cannot be denied, 
 are equally advanced in moral corruption. But 
 better hopes may be entertained of a people, 
 whose moral sensibilities, though depraved, are 
 not destroyed; than of one, among whom there 
 prevails a system of society — at war with inge- 
 nuousness of character, — which has a tendency to 
 chill the glow of imagination, and to extinguish 
 that juvenile fire of the soul, from which the 
 more exalted virtues derive their birth and 
 nourishment. The sceptical vivacity of the 
 Frenchman, deadens his heart to every glowing 
 image of virtue, and leads him to reject as fal- 
 lacious, every conclusion in which may be dis- 
 covered the slightest tincture of sensibility or 
 enthusiasm. The gaiety of the Italian is not 
 incompatible with the most intense and profound 
 emotions of the heart. It is not the product 
 of art, but the boon of nature. It is the over- 
 flowing of a mind, warmed by generous feel- 
 ings or excited by images of happiness. — Almost 
 all the virtues and vices of the French c haracter 
 may be traced to the principle cf vanity. A 
 passion for distinction of some kind or other, 
 pervades, in France, all classes of the commu- 
 nity. Her philosophers, her poets, and her
 
 25 
 
 statesmen, feel and obey this powerful incen- 
 tive. Cardinal Richelieu envied the great Cor- 
 neille his reputation ,• and was more desirous of 
 being thought a bel esprit, than the first politi- 
 cian of his age. It was a petty ambition of sin- 
 gularity, that led Rousseau to publish a recapi- 
 tulation of all the mean and senseless acts of his 
 past life, and to unveil to the world the moral 
 diseases of his nature. — This nation, too, has 
 been remarkable under all its forms of govern- 
 ment for combining the most brilliant valour, 
 with the most elegant polish, and even effemi- 
 nacy of manners. The French officers, at the 
 call of honour, fly from the toilet and drawing- 
 room to the camp, and rush from the silken 
 softness of a court life, amidst the toils and as- 
 perities of war. Their passion for personal de- 
 coration, for cockades, stars and ribbands, is pro- 
 verbial ; and it is well known with what effi- 
 cacy Buonaparte employed these playthings, to 
 strengthen the foundation of his power. 
 
 If this vanity is sometimes the source of great 
 and shining qualities, it is the parent, too, of that 
 refined coquetry which is so prejudicial to the 
 integrity of the heart. There is no country in the 
 world, where the exteriour decencies of life arc 
 more systematically taught, than in France ; nor 
 
 5
 
 26 
 
 at the same time, is there any, where there exists 
 so little moral sensibility, or where the culture 
 of the heart is more shamefully neglected. The 
 word aimable, in their vocabulary, signifies no 
 more than that external polish of manners, which 
 is acquired by extensive intercourse with the 
 world. That abandon de sot meme, that forget- 
 fulness of one's self, which is so often met with 
 in Italy, and which is so interesting when uni- 
 ted with elegant accomplishment, is a stranger 
 to the higher circles in France. Hence, the 
 Italians have been accused of a want of ,shame ; 
 a sentiment which is often confounded with 
 false delicacy, which is the creature of artificial 
 society. " J'ai vu des pretres," says Dupaty, 
 " danser avec des jeunes demoiselles, et ce 
 " n'etoit pas un scandale. II y a plus, ce n'etoit 
 " pas un ridicule car ici, les sexes, les dignites» 
 " les ages, n'ont ni costumes ni pretention, ni 
 " biensseanee quilesdistinguentetles separent." 
 
 It has been justly remarked, that the source 
 of many of the good and bad qualities of the 
 Italian nation, is their want of vanity. They 
 act or suffer from interest, from glory, or from 
 love ; but rarely from vanity. The passion of 
 love among the French, however it may be 
 painted in their romances, is a cold, calculating
 
 27 
 
 sentiment. This god, who is so omnipotent 
 in their novels, in real life submits to the laws 
 ol social convenience. Love scenes in France, 
 are the episodes of life ; they relieve and diver- 
 sify, but they seldom break or disturb the 
 unity of the main action, or violate the laws of 
 decorum and consistency. In Italy, love is a 
 passion which absorbs every other ; a devour- 
 ing flame, that not only bursts from the restraints 
 of decency, but consumes whatever obstructs 
 its progress. This moral agent, which, in other 
 countries, is personified under a form of infan- 
 tine beauty and imbecility, in Italy, is a tre- 
 mendous divinity, stained with human gore, 
 and lighting his torch at the firebrand of the 
 furies. I question whether any but an Italian 
 relishes, in all their exquisiteness, these cele» 
 brated lines of Dante : 
 
 Quando risposi, comminciai : o lasso 
 Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio 
 Mend costoro al doloroso passo !* 
 
 The character of the Italians is generally 
 considered indolent and effeminate. Suscepti- 
 ble, in a high degree, of external impressions, 
 
 * The history of Paulo and Francesca of Rimini. 
 See Dante's Inferno, Canto V,
 
 28 
 
 his imagination lively, and his passions warm, 
 the Italian is addicted to sensual pleasures. 
 But these he can renounce at the call of honour 
 or ambition. When we consider the former 
 warlike character of the Italians, their present 
 enthusiasm, and patient devotion to the arts, 
 we ought not rashly to adopt the opinion, that 
 all their energies are irretrievably sunk in the 
 languors of luxury. There is, perhaps, no 
 people in the world who are more easily roused 
 to a tone of lofty and passionate feeling.* 
 Over a nation, endowed with a temperament 
 like this, moral and political institutions pos- 
 sess a mighty influence. In the task of reform- 
 ing, or establishing a government, the States- 
 man would here have a purchase, by which 
 he might produce a momentum, far greater 
 than he would be able to accomplish, under 
 opposite circumstances. 
 
 * How forcibly does the following remark of Montes- 
 quieu apply to this people. " La nature, qui a donne a 
 " ces peuples une foiblesse qui les rend timides, leur a 
 * donne aussi une imagination si vive, que tout les frap- 
 " pe a 1'exces. Cette nieme delicatesse d'organe qui 
 " leur fait craindre la mort, sert aussi a leur faire redou- 
 ** ter mille choses plufs que la mort. C'est la meme 
 " sensibilite qui leur fait fair tous les perils. & les leur 
 " fait tous braver."
 
 29 
 
 The character of the modern Italian is form- y 
 ed by his government. Unsolicited by the 
 calls of honour or ambition, and encompassed 
 by pleasures in their softest and most seducing 
 shapes, his passions precipitate themselves on 
 low and unworthy objects. His life passes with- 
 out dignity. A government, in which the mass 
 of the people would be admitted to some share 
 of power, would elevate the tone of publick 
 feeling, and cure that shameless relaxation of 
 morals, which, at present, disgraces their no- 
 bility. 
 i 
 
 Many persons think it a misfortune, that 
 Buonaparte had not time to mature the benefi- 
 cial plans he intended for Italy. If, indeed, 
 he was sincere in his intentions of restoring 
 Italy, every philanthropist must regret his pre- 
 cipitate fall from power ; or, rather, he must 
 lament that immeasurable and restless ambition, 
 which rendered his destruction necessary. Had 
 he confined the operations of his beneficence to 
 Italy and Spain, he would there have found 
 matter sufficient to employ the powers of his 
 genius. Not a few, however, have doubted 
 the efficacy of his plans of regeneration, and 
 ascribe all the good he produced, to the arbi- 
 trary and overbearing temper of his govern-
 
 3Q 
 
 ment. Be this as it may, he has contrived to 
 endear to him the affections of the people of 
 Italy. How he has effected this, I shall en- 
 deavour, hereafter, to explain. For the pre- 
 sent I must believe, that, notwithstanding it is 
 highly probable that the changes he produced 
 would have led the way to a better state of 
 things hereafter, Buonaparte never contemplat- 
 ed such a scheme of government for Italy, as 
 would have raised her to her former eminence. 
 
 - 
 Whoever dwells with enthusiasm on the civil 
 and military institutions of that people, who 
 once subjugated the globe, and admires those 
 prodigies of genius and valour who presided in 
 her councils, and led her armies to victory ; or 
 contemplates Italy in the softer light of dawn- 
 ing science, when the virtues and talents of 
 Lorenzo de Medici diffused a brightness over 
 the destinies of Florence, and revealed, in pros- 
 pect, the golden days of Leo ; when the Vene- 
 tian, the Etruscan, and Roman States, contend- 
 ed with each other in freedom and the liberal 
 arts — must, upon reflection, find all analogies 
 drawn from the past history of Italy fail, when ap- 
 plied to her during the period of her subjection 
 to France. Buonaparte might have disinterred 
 the antique ruins of Rome, and might have 
 beautified it with publick walks and gardens ;
 
 51 
 
 but if any one believes that this would have 
 raised her from her fallen state, he is little ac- 
 quainted with the true sources of political 
 greatness, and with the moral causes of the de- 
 cline of that renowned capital. 
 
 Similarity of customs, of language and taste, 
 gives an uniform aspect to the whole Italian 
 peninsula. In a country where the intimate 
 union of its parts is favoured by so many cir- 
 cumstances, no one can contemplate its present 
 weak and distracted condition, without senti- 
 ments of regret and pity ; nor can we expect 
 to see Italy shake off the distempers, which, at 
 present, render her existence so cheerless and 
 languid, until, by an extraordinary effort of 
 virtue, or by some desperate convulsion, she 
 tears from the hands of her impotent sovereigns, 
 those lacquered sceptres, in the glare of which 
 she sickens and decays. 
 
 The model of government best adapted to 
 Italy, is not that of any of the unqualified re- 
 publicks. It has few advocates among the en- 
 lightened of this part of Europe ; although the 
 lower order of Tuscans and Venitians cherish 
 a sort of undefined hope, partly nourished by 
 the memory of their former independence and
 
 32 
 
 political consequence, and partly infused into 
 them by the emissaries of Napoleon, whose 
 magnificent promises inflamed them with a 
 vision of liberty he never intended to realize. 
 
 The model of the antique republick, is ra- 
 ther to be admired than imitated. If the thing 
 were possible, — to revive the ancient Roman 
 form of government,* would render the state 
 of the Italians even worse than it actually is. 
 That republick, which nourished in its tu- 
 multuous bosom the elements of conquest, 
 which derived its external force from a state of 
 internal weakness and dissention, is not calcu- 
 lated for the present moral and political state of 
 the world. 
 
 A government, the constituent branches of 
 which, should be distributed according to the 
 
 * We may remember that this was a favorite idea of 
 Machiavelli. — •' iNello ordinare le republiche, nel man- 
 " tenere gli stati, nel governare i regni, nell' ordinare 
 "latnilizia ed aclministrare laguerra, nelgiudicarci sud- 
 " diti, nello accresscere lo imperio non si trova n£ princi- 
 "pe, ne republica,ne capitano, ne cittadinojche agli esem- 
 " pi degli anfichi rtcorra. II che mi persuado che nasca 
 " dal non avere vera cognizione delle istorie, per non 
 " trarne, leggendole, quel senso, ne gustare di loro quel 
 " sapore che 1c hanno in se." — Discorsi lib. J.
 
 33 
 
 different interests of which society is composed, 
 would remedy her domestick evils, and render 
 Italy a respectable and efficient member of the 
 great European commonwealth. Her nobility 
 immersed in sensual pleasure, because her go- 
 vernment does not present to them objects to 
 fire their ambition to excel in science or in 
 war, would renounce their low pleasures and 
 frivolous amusements, to play a nobler part in 
 the cabinet and the field. A system of com- 
 merce, foreign and domestick, bottomed on 
 the true principles of political economy, — a sys- 
 tem of revenue drawing its funds, not from the 
 necessitous class of the, community ; but nour- 
 ished from the source of exuberance, — an im- 
 partial and energetick administration of justice, 
 would secure to this country a state more dig- 
 nified and happy, than even that portrayed in the 
 lofty encomiums of the poet. 
 
 Salve magna parens frugum saturnia tellus 
 Magna virum." 
 
 The reader will judge how far some of 
 these general remarks are supported by the de- 
 tails, which I am to oifer in the ensuing pages. 

 
 34 
 
 A fair wind carries you in a few days from 
 the southmost point of Italy to Trieste, the rich- 
 est city in Italian Illyria, and at present the 
 most promising and flourishing port in the Em- 
 perour of Germany's dominions. The soft at- 
 mosphere and bright skies of the Mediterranean, 
 and the verdure and flowers with which its Is- 
 lands are bordered by an eternal spring, are, in 
 the short space of a week, exchanged for the 
 gloom and severity of a Scythian landscape ; for 
 such commonly during the winter, is the aspect 
 of the country which immediately surrounds 
 Trieste. The winds which brought me within 
 view of this scene, were not the gales of the 
 south, filled with the fragrance of the orange 
 groves of Calabria ; but boisterous tramontanes, 
 armed with frost from the icy caverns of the 
 Alps. Day -light, which discovered to us the 
 surface of the Adriatick, foaming with the storm 
 shewed us the city of Trieste, with its country- 
 houses rising one above another on the sides of 
 the neighbouring hills. Every object wore the 
 melancholy livery of winter. On our left rose 
 the Alps ot Tyrol — their peaks glowing w r hh pur-
 
 * 35 
 
 pie stains of light, were mingled with the rich 
 colouring of the clouds, that rested upon them. 
 The snow upon the hills, — the leafless vine- 
 yards that covered their sides, — the smoke ho- 
 vering over the city, — its buildings, constructed 
 with a view to comfort more than to beauty, 
 conveying an idea of the honesty, plainness, and 
 solidity of the German, rather than of the plea- 
 sures and elegance of the graceful and ardent 
 Italian ; whilst they forced me to recollect with 
 regret the gay scenery and cheerful climate of 
 the south, admonished me likewise, that the 
 part of Italy I now beheld was not the fairy -land 
 of poetry and tradition, which imagination claims 
 for her domain. 
 
 Speaking a few days after my arrival, to an 
 Italian, of the difficult navigation of the Adri- 
 atick, I mentioned the obstinate gales we had re- 
 cently encountered. He smiled and said, nnn era 
 niente ctiuna Borina, the diminutive of Bora,* 
 which signifies a wind far more terrible than 
 any which I had felt. Indeed the aspect of this 
 country is that of a region pregnant with storms. 
 The gulph is enclosed by the Julien and 
 Tyrol i an Alps, upon whose vast magazines of 
 
 *Bora is used for Borea, by Caro, in his transla 
 t.ion of the Eneid.
 
 36 
 
 snow, piled up to the clouds, it is impossible 
 even to look without being chilled. Around 
 the city rises an amphitheatre of huge hills, on 
 whose lofty summits no sign of vegetation ap- 
 pears. In these elevated situations the clouds 
 collect, and driving before them sleet and rain, 
 wither every plant they meet in their progress 
 over the vallies. The Bora is the rudest of all 
 the Alpine blasts, that infest the Adriatick. 
 Collecting in its passage over regions of snow 
 their icy particles, it sweeps down upon Trieste 
 with the fury of a levanter. It does not blow 
 uniformly and steadily, but in puffs, which 
 shake to their foundations the most solid edi- 
 fices. A wind of this description would be at 
 tended with serious consequences to the ship- 
 ping and harbour, if it were accompanied with 
 a corresponding swell and agitation of the sea ; 
 but as it seldom reaches to a great distance from 
 the land, its effect upon the Adriatick is incon- 
 siderable. Ships are, however, in danger of 
 being driven by it from their stations, and 
 carried to sea with inconceivable velocity.' 
 To prevent such accidents, the late French 
 government caused a number of vast piers to be 
 sunk in the harbour, for the convenience of 
 mooring vessels, which without this security, 
 would scarce be able to resist the violence of 
 the Bora.
 
 37 
 
 Sometimes too, the Siroc, collecting all its 
 fury, and darkening the whole southern hemis- 
 phere, rolls mountain -billows into the harbour 
 of Trieste. These storms, although they are of 
 shorter duration than the Bora, are attended 
 with far more danger, and present a scene which 
 when its terrours are aggravated by midnight, 
 rivals in awfulness and sublimity the descrip- 
 tions of poetick fancy. The bursting of the 
 waves into the very streets of the city — the in- 
 undation of its moles and quays, sweeping 
 into the sea the stores and merchandise with 
 which they are generally laden — the shrill sound 
 of the wind among the rigging of the vessels — 
 the cries of the mariners — ships driven from 
 their anchorage and stranded on the beach, or 
 dashed violently one against another, are some 
 of the principal incidents of the spectacle, which 
 the harbour of Trieste presents, when assailed 
 by the fury of the south wind. 
 
 Dux inquieti turbidus Adriae, 
 
 Quo non arbiter, 
 
 Major tollere seu ponere vult freta. 
 
 But in summer, when the Adriatick is re- 
 signed to the dominion of the zephyrs, its tran-
 
 38 
 
 quil surface throws an air of softness and re- 
 pose over the landscapes on its shores, which 
 then become the resort of gaiety and pleasure. 
 The promenade called St. Andrea, made by 
 the French government, extends from the city 
 along the edge of a breezy precipice. Here par- 
 ties assemble to enjoy the beauty of the pros- 
 pect and the freshness from the water. Greeks 
 and Albanians are seen carelessly lying on the 
 very brink of the precipice, or reclining on beds 
 of flowers watching some arrival from their na- 
 tive country, or indulging the reveries of fancy 
 in contemplating the blue expanse before them, 
 spotted with fishing boats, and ruffled only by 
 the gentlest winds. 
 
 All vessels arriving at the port of Trieste, 
 are subject to its quarantine laws. These laws, 
 which are rigorously enforced against all ves- 
 sels from the Levant, are sometimes relaxed in 
 favour of Americans and Europeans ; so that 
 while some are doomed to a probation of forty 
 days, our term of confinement did not exceed 
 seven. But the strong desire of liberty every 
 one feels, who has been long confined to the deck 
 of a vessel, made it appear to us much longer. 
 The strange appearance too of our fellow-pri-
 
 39 
 
 soners, Greeks, Jews, Turks, and Armenians. 
 To me, who love to contemplate human na- 
 ture, as it is variously fashioned by custom and 
 political institutions, the national manners and 
 costumes of these people, afforded matter for 
 amusing remark. 
 
 I was regularly awakened every morning by 
 the matin song of a Greek, who lodged op- 
 posite to my apartment, and who chaunted in 
 a voice disagreeably nasal and monotonous, the 
 popular airs and ballads of his native country. 
 I was incensed to hear the language of Sappho 
 and Anacreon so disgraced, and listened with 
 impatience to the perversion of those harmo- 
 nious sounds, which 
 
 warbled to the string, 
 
 Drew iron teirs down Pluto's cheek, 
 And made hell grant what love did seek. 
 
 But he was the gayest inhabitant of a place, 
 where every countenance was shaded by the 
 gloom of captivity, and seemed to languish 
 with that " sickness of the heart which arises 
 from hope deferred." If the demon of ennui 
 haunts the captive, within the bovvers of plea- 
 sure, well may he find victims within the walls
 
 40 
 
 of a gloomy Lazaretto, To behold from a 
 state of confinement the world at a distance, 
 and be debarred the privilege of entering its 
 cheerful and busy scenes, is a cruel species of 
 tantalism, where desire continually mocked by 
 a vain shadow of enjoyment, languishes in 
 view of its object. 
 
 My sensations, after passing the gate of the 
 Lazaretto, superadded a charm to every thing 
 interesting I saw ; and the most indifferent objects 
 I encountered appeared to possess the grace 
 of novelty. The multitude of new faces 
 a traveller sees, when he first arrives among 
 a strange people, with whom he has no re- 
 lation, except that of a common nature, are 
 apt to depress him. A populous city is a 
 dreary solitude to him who finds in it no one 
 to share his pleasures and solicitudes. But 
 when the heart is gratified and happy, the kin- 
 dred features of humanity, in every human be- 
 ing about us, spontaneously unveil themselves. 
 There is in all countries a language spoken, 
 " to which every heart is an echo ;" and to ob- 
 serve in different nations the workings of the 
 same passions and affections, manifesting them- 
 selves from behind the disguises and artifi- 
 cial modifications of society, seldom fails to
 
 41 
 
 inspire those feelings of comprehensive benevo- 
 lence, which teach us to regard as one great 
 family, all moral and intelligent natures. 
 
 The people of Trieste, were just beginning 
 to engage in the pleasures and diversions of the 
 carnival. As the opera forms no inconsidera- 
 ble part of these amusements, I anticipated the 
 delight I should enjoy in the evening, in wit- 
 nessing the performance of Italian artists, from 
 whose reputation I was led to form high ex- 
 pectations. Upon entering the theatre, I did 
 not find its effect upon the spirits so enlivening, 
 as that of the French or of the English opera, 
 where the saloon, lighted up by a multitude of 
 lustres, and filled with beautiful women, at- 
 tired in all the glitter of dress, makes the most 
 delightful part of the spectacle. I did not see 
 a single lady in full dress, — nor is this to be 
 wondered at, in a theatre illuminated in a man- 
 ner better calculated for scenick effect, than for 
 the display of beauty and fashion. As a por- 
 tion of the population of Trieste, consists of emi- 
 grants from Turkey and the Greek Islands, 
 I looked round in expectation of beholding 
 some of the matchless beauties of Circassia and 
 Greece, and hoped to discover, beneath the 
 shade of turbans, those unrivalled features and 
 7
 
 42 
 
 Complexions, which all travellers allow the wo- 
 men of the east. But if any of these " earth 
 treading stars" were present, their rays were 
 not sufficiently luminous, to dispel the sur- 
 rounding obscurity. I saw no Fatimas, no Leil- 
 las, or Gulnares. Trieste, though an exten- 
 sive mart for all the other rich products of the 
 Levant, exhibited on this occasion, no specimens 
 of beauty, from the vales of Cashmere, or the 
 banks of the Illissus. 
 
 The sounds of the orchestra no sooner struck 
 my ears, than I recognized the exquisite execu- 
 tion of the German artists. The opera, entitled 
 Gli pretendenti delusi, opened with a charm- 
 ing duet between the Prima donna, and the Te- 
 nore. The Primo Buffo, was the first in Italy, 
 and sang the arias with inimitable grace, and hu- 
 mour. In Italy, it is the fashion to be inatten- 
 tive to the recitative parts of the opera, but 
 when the orchestra pauses, and the actor comes 
 forward to the front of the stage, and announces 
 to the audience by his looks, that he is going to 
 sing the aria, a general silence immediately fol- 
 lows. A similar pause in conversation takes 
 place at the commencement of the ballet, which, 
 as may readily be conceived, has powerful at-
 
 A3 
 
 tractions for a people, upon whohi the spells of 
 beauty, and the enchanting power of graceful 
 motion, act with an irresistible fascination. 
 
 The subject of the ballet, was taken from the 
 story of Jason and Medea. The addition of 
 any novel attractions, to a tale, familiar to every 
 school-boy, would, at first, seem to involve dif- 
 ficulties almost invincible. But the resources 
 of art are unlimited, and the history of the chief 
 of the Argonauts and his spouse, although a 
 hacknied tale, and although degraded from the 
 dignity of the epopee and the drama to a panto- 
 mine, appeared with a renovated lustre that in- 
 stantaneously seized upon the attention of the 
 spectator. The poetry of Euripides does not 
 operate upon the fancy and the heart, with a 
 sway more irresistible, than that succession 
 of magical illusions, which compose this bal- 
 let, and by which the artist reaches through the 
 senses the finer organs and nobler passions of 
 the soul. Terpsichore, on this occasion, show- 
 ed herself the rival of Melpomene, or rather 
 the latter, abdicating her dignity, and bor- 
 rowing the enchanting graces of her sister 
 muse, appeared with no less additional loveli- 
 ness than Juno, when she shone with all those
 
 ineffable attractions conferred upon her person, 
 by the possession of the zone of Venus. Looks 
 often dart the contagious fire of poetry, more 
 than the most forcible and brilliant composition of 
 words ; and the musick which unites its ravish- 
 ing spells, to the irresistible enchantments of 
 grace, and heightens the expression of elo- 
 quent and living attitudes, is a natural lan- 
 guage, in its effect analogous to those passion- 
 ate and sentimental tones in the human voice, 
 which constitute the charm of declamation. 
 The impassioned character of Medea was beau- 
 tifully portrayed ; the ballerina who personat- 
 ed it, gave to it all the effect of which it was 
 susceptible. — The discovery of her husband's 
 passion for the daughter of Creon, and its ef- 
 fect upon her mind, were happily conceived 
 and forcibly expressed by this female artist; 
 while the musick of the orchestra painted 
 to the ear, the furious agitation of the ago- 
 nized and distracted mind of Medea. 
 
 Thy numbers jealousy to naught were fixed, 
 Sad proof of thy distressful state, 
 Of differing themes the veering strain was mixed, 
 And now it courted love, now ravins called on hate.
 
 45 
 
 The struggles of maternal tenderness in the bo- 
 som of Medea, before she executes her horrid 
 purpose, and the grief of Jason for the loss of 
 his murdered children, shone in colours 
 truly dramatick, and might illicit tears. The 
 sorceress's visit to the infernal regions, her coun- 
 tenance pale with jealousy, yet meditating re- 
 venge, the terrour which seemed to shake her 
 whole frame at the moment she is to invoke the 
 powers of hell, to assist her in the execution of 
 her diabolical scheme of vengeance, — -the dances 
 of the furies around her, their torches illuminating 
 the scene with a terrifick glare, and to crown the 
 whole, Medea borne aloft through the air in her 
 car, drawn by fiery dragons, evinced in the Ita- 
 lian artists, a superiority of skill in the machines 
 and decorations of the stage, which made me re- 
 collect the French theatre, where I have some- 
 times in the like manner suffered my spirits to 
 be borne along by a succession of passive enjoy- 
 ments, and where encompassed by the illusions 
 of the ballet, or enchanted by the syren song 
 of the opera, I have feasted to satiety at that 
 banquet, where reason resigns her authority and 
 leaves the fancy to indulge in all the luxury of 
 visionary delight. 
 
 The art of pantomine is carried to a high de- 
 gree of excellence, among a people of a lively
 
 / 
 
 46 
 
 and ardent imagination. It is so natural for 
 such a people, to employ the language of ges- 
 ture to express their feelings ; and a mode of 
 communication to which men at first were led, 
 by a necessity imposed upon them by the limi- 
 ted stores of language, in the earlier stages 
 of its formation, has been continued from choice, 
 and cultivated as an embellishment. 
 
 The highest degree of perfection attainable 
 in this art, may be looked for among the Ita- 
 lians, who appear to possess beyond any other 
 people, that muscular flexibility of countenance } 
 by means of which it suddenly and sponta- 
 neously reflects the emotions of the heart. The 
 causes which render the human countenance so 
 sensitive, and delicate an organ of intellectual 
 communication, and which make it so faithful a 
 mirrourofwhat passes within the mind, are not 
 more to be ascribed to a particular physical con- 
 formation, than to the prevalence of taste and 
 mental elegance, arising out of a particular state 
 of society. 
 
 Independent of that forcible and impassioned 
 style of gesture, by which nature has charac- 
 terised the Italian nation, the classick forms of 
 antiquity, which they have continually before 
 their eyes, naturally fashion them to a
 
 47 
 
 standard of grace ; and, indeed, omitting the 
 consideration of a cultivated taste, the con- 
 tinual presence of these models of the beau ideal 
 would lead them insensibly to acquire a habit 
 of expressing their thoughts and sentiments in 
 the most poetical attitudes. Thus the French 
 and Italian ballets, frequently recal to the fan- 
 cy, the fine forms of painting and statuary, 
 which acquire additional interest, when heigh- 
 tened by every varying expression, and the fu- 
 gitive and evanescent charms of the living mo- 
 del. Even the ideal fictions of the muse, when 
 clothed with shape and colour, and exhibited 
 in a visible form to the spectator, produce a 
 more pleasing effect, than when presented di- 
 rectly to the mind, without the intervention of 
 the senses : the creative power of the imagi- 
 nation being slightly, if at all exerted, while it 
 receives passively its impressions, through the 
 organs of external perception. 
 
 This class cf pleasures, however, when in* 
 dulged to excess, has a tendency to render the 
 taste effeminate and sickly, by weakening those 
 mental energies upon which its vigour and 
 soundness depend. Hence that fondness for pue- 
 rile novelties, and meretricious ornaments, and 
 that insensibility to the charms of unadorned
 
 48 
 
 nature, and often to the real and indisputable 
 beauties of art, which commonly distinguish 
 the votary of fashionable pleasure, a charac- 
 ter I will venture to assert, as incapable of 
 estimating justly the real excellencies of moral 
 character, as of deriving enjoyment from the 
 productions of imagination. 
 
 The pleasures of the theatre, are heightened 
 or diminished, according to the nature of the 
 feelings and ideas which have previously en- 
 gaged the attention. Where the mental ener- 
 gies have been impaired by an uninterrupted 
 succession of passive impressions, which by 
 powerfully and continually exciting it to fresh 
 enjoyment, have left it exhausted of all sensi- 
 bility to pleasure, a potent stimulus is required 
 to awaken its perceptions, and to rouse to the 
 slightest exertion an imagination palsied by the 
 surfeit of perpetual delight. This, however, on 
 the present occasion at least, was not my case. I 
 came prepared by a previous abstinence to the 
 banquet, with an appetite that required no unna- 
 tural stimulus to rouse it to a sense of plea- 
 sure. My attention was irresistibly seized by 
 the objects about me. — The company — the de- 
 corations of the theatre— the dances— all conspir- 
 ed to exhilirate by their novelty, one whose eyes
 
 49 
 
 were weary with contemplating the monotonous 
 prospect of the ocean, and whose ears had been 
 long fatigued with the musick of the winds, and 
 the voice of the billows. 
 
 Some further observations, which I propose 
 making, on the Italian theatre in general, I 
 shall reserve for a future opportunity, and shall 
 at present dismiss the subject, for one that 
 seems more immediately to solicit attention. 
 
 Notwithstanding the frowns of the winter, 
 rendered still more severe by the inhospitable 
 situation of Trieste, which exposes ic to the 
 buffets of every Alpine wind, and to all the 
 storms that vex the Adriatick, this city exhi- 
 bited all the gaiety of an Italian carnival. The 
 spirit of traffick which is so inimical to pleasure, 
 and which forms a leading feature in the charac- 
 ter of the middle class of Triestins, was over- 
 powered and suspended by the return of that sea- 
 son, which brings with it an oblivion on all 
 care and business. I could not but observe 
 many, whose dress bespoke the last degree of 
 wretchedness, who, in joining in the sports of 
 the carnival, seemed to forget the hardships of 
 their condition. Some carried in their hands a 
 small earthen pot with a few coals in it, over 
 8
 
 50 
 
 which they warmed their fingers. Others, with 
 their hands in their bosoms, stood listening to a 
 poor German or Swiss Orpheus, who charmed 
 them with his guitar, on which he played a lively 
 waltz, or sang a wild Helvetian hunting song, 
 in which fancy heard the echoes of the Alps. 
 
 In the evening, the windows of the shop 
 in the Corso, afforded a curious display of masks 
 and dominos, mixed with a profusion of splen- 
 did dresses, — the antiquated trumpery of courts 
 and the discarded paraphernalias of theatres. 
 Here, once a year at least, the meanest artizan 
 might strut the monarch, and "dressed in robes 
 of brief authority, play fantastick tricks," and 
 the kitchen-maid, like Cinderella, without the 
 intervention of a fairy, be clothed in the twink- 
 ling of an eye, in the glittering apparel of 
 a princess. Here might be seen a sportive 
 Italian, attiring herself in the costume of a 
 Tyrolian girl, — a Craniohn peasant, disguising 
 his Herculean frame, in robes designed for a sof- 
 ter shape and daintier limbs, — a heavy German 
 mimicking with his thick accents, and clumsy 
 gestures, the ready pleasantries and comick 
 feats of a Venetian harlequin, — and a jack tar 
 hiring for the night, the powdered wig
 
 51 
 
 embroidered coat, spangled vest, and chapeau 
 de bras of a French marquis. 
 
 There were some masks that appeared to be 
 copies, of that countenance of ideal beauty, 
 exhibited in the works of the Greek statuaries ; 
 others, on the contrary, represented semi-hu- 
 man faces, which recalled those monsters, with 
 which the creative and playful imagination of 
 Ariosto, has peopled the environs of the beau- 
 tiful Alcina's residence. 
 
 Non fu veduta mai piu strana torma 
 Piu monstruosi volti in peggio fatti 
 Alcun dat collo in giu d'uomini han forma 
 Cal viso altri di scimie, altri di gatti. 
 
 The hour of assembling is midnight ; and the 
 opera house the temple of those impure rites 
 and nocturnal mysteries, which " the bitter 
 day would quake to look on." The mask 
 is no sooner put on, than the veil of mo- 
 desty is laid aside. Women and men abandon- 
 ing themselves to the intoxication of pleasure, 
 appear to be ready to engage in unexampled 
 feats of libertinism. An impure lire that is con- 
 tagious, appears to infect the very atmosphere of 
 the room, and to cheat the senses with illusions. 
 The endearing expressions of cam and bella mas- 
 cherina, pronounced in a soft falsetto note, vibrate 
 sweetly upon the ear. The understanding is
 
 52 
 
 subjugated by the power of musick, and the 
 voluptuous dances of the waltz and the manfrino, 
 exalt the spirits to that giddy height, which ac- 
 complishes the destruction of many a fair Be- 
 linda, although encompassed with all her aerial 
 guards. 
 
 The rules of refined gallantry, are dispensed 
 within an assembly where all are in disguise and 
 supposed to be unknown ; the dress and per- 
 son of a lady in mask, are, it is true, inviola- 
 ble, but there is no law of courtesy which ex- 
 empts her from the insolence of rude and licen- 
 tious language. As at court, the hoop petti- 
 coat puts the finely shaped maid of honour 
 upon the same foundation with a hobbling 
 dutchess, so at these vigils of fashion, the 
 mask levels all the distinctions of face. It 
 is sometimes the lot of grey hairs and wrin- 
 kles, to receive the passionate vows, due to 
 youth and loveliness. Many a veteran masker, 
 skilled in the frauds by which young hearts are 
 deceived, feels her withered cheek rekindled 
 with blushes, by the amorous impatience of her 
 deluded lover. Sometimes the mask is suf- 
 fered to fall, and all her imaginary attractions 
 vanish with the talisman whieh gave them an 
 existence ; while the sorceress herself derives
 
 53 
 
 a species of diabolical gratification from the 
 pain of her disappointed vvoer, when he finds, 
 
 .... contra ogni sua stima, in vece 
 
 Delia bella 
 
 Donna si laida che la terra tutta, 
 
 Ne la piu vecchia avea, ne la piu brutta. 
 
 I almost imagined the hall in which I stood 
 to be enchanted, and that around me Comus 
 or Circe were dealing their wizzard spells ; and 
 so ready is the mind to assist these illusions, by 
 conjuring up all that memory and fancy can 
 supply, to lend them additional force, that if 
 the judgment were not vigilant to repress them, 
 like a dream, they would overpower the senses, 
 and produce a temporary belief in the wildest 
 incongruities of fiction. How natural is it for a 
 person, dazzled by the novelty of such scenes, 
 to retire from them repeating the words of 
 Prospero, 
 
 . . . their revels now are ended ; these the actors, 
 
 » . were all spirits, and 
 
 Are melted into air, into thin air : 
 
 A few days before the carnival ceases, its 
 pleasures begin to reach their acme, and then 
 the concourse of masks and spectators becomes 
 so great, that all the principal streets and pub-
 
 54. 
 
 lick places are crowded ; carriages filled with 
 ladies attired in elegant masquerade dresses, 
 pass in procession through the principal streets, 
 and these fair masks provoke the attention of 
 the by-standers, by hurling into their faces 
 handfuls of sugar plumbs. Among these is 
 seen many a ludicrous figure on foot, or riding 
 a donky, or driving a cabriolet. The evening 
 preceding lent, all assemble at an early hour at 
 the vegtione, and the carnival now at its close, 
 collects together the whole population of the 
 place, and vanishes in all its splendour. Mid- 
 night is no sooner announced, than the hall is 
 emptied and the lights extinguished. The 
 bacchanals of pleasure retire from the scene, 
 wearied and exhausted with their long cam- 
 paign of gaiety, and the first morning of the 
 ensuing lent, lifts its pale ray upon many a pa- 
 ler countenance, doomed to expiate the sins of 
 the carnival by all the rigour of abstinence and 
 prayer. 
 
 The influence of masquerade's upon the mo- 
 ral and social habits of a people, is of sufficient 
 importance to point it out, as an object of so- 
 licitude, to every government, but more espe- 
 cially to those with whose political and moral 
 institutions, the principles of liberty are inter- 
 woven. Even under monarchies, where, per-
 
 55 
 
 - 
 
 haps, the practice cannot be eradicated, its nox- 
 ious luxuriance may, and ought to be repress- 
 ed. It would be entirely subversive of the mo- 
 rals of a republick, and if introduced into 
 America, would infallibly banish those virtues 
 which in point of manly morals and social com- 
 forts, justly entitle this country to the fore- 
 most rank among nations. 
 
 The picture which I have endeavoured to 
 draw of an Italian masquerade, may serve as 
 an illustration of the truth of this remark. 
 From observing its effect upon individuals, we 
 may form a just conception of its influence 
 on society in general. The profligate manners 
 of the higher and lower orders in the great 
 cities of Italy, no doubt spring from this 
 source, as well as from its voluptuous climate, 
 and the want objects to call into activity the mo- 
 ral and intellectual energies of the nation. The 
 brilliant carnival of Venice accelerated the fall 
 of that republick. The Venetian nobility, 
 whose policy it was to debase the minds of the 
 people, by offering to their love of pleasure its 
 appropriate nourishment, withdrew their pas- 
 sions from higher objects, and unfitted them 
 for exercising a control over the higher classes, 
 as well as for any effort to unveil that secret
 
 56 
 
 policy, by which the pretensions of a proud 
 aristocracy were upheld. This unhappy sys- 
 tem of government was, in the end, as fatal to 
 the interests of the nobility, as to those of the 
 people. While that opulence has disappeared 
 which formerly gave an unrivalled splendour to 
 her carnival, Venice still retains all those low 
 and sordid vices, to the nourishment and propa- 
 gation of which, this publick amusement ma- 
 terially contributed. 
 
 The suppression of unlawful pleasures, and 
 the regulation of publick morals, enters as lit- 
 tle into the policy of Austria, as it did into the 
 government of the Venetian nobles. But plea- 
 sure is not so efficient an engine of state ambi- 
 tion at Vienna, as it was at Venice. 
 
 No effort of conciliatory policy on the part 
 of Austria yet, has effaced in the minds of the 
 Triestins, the recollections of a state imme- 
 diately preceding the present, which if not more 
 prosperous, they describe as considerably hap- 
 pier. Independent of those powerful antipathies 
 to the house of Austria, so long cherished by 
 Italy, there are secret laws of attraction by 
 which the Italian character is more easily amal- 
 gamated with that of the French, than it ever
 
 57 
 
 can be with that of the Germans. As this is a 
 subject which appears to me to be connected 
 with some preceding remarks of a general na- 
 ture, on the actual state of the publick mind 
 in Italy, the reader here will indulge me in 
 the liberty of a few additional comments. 
 
 During the term of general Bertrand's admi- 
 nistration, the French yoke sat lightly on the 
 necks of the Triestins, and the introduction 
 of the code Napoleon — the suppression of 
 some abuses and antiquated formalities, in the 
 administration of justice — the publick works 
 of ornament and utility begun and finished 
 under his direction, compensated them for the 
 loss of their commerce, and the early spolia- 
 tions of the French government.* Its heads 
 
 *The remoteness of the situation of Trieste, for some 
 time exempted it from the operation of Buonaparte's 
 anti-commercial decrees, during which the south of Ger- 
 many, Switzerland and Italy, were supplied through this 
 port with British commodities But its flourishing trade 
 could not long escape the ever watchful eyes of the French 
 government, and troops of (douaniers.) custom-house 
 officers were stationed on the shores of the Adriatick, 
 to enforce the fundamental laws of the French empire. 
 "When I was in France in 1810, Las Cases^ whu accom- 
 panied Buonaparte to St. Helena, and who was for- 
 merly one of the blindest worshippers of this idol of the 
 9
 
 58 
 
 of departments liberally expended their sa- 
 laries, and the circulation of their revenues, 
 created a deceitful appearence of prosperity, 
 into the true sources of which the mass of 
 the people were as little disposed, as they 
 were incompetent to inquire. Publick balls, 
 festivals, and illuminations were given at its 
 expense, to flatter that indolence and love of 
 idle shew, which forms so prominent a feature 
 in the Italian character. Every one who knows 
 any thing of the functionaries of the late French 
 government, knows that parsimony was not 
 among their vices. They sometimes bestow- 
 ed their largesses upon the people with an un- 
 sparing hand. This made them the favourites 
 of the Italian inn-keepers, a loquacious tribe, 
 
 French people, was to be deputed to the Illyrian provin- 
 ces. The object of this mission, was to close the ports of 
 the Adriatick, and to afford Las Cases, so deeply versed 
 in physical geography, room for the exercise of his inge- 
 nuity, in opening new sources of territorial aggrandise- 
 ment. The forcible possession of this port by the French, 
 the restrictions to which its commerce was immediately 
 subjected,-— the heavy contributions imposed upon its citi- 
 zens, and the seizure of private property to a conside- 
 rable amount, if they passed over the heads of the low- 
 er classes, fell with a destructive weight upon commer- 
 cial credit, the fortunes of the monied interest, and the 
 profits of great capitalists.
 
 50 
 
 who seize every opportunity of eulogizing 
 them to strangers. I was at Trieste when 
 Prince Schwartzenberg arrived there, and 
 lodged at the same locanda, where the Prince 
 and his suite were accommodated. In the 
 morning the cameriere, who in Italy always 
 personates the f padrone J landlord, gave me a 
 pathetick account of the distresses of the coun- 
 try, since the expulsion of the French ; but 
 the topicks he dwelt on most were, the parsi- 
 mony and (Economical mode of travelling of 
 the Austrians, contrasted with the prodigality 
 and splendid retinues of the French. He 
 spoke with rapture of the visits of Jerome Buo- 
 naparte to Trieste, the sums which he distri- 
 buted among the servants of the inn, and the 
 splendid donations of Napoleon himself, when- 
 ever he visited his Italian dominions, — "Ah! 
 Signore, allora pioveva la moueta, maadesso" — 
 and concluded his account with execrating the 
 laurels of Blucher and ' Wellington, as the 
 cause of the scarcity of cash, and the suspen- 
 sion of those golden showers, in which the po- 
 litical Jupiter of France descended into the 
 embraces of his beloved Italy. 
 
 This ostentation in the functionaries of 
 France, was partly the effect of vanity, but
 
 60 
 
 more an artifice of ambition, dictated by pro- 
 found policy. It served to dress the naked 
 acts of despotism in an imposing brilliancy. 
 The faux brilliant of the late French govern- 
 ment, like a meteor fed by the vapours of 
 putrefaction, seemed to augment its lustre in- 
 proportion to the foulness of the source from 
 which it emanated ; and its fascination over the 
 common mind, appeared to increase in a direct 
 ratio, to the boldness and profligacy of the mea- 
 sures it was designed to palliate or conceal 
 with a veil of dazzling splendour. 
 
 To the motives which already have been as- 
 signed, of a preference in the minds of the 
 Triestins for the French, may be added others 
 which are more rational and solid. Ecco tin'' Ope- 
 ra di Napoleone, is almost the continued excla- 
 mation of a Triestin to a stranger, when he 
 surveys those works of publick usefulness and 
 ornament, to which he is anxious to direct his 
 attention. The French have left behind them 
 in this place, monuments which remind its in- 
 habitants every moment of some good qualities 
 in this light and frivolous people, which render- 
 ed them worthier of empire than their present 
 lords ; and if any thing could justify the immea- 
 surable ambition of their late chief, and excuse
 
 61 
 
 his crimes, it was that promptitude with which 
 he seized and executed the most comprehensive 
 plans of national aggrandisement, which of- 
 ten led him in the loftiness of his views, 
 to overlook individual interests and feelings, 
 to which every general system of policy must 
 conform. During the term in which they had 
 possession of this port, they effected almost 
 wonders, in conquering some of those natural 
 disadvantages, which Trieste, perhaps more 
 than other harbour in Europe, labours under. 
 They beautified its environs with publick walks, 
 and laid the foundations of some noble improve- 
 ments, which have since slowly advanced un- 
 der the government of Austria. The parti- 
 sans of this government attempt to excuse its 
 supineness, by pleading the present embarrass- 
 ed state of the publick finances, as if these fi- 
 nancial difficulties were not themselves the most 
 ^unequivocal symptoms of the constitutional 
 vices of a weak and improvident govern- 
 ment. 
 
 The steadiness and vigour with which the 
 French government directed its resources, ena- 
 bled it to accomplish the most difficult under- 
 taking with a celerity resembling the operations 
 of magick, and the hesitating and cautious
 
 62 
 
 procedure of the Austrians, is the more con- 
 spicuous, as it appears in contrast with that 
 promptitude and energy which carried into im- 
 mediate effect, the plans of their predecessors. 
 Buonaparte has left in this quarter of Europe, 
 the outline of many a noble undertaking, but 
 it is only the outline that he has left ; no ar- 
 tist bred in the present school of politicks, 
 can be found with abilities sufficient to finigh 
 the designs of so great a master. 
 
 In addition to the acknowledgments due to 
 him for improvements, from which the city of 
 Trieste derives a solid and permanent benefit, 
 there was an evil incident to this, as to most 
 of the cities in Italy, for the partial removal 
 of which he is equally entitled to its gra- 
 titude. He found the population of beggars at 
 Trieste immense ; some were pressed into the 
 military service, while the aged and the infirm* 
 were employed in such light tasks, as enabled 
 them to earn a comfortable subsistence ; by 
 which means, the distresses of this most un- 
 happy class ol human beings were relieved, 
 and society freed from an app hension of those 
 hardy and atrocious crimes, to which these 
 wretches were often incited, by the hoplessness 
 of their condition, or impelled by the pressure
 
 63 
 
 of immediate want. I need not inform the rea- 
 der, that the relief afforded to the lower orders, 
 was a consequence of his disposition to im- 
 prove and beautify his Italian dominions, which 
 we have seen formed so conspicuous a fea- 
 ture in the policy of Napoleon, and which was 
 the more meritorious, as it could furnish no 
 positive accessions of opulence, or power to 
 France, its beneficial effects being local, and 
 sometimes, as in the case of Trieste, confined to 
 a small territorial district. By pursuing the same 
 course of policy in Italy, he in a great mea- 
 sure suppressed that frightful spectacle of men- 
 dicancy, which marred so much the pleasures 
 and beauties of her classick scenes. 
 
 Since the war, Trieste has been inundated 
 by beggars ; an evil which is considered by its 
 inhabitants as a consequence of its annexation 
 to Austria ; whether their doctrine be supported 
 by facts, will appear in the course of some en- 
 suing observptions ; it is certainly one to which 
 the human mind is led by some of its most ob- 
 vious and natural conclusions. The single ar- 
 gument of hunger, is more powerful than a 
 volume of syllogisms, nor can we expect the 
 Italians, restless and indignant as they are, un- 
 der the yoke of Austria, to take a comprehen-
 
 64 
 
 sive and dispassionate survey of things, — ad- 
 mitting them to be in errour, — and that a view 
 of the actual state of Europe, on a more exten- 
 ded scale, would banish the delusion from 
 their minds. 
 
 ■ 
 
 But this scene of misery in the inferiour walks 
 of society, is not confined to Trieste. It com- 
 prehends the neighbouring towns and villages, 
 and extends over the adjacent districts and pro- 
 vinces. Many well attested cases of persons 
 dying of absolute hunger, were cited to con- 
 firm the representations, made on all hands, of 
 the sufferings of the poor. I have repeatedly 
 seen groups of these unhappy wretches, ea- 
 gerly searching the polluted offal of the kitchen, 
 for something to satisfy the imperious cravings 
 of nature. In some parts of the Venetian and 
 Milanese territories, many of this unfortunate 
 class of sufferers, have supported life by feed- 
 ing on grass and raw vegetables. But I shall 
 confine myself, for the present, to the descrip- 
 tion of that porion of misery, exhibited by 
 the province of Istria and its vicinity. 
 
 Udine, a noble and spacious city, situated 
 in the midst a of fertile plain, under a mild sky, 
 and watered by the beautiful streams of the
 
 65 
 
 Isonzo and the Tagliamento, once contained 
 near an hundred thousand inhabitants. It can- 
 not, at present, reckon a population of more 
 than one fourth of that number; but the de- 
 serted air of this fine city, is not the only strik- 
 ing circumstance of its present condition ; a 
 multitude of objects of compassion, present 
 themselves in all the publick places to the tra- 
 veller, with claims so urgent on his charity, as 
 are beyond his power of resistance. At the 
 numerous intersections of the roads leading to 
 the different villages and towns, his passage is 
 intercepted by crowds of old men, women and 
 children, whose dress and aspect bespeak a con- 
 dition of wretchedness, of which we have no 
 example in America. 
 
 The actual state of Goritzia combined with 
 that of Udine, carries with it an irresistible 
 conviction that there is a fault at the head-quar- 
 ters of this great empire. Goritzia maintain- 
 ed formerly an extensive and flourishing export 
 commerce with Carinthia, Carniola, and Trieste, 
 which since has dwindled into almost nothing ; 
 and the consequent drain of specie has left it 
 almost without a circulating medium. Even 
 while it was the theatre of hostile operations, 
 and exposed to the terrours and rageful pas- 
 10
 
 66 
 
 sions of war, its prosperity received no wounds 
 so incurable as those under which it suffers in 
 this season of profound peace. 
 
 When at Goritzia, I became acquainted with 
 the Count di T , descended from an an- 
 cient noble family of that country, and perhaps, 
 the wealthiest individual in it. I found him high- 
 ly accomplished, uniting with the engaging ad- 
 dress of a polite and finished gentleman, and 
 man of the world, a fund of information on 
 every subject ; but particularly well acquaint- 
 ed with the politicks of the empire, and their 
 practical operation upon that portion of the 
 country which came within the immediate 
 sphere of his observation. He drew a compari- 
 son between the former and present condition 
 of Goritzia, which was by no means calculated 
 to impress a stranger with a favourable idea 
 of the Austrian government. His statement 
 of facts corroborated the impressions I my- 
 self had received at varioust times, front 
 circumstances which fell within the range of 
 my own observation. He also informed me that 
 in the course of a discussion provoked by 
 the Emperour, he ventured to unveil to 
 him the real state of the country, and pro- 
 posed such a system of measures as he deemed
 
 67 
 
 safe and efficacious ; that the Emperour ac- 
 quiesced in what he said, and gave him assur- 
 ances of relief; but that subsequent to this 
 conversation he met the minister of finance, 
 who reprimanded him for the objectionable doc- 
 trines he had so freely communicated to his 
 Majesty, and stated to him arguments which 
 he thought amounted to a refutation of these 
 doctrines. But the Count, whose confidence in 
 his own views, was too well founded on fact 
 and positive testimony, to be shaken by the 
 subtleties of a mere financier, in a still bolder 
 strain of expostulation reiterated the charge 
 of incapacity in those, whose efforts to over- 
 come the fiscal difficulties, and to prop the, 
 falling credit of a great empire, evinced no 
 abilities superiour to what are employed in 
 conducting the operations of a banking insti- 
 tution. 
 
 In districts less favoured by nature, the dis- 
 tress is far greater, and the emigrations of beg- 
 gars from the impoverished villages of Istria 
 and Carniola, inundate the towns on the sea- 
 coast, where commerce still continues to main- 
 tain a face of prosperity, that has vanished in 
 the interiour.
 
 68 
 
 Among the general causes of this impoverish- 
 ment may be reckoned, the ruinous effects of 
 a depreciated paper currency,— the failures of 
 considerable manufactories, — a want of enter- 
 prise in the employment of capital, — rendered 
 inveterate and incurable by the unwieldy and 
 ponderous inactivity of the Austrian monarchy, 
 fettered by a mass of obsolete usages and 
 precedents, and encumbered with a nobility, 
 whose haughty manners like the face of their 
 country, retain some of the barbarous features 
 and iron harshness of the feudal times. 
 
 In the exhausted state of Austria, at the 
 close of the successful but desperate and 
 bloody struggle, made by the powers of Eu- 
 rope for their independence, much might have 
 been done by a wise and provident govern- 
 ment, to alleviate the pressure of a state of 
 things, unavoidable at the termination of that 
 arduous conflict. That was a season, as Mr. 
 Burke says, " of beginning a new course and 
 " opening a new reckoning, and even in the 
 " depths of their calamity) and on the very 
 " ruins of their country, of laying the founda- 
 " tions of a towering and durable greatness." 
 
 If ever there was a time favourable to po- 
 litical reform 3 — eradicating the vices of the go-
 
 69 
 
 
 vernment, — establishing a system of enlarged 
 and liberal policy, and renovating and invigo- 
 rating the state throughout all its parts, it was 
 that, when Austria, rescued from the common 
 foe, by the valour and fidelity of her people, 
 found herself in possession of those mo- 
 ral energies, which had been called into acti- 
 vity by the contest for her independence. 
 No vigorous or efficacious measures, howe- 
 ver, have yet been undertaken for the relief of 
 the publick. The want of decision and ener- 
 gy in the councils of the empire, may in a 
 great measure be ascribed to the temper, and 
 disposition of its present sovereign, who with 
 the best intentions in the world, suffers him- 
 self to be the sceptical dupe of those imme- 
 diately around him. Every plan of reform 
 submitted to him, seems to command his as- 
 sent for the moment, but the slow progress 
 towards any of the great and desirable objects 
 of commercial or financial reform, leaves no 
 doubt that at the court of Vienna, local and 
 personal interests, are suffered to prevail in 
 opposition to the general welfare of the empire. 
 
 There is no doubt that it would greatly 
 contribute to the trade and prosperity of her 
 ports in the Adriatick, if that commerce
 
 70 
 
 which is held with the interiour, through the 
 ports of the Elbe, were discouraged, by rai- 
 sing the transit duties on merchandise, intro- 
 duced through that channel. This appears to 
 be a proposition almost self-evident, yet there 
 is a strong Bohemian interest at court, that does 
 not find it difficult to impress the Emperour, 
 with a belief, that such a measure, by disor- 
 ganising a long established system of trade, 
 would be productive of infinite mischief. — The 
 expiring commerce of Trieste and Fiume, — 
 the almost irretrievable ruin of Venice, — a 
 paper currency gradually reduced, by a suc- 
 cession of arbitrary decrees, below the tenth 
 of its original value, — arbitrary reductions of 
 the coin, embarrassing the calculations and 
 views of the trader, and striking at the foun- 
 dation of publick credit, may serve to shew 
 what progress the science of political oeco- 
 nomy has made in Germany. 
 
 The taxes and mode of collecting them, — 
 the conscription and police, were unquestiona- 
 bly great sources of individual oppression, un- 
 der Napoleon. But the police, which has been 
 described as constituting one of the most ter- 
 rifick features of the late despotism, still con-
 
 71 
 
 tinues to prevail in all its rigour at Trieste,* 
 and in the Venetian and Milanese territories; 
 — and concerning the petty vexations to which 
 the people were exposed, from tax-gatherers 
 and other officers of the revenue, I think no 
 one will deny that, as pick-pockets^ the Ger- 
 mans are far inferiour to the French in hu- 
 manity and politeness. 
 
 It will no doubt excite the surprise of some 
 to be told, that Francis occasionally resorts to 
 the same expedients for supporting the splen- 
 dour of the imperial household, and for pay- 
 ing the expenses of the civil list, that were 
 employed for the same purposes by Napoleon, 
 
 * Madame Bacciochi, eldest sister of Napoleon, ci- 
 devant Princess of Piombino and Grand Duchess of Tus- 
 cany, reside? at present at Trieste, which has been al- 
 lotted her as a place of domicil by the Austrian govern- 
 ment. Her situation here is not much more enviable, 
 than that of her brother at St. Helena ; all her domes- 
 tick occurrences are regularly communicated to the po- 
 lice, by spies in the shape of servants, stationed in her 
 house. She is cut off from all correspondence with the 
 different members of ber family. The duke of Padua, 
 (Arrighi) and his amiable and beautiful consort, were sub- 
 ject to the same rigorous supervision, and indeed, there 
 is not an Italian of any political distinction at Trieste, 
 concerning whose conduct the police does not daily 
 receive exact information.
 
 72 
 
 when emperour of France. The magnifi- 
 cent presents made to Maria Louisa and her 
 son, by the citizens of Paris, were officially 
 announced, as contributions voluntarily im- 
 posed upon themselves by the people. This 
 was a measure of deception resorted to du- 
 ring the revolution, and perhaps excusable in 
 the policy of Buonaparte, who fell heir to 
 that system of fraud and violence, established 
 by his republican predecessors ; but that a si- 
 milar artifice should be practised, under the 
 government of a legitimate monarch, may 
 justly excite our wonder. A short time sub- 
 sequent to his late marriage, a tax in the dis- 
 guise of a donation to the Empress, was im- 
 posed upon all the subjects cf the empire. 
 
 The share to be paid by each individual 
 was left indefinite, but as the name of the 
 contributor, and the sum subscribed appear- 
 ed publickly, every citizen paid a sum not 
 proportionate to his resources, but according 
 to the fund of his bounty. The generous and 
 high minded part of the community, in tins 
 instance, sustained the burthen of the con- 
 tribution, and equalized the deficiencies of 
 meanness and avarice. It is scarce necessary 
 to remark, that a demand of this nature would 
 not have been made, if the government Were
 
 73 
 
 not aware, that the people are operated upon 
 by a motive more irresistible, than an attach- 
 ment to the person of their sovereign. What 
 rendered this tax the more odious, was the 
 circumstance of its being imposed during a 
 season of universal distress, and in a time of 
 profound peace. The exigencies of the war 
 afforded some apology, for the fiscal oppres- 
 sions of the French, and in the successful ac- 
 complishment of Buonaparte's ambitious views, 
 they were taught to expect a happier and more 
 prosperous state of things. 
 
 Any one who attentively considers these 
 facts, will with difficulty believe, that even 
 Germany itself enjoys that prosperity and hap- 
 piness, for which it is so eminently fitted by 
 the moral habits of its people, and the ferti- 
 lity of its soil. These facts are indeed furnish- 
 ed, by a particular section of the i^ustrian do- 
 minions, but let it be remembered, that the 
 division to which they relate, includes a tract 
 of country, uncommonly favoured by na- 
 ture ; where if so much misery is to be 
 found, we may fairly conclude that govern- 
 ment is in fault, and that therefore the evil is 
 general. If the capital exhibits a scene more 
 animated and flourishing, the fact is easily ac- 
 11
 
 74 
 
 counted for. The expenditures of the court, 
 and the immense fortunes of the nobility, 
 which find employment in this extensive mart 
 of pleasure, give to Vienna a face of prospe- 
 rity which is apt to deceive those, whose range 
 of observation has never extended beyond 
 its environs. 
 
 But whether the German provinces of the 
 empire, are in a flourishing or impoverished 
 condition, is of little consequence to the pre- 
 sent argument, while the proofs of misery are so 
 numerous, and the symptoms of discontent so 
 strong in its Italian dominions. They, more 
 than any, contribute to support the ostentatious 
 splendour that immediately surrounds the 
 throne, and suffer a general impoverishment, 
 while their resources are drained to pam- 
 per the luxury of the capital. The concentra- 
 tion of the riches of the empire in one spot, 
 does not take place in order, that they may 
 afterwards be more equally and generally diffu- 
 sed. The tide of wealth which with so constant 
 a current, sets from the provinces to the metro- 
 polis, does not return by any secret channels of 
 circulation, to beautify and enrich the face of 
 the country, but stagnates in the treasury of a 
 government at once rapacious and parsimo-
 
 75 
 
 nious. The Italians tell you that the weight 
 of the French yoke, was very much alleviated 
 by the works of embellishment and utility that 
 were undertaken by order of that government. 
 The construction of roads, bridges, publick- 
 walks and gardens, besides, gave employment 
 to the labouring classes of society, and the 
 multitudes deprived of subsistence, in conse- 
 quence of the relinquishment of such under- 
 takings by the present government, have in- 
 creased the misery and discontents of this quar- 
 ter of Italy to an alarming degree. Nor is this 
 hostility to the reigning government confined to 
 the class of indigent labourers. Persons of 
 easy fortune, whose love of indolence might be 
 supposed to render them averse to any change, 
 either sympathising with the distresses of the 
 poor, or experiencing in some instances them- 
 selves, the effects of a weak and improvident 
 government, express similar sentiments. They 
 contrast the monuments which the French have 
 left either of usefulness or ornament, with the 
 total want of enterprise of the Austrian mo- 
 narchy, and on many occasions hesitate 
 not to deplore as a calamitous event for their 
 country, the fall of Napoleon ; * who if at one 
 
 ♦Nothing more contributed to the popularity of Bona- 
 parte in Italy, than thd respectful manner in which he
 
 76 
 
 time he seemed a destroying- angel desolating 
 Italy, afterwards appeared like her tutelary 
 genius, raising her from the depths of her ca- 
 lamities, reviving her almost extinguished hopes ? 
 and renovating her with new life and vigour. 
 
 Thus have I endeavoured on one hand, to 
 point out the acts of the late French govern- 
 ment, which have attached to it the Italian 
 population of Trieste ; and on the other, to 
 
 always spoke of that country. In this he gave a proof 
 of his penetration into the master springs of human 
 conduct. Whatever conclusions he might have formed 
 in his own mind, with respect to the character of the 
 Italians, he always spoke of them as a people, whose ge- 
 nius had hitherto been prevented from appearing in 
 its full lustre, by the want of an efficient government. 
 If the following anecdote be true, which I have heard 
 repeated by more than one person at Triest, the 
 En perour Francis is inclined, both to think and to speak 
 ill of the Italians. In his journey in eighteen hundred 
 and six pen, through the Milanese and Venetian territo- 
 ries, he is said to have travelled with a powerful es- 
 cort as far as the frontiers of Istria, where he dismissed 
 them all to a few attendants, saving that he now felt no ap- 
 prehensions for his personal safety, as he considered 
 himself within the limits of his own dominions ; thereby 
 wounding the amour propre of his Italian subjects, 
 and tacitly confessing his belief in their want of allegiance 
 to his crown.
 
 77 
 
 mark those defects of policy, which have laid 
 *he foundation in their minds of an insupera- 
 ble aversion to Austria. In stating the caus- 
 es which have contributed to this alienation 
 of mind, I am satisfied that the enumeration 
 I have offered is far from being complete. Ma- 
 ny facts have been purposely omitted, lest in 
 the opinion of persons not possessed of the 
 same means of information with the author* 
 they might happen to give an air of exagge- 
 ration to his account. The state of the pub- 
 lick mind in this quarter of Europe, as it fell 
 under his observation in the years eighteen 
 hundred and sixteen and eighteen hundred 
 and seventeen, indicated a temper by no means 
 favourable to a state of lasting repose ; and 
 causes were continually occurring still more 
 to exasperate and inflame it. The impetuous 
 and fiery disposition of the Italians, urging 
 them at every opportunity to express their con- 
 tempt for the Austrians, whom they consi- 
 der a dull and spiritless nation, without the 
 heart to conceive, or the hand to execute any 
 daring or generous enterprise of policy or 
 ambition. The Austrians, on the other hand, re- 
 garding the Italians as a degenerate race, long 
 habituated to the yoke of a foreign power, al- 
 ways cherishing the idea of emancipation, but 
 never ripe for action, and in whom the spi-
 
 78 
 
 rit of liberty evaporates in vain, boast and me- 
 naces, 
 
 . . • . . desio verace 
 Di prisca intera liberta non entra 
 
 In questo popol vile 
 
 Amillea millei servi 
 
 Tu troverai, nel lor parlar feroci, 
 
 Vili all' oprar, nullial periglio.* . 
 
 But those who look somewhat deeper into 
 the character of the Italians, see in this enslav- 
 ed people, a fund of talent and energy, which 
 under the direction and control of a vigorou s 
 and politick chief, might be capable of no des- 
 picable efforts in shaking off the yoke of a 
 power, so little calculated for extensive domi- 
 nion as Austria. 
 
 The foregoing observations relate to that 
 portion of Italy, which is situated around the 
 head of the Adriatick ; but taken in con- 
 nexion with some remarks, that will naturally 
 occur in the sequtl of this volume, they may 
 contribute to the elucidation of the general 
 political state of Italy. The author will here- 
 after occasionally resume the same subject, as 
 
 *Alfieri.
 
 79 
 
 it shall happen to be suggested by the train 
 of his reflections, guided in the discussion 
 of this, as of other topicks, more by the na- 
 tural laws of association in the human mind, 
 than by any artificial principle of arrangement, 
 which, however desirable it may be in a trea- 
 tise of pure science, will hardly be required 
 in a work like the present, where it is impos- 
 sible at almost every step, not to deviate from 
 the rules of didactick simplicity. 
 
 Besides the Opera Buffa, masquerades and 
 other amusements of the carnival, there is 
 established at Trieste a Casino, or fashionable 
 club. The casino is open at all seasons of 
 the year, and each subscriber enjoys the privi- 
 lege of introducing a stranger. It consists of 
 a reading room, a ball-room and apartments 
 for cards, musick, and conversazzione, all 
 fitted up with remarkable elegance. Here the 
 wealth, beauty, and rank of Trieste assem- 
 ble to contend for superiority, and if the dis- 
 play of opulence and nobility, be not as daz- 
 zling here as in other places, nhe spectacle of 
 beauty has more variety ; for here may be seen 
 the modish airs and fashionable dresses of Vi- 
 enna, the disinvoltura of the Italian belles.
 
 80 
 
 mixed with the graces of Athens and Spar- 
 ta.* — There are also, in every week through- 
 out the year, musical parties and conversaz- 
 zione at particular houses. 
 
 
 After the carnival, the Opera Seria was got 
 up with great splendour. The Emperour was 
 daily expected, and his approach was announ- 
 ced by the arrival of troops of Venetian dan- 
 cers and singers, and a swarm of parasites and 
 adventurers, mendici mimes balatrones, hoc genus 
 omne, who generally form a part of the train 
 of royalty. The arrival of such artists as Pi- 
 saroni, Pinotti, and Tachinardi, however, pro- 
 duced a much greater sensation at Trieste, than 
 the long expected visit of its sovereign. Two 
 factions arose about the merits of two eminent 
 ballerine, Torelli and Cortese, and the contro- 
 versy was agitated with all the heat of par- 
 ty animosity. The theatre resembled the scene 
 of a popular election, each party endeavouring 
 to drown the plaudits of the other by hisses 
 and exclamations, and hailing its favourite 
 
 * The portrait of Helen, as drawn by Homer, ap- 
 peared to me realized in Madame P — , a Greek lady, 
 who fled with her husband to Trieste from the tyran- 
 ny of the Turkish government.
 
 81 
 
 with shouts of triumphant applause, until the 
 governour had to interpose his authority, to 
 restore decorum. 
 
 The opera house is a large edifice, with a 
 handsome front, forming one side of a con- 
 siderable square. It is situated on the margin 
 of the sea, near the Molo di St. Carlo. The 
 sounds of the orchestra and the stage, often 
 pass through its windows, lulling the waves 
 into attention, and coming upon the senses of 
 the sea-worn mariner, like those scented gales, 
 that blow from the coast of " Araby the blest." 
 The Greek sailor seated on the deck of his 
 vessel, often hears a low concert of instru- 
 mental sounds, and voices borne through the 
 air, which might recall to his mind the mi- 
 racles of that ancient musick, which expired 
 when the soul of his country was conquered. 
 
 Should this description appear to some too 
 poetical, let me present the temple of the Mu- . 
 ses, in a light less pleasing to the imagination. 
 The filth and misery that surround it, — the 
 haggard forms of indigence and vice, that 
 are seen prowling in its portico and vesti- 
 bule, — the dim lights that burn in the cabin 
 
 12
 
 82 
 
 of some Greek galiot, the residence of loath- 
 someness, and impurity. The mind impati- 
 ently seeks oblivion of these disgusting re- 
 alities, amidst the illusions of the opera, 
 where the enchanting voice and voluptuous 
 dance soon drive far away all ideas of pain 
 and sorrow. 
 
 The interiour of the Italian opera houses 
 is much better calculated for stage effect, than 
 that of our theatres. They are generally light- 
 ed from the centre of the ceiling by a large 
 chandelier, which can be elevated or lowered 
 at pleasure. The deep shade into which the 
 theatre is instantly cast, by raising it, 
 gives a powerful effect to the scenick deco- 
 rations, and to the dress and expression of 
 the actor. On great occasions, the Italians 
 illuminate their theatres very brilliantly, and 
 then one can judge of the difference of the 
 effect produced by the stage. 
 
 The boxes (palchi) are divided from one ano- 
 ther by partitions, which give their theatre 
 a dark and heavy appearance in comparison 
 with ours. But they have the advantage of 
 being private. In the Pheriwe at Venice, and
 
 83 
 
 other great theatres in Italy, these boxes are 
 tastefully fitted up, with mirrours and other 
 ornaments, and are a sort of private coffee- 
 room, where the proprietor receives visits. 
 
 The pit appears to be the only part of the 
 audience, who really feel the beauty of the 
 opera. The apparent inattention of the boxes 
 is remarkable. They are oftener engaged in 
 conversation, than in listening to the actor on 
 the stage, yet so exquisite are the ears of this 
 people, that they will pause in the midst of 
 the most earnest discourse, to mark a false 
 note or an improper emphasis. 
 
 I shall say nothing here, of the privacy 
 of the Italian theatres, and their favourable- 
 ness to midnight assignations and secret 
 amours, yet I am persuaded these criminal 
 practices prevail in a much less extent, 
 than is generally believed in this country. 
 
 The rules of exteriour decorum are rigid- 
 ly observed. A. lady is not permitted to 
 suspend a shawl or a handkerchief from the 
 boxes, and even the accidental dropping of 
 a glove, would perhaps excite a murmur in 
 the pit, and be censured with a gentle repri-
 
 84 
 
 mand by the police. No spectator is allow- 
 ed to encroach upon the rights of another, 
 and all noises and exclamations, except 
 such as usage has established, as marks of ge- 
 neral approbation or applause, are unlicensed. 
 
 In introducing the reader to the grand ope- 
 ra of Italy, 1 must request him to bear in 
 mind, that the person who undertakes to 
 conduct him into this scene of enchantment, 
 is not a diletante, professing a knowledge of 
 the refined beauties of the art which here 
 appears in its highest perfection. Superfici- 
 ally acquainted with its elementary princi- 
 ples, he can estimate its beauties, only by 
 their effects, and in determining its merits, 
 is guided by no other standard than his 
 own feelings. In a mind not habituated to 
 judge by the rules and principles of art, the 
 pleasures of musick are influenced by the 
 state of the imagination, nor is it possible for 
 such a mind to form a very clear concep- 
 tion of those exquisite performances of art, 
 which please only chromatick ears, until it 
 has learned to separate from the real and 
 permanent beauties of melody, those ima- 
 ginary and perishable charms, that are bor- 
 rowed from casual associations. Yet I am
 
 85 
 
 persuaded, that the musician's art does not af- 
 ford to scientifick judges those rapturous plea- 
 sures it excites in minds which an unmanage- 
 able degree of sensibility subjugates by the 
 power of accidental and local impressions, and 
 renders them incapable of distinguishing the 
 refined musick of the opera, from the simple 
 but rude melodies cf nature. I was acquaint- 
 ed with a person who heard with perfect indif- 
 ference, the most celebrated vocal and instru- 
 mental performers of Italy, who yet listened as 
 if enchanted to the simple song of a Venetian 
 gondohere, heard under a moonlight sky along 
 a silent canal, bordered with ruined palaces, 
 once the gay mansions of splendour and beauty. 
 I do not know that in witnessing the most bril- 
 liant concert, or those almost supernatural feats 
 of voice which are exhibited on the Italian 
 stage, I was ever conscious of " such a sa- 
 cred and home-felt delight," as I have experi- 
 enced in listening to the sounds of a midnight 
 serenade, which, 
 
 Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, 
 And stole upon the air. 
 
 Even the warbling of a nightingale in a tree, 
 near Petrarch's villa, has more powerfully af-
 
 86 
 
 fected me than the most skilful human artist 
 would have done, by bringing to my recollec- 
 tion these beautiful lines of the poet, 
 
 Qui non palaxzi, non teatro o loggia 
 Ma'n lor vece un abete, un faggio un pino, 
 Tra l'erba verde, e'l bel monte vicino, 
 Onde se scende poetando e poggia, 
 Levan di terra al ciel nostro inteletto : 
 E'l rosignuol che dolcemente all'ombra 
 Tutte le notte si lamenta e piange.^ 
 
 The attractions which musick borrows from 
 poetry, and poetry from musick, mislead the 
 mind in its judgment, respecting the distinct 
 and separate merits of each. How many indif- 
 ferent airs become popular, from their being ori- 
 ginally combined with the beauties of poetry, 
 and how often do we see puerility of sentiment 
 and poverty of invention, set off by the merit of 
 musical composition. The former, I think, is 
 a general case in England and America, the lat- 
 ter is daily exemplified in Italy. The Italian 
 operas, with a few exceptions, as dramatick 
 compositions are not only tame and languid, but 
 contemptibly puerile. I speak not here of the 
 musical dramas of Metastasio, which have pre- 
 tentions far above these. But of that vast num- 
 ber of pieces so barren of sentiment and image- 
 
 * Son. X.
 
 87 
 
 ay, which are continually manufactured, for the 
 opera. How gross soever are the faults which 
 the poet may commit, they are varnished over 
 by the art of the musician. Nay, he is often 
 necessitated to vitiate his language and deform 
 his style, in order to humour* the taste of a 
 favourite cantatrice. For this reason, in propor- 
 tion as the musick of Italy prospers, her poetry 
 declines, and the greatness of the former may 
 be said to be built on the ruins of the latter. 
 
 Whether poetry and musick flourish best to- 
 gether, or whether they arrive at their highest 
 perfection, when cultivated exclusively of each 
 
 * This practice is finely ridiculed in Madame de 
 Stael's Corinne. " Vos musiciens fameux disposent en 
 " entier de vos poetes ; l'un lui declare qu'il ne peut pas 
 « chanter s'il n'a dans son ariette le mot felicit a ; le te- 
 " nor demande la tomba ; et le troisieme chanteur ne peut 
 " faire des roulades que sur le mot catene. II faut que le 
 " pauvre poete arrange ces gouts divers comme il le peut 
 u avec la situation dramatique." 
 
 " Est il e'tonnant que d'apres ces dispositions univer- 
 <{ selles, on n'ait en Italie qu'un mauvais opera avec de 
 " belle musique; cela doit arriver quand on est passionne 
 (t pourl'une, etqu'on se soucie peude 1 'autre, Voltaire a 
 " dit que la musique chez les Italiens avant tue la tragadie 
 " et il a dit vrai. Cours de Literature par J. F. La 
 « Harpe."
 
 88 
 
 other, is a question of some nicety. Modern 
 Greece affords some countenance to the former 
 opinion, while modern Italy furnishes many 
 plausible arguments in support of the latter. 
 
 Since the days of Tasso but a few of the 
 bards of Italy, have inherited any portion of 
 the fire of their great predecessors, and at 
 the present day her breed of original poets, 
 appears to be completely extinct. But Italy 
 is to day the land of enchanting musick. 
 This may be ascribed in some measure, to 
 the harmonious structure of the Italian lan- 
 guage, of which Metastasio said, " e musica 
 stessa." It is unquestionably the most mu* 
 sical, of all the dialects of modern Europe, 
 and even where the mind is unable to annex 
 any determinate and precise signification to 
 its terms, still it delights the ear with its 
 melodious accents, and like the sighs of the 
 breeze or the warbling of birds, awakens 
 feelings analagous to those inspired by the 
 charms of nature. Its full and sonorous ter- 
 minations give it a great advantage over the 
 French language, when adapted to the musi- 
 cal accompaniments. The voice in length- 
 ening out the mute vowels of the latter, pro- 
 duce a barbarous dissonance compared with
 
 those round and harmonious closes in which 
 the Italian language is so rich. 
 
 The Lyrical drama of France, in ele- 
 gance and regularity of structure, and refine- 
 ment of diction, surpasses that of Italy. A 
 profound knowledge of the principles of the 
 dramatick art, and the unrivalled beauty of 
 their ballet, have enabled the French artists 
 to embellish their opera, with all that Apollo 
 and the Graces could bestow. Yet with all 
 these dazzling allurements, it wearies and ex- 
 hausts the attention of the spectator,* while 
 the Opera Seria of Italy recreates and de- 
 lights him. 
 
 * The Grand Opera of Paris, although somewhat 
 •aricatured in the following description of Rousseau, 
 is even at the present day not wholly free from some 
 of those faults, which exposed it to the ridicule of 
 that unsparing satirist. " On voit les actrices, presque 
 '* en convulsion, arracher avec violence ces Glapissi- 
 ct mens de leurs poumons les poings fermes, contre la poi- 
 " trine, la tete pn arriere le visage enflammc, les vais- 
 '* seaux gonfleS, 1'estomac pantelant ; on ne *ait lequel 
 " est le plus di«a»reahlement affecte, de I 'ceil ou de 
 t( l'oreille, leurs efforts font autant souffrir ceux que les 
 " regardent, que leurs chants, ceux qui les ecoutent ; 
 « c — concevez que cette maniere de chanter est emplo- 
 u yee pour exprimer ce que Quinault a jamais -it de plus 
 
 13
 
 90 
 
 My ears also greatly deceive me, if the 
 musical artists of the former would endure 
 a comparison with those of the latter. An 
 Italian in witnessing the deafening applauses 
 of a French audience, which were, however, 
 not sufficiently loud to drown the voice of 
 the actress upon the stage, exclaimed "gR 
 Francesi hanno le orecchie di corno." Those 
 who have had their ears wounded by the 
 screaming of Madame Branchu, in the cha- 
 racter of Armide, and have seen Rinaldo rou- 
 sed from his voluptuous dream, by the sten- 
 torian voice of- Dermis, accompanied with 
 all the cymbals, trumpets and kettle-drums 
 of the orchestra, must have regretted, that 
 any thing so offensive, should mar the beauty 
 of a performance, which in some measure 
 vindicates, with regard to * the French Opera, 
 the justness of these beautiful lines of Vol- 
 taire, 
 
 " galant et de plus tendre. Imagines les Muses, les 
 ( * Graces, les Amours, Venus meme s'exprimant a- 
 "vec cette delicatesse et jugez de l'effet ! — A ces 
 " beaux sons aussi justes qu'ils son' doux se marient tres 
 "dignement ceux de I'orchestre. Figurez vous un cha- 
 * riv'ari sans fin d'instruments sans melodie ; un ron- 
 " ron trainant et perpetuel de basse ; chose la plus lu- 
 "gubre, la plus assommante que J'aie entendue de ma 
 " vie, et qui Je n'ai jamais pu supporter une demi- 
 " heure sans gagner un violent mai de tete."
 
 91 
 
 II faut se rendre a ce palais magique, 
 Oii les beaux vers, la tlanse et la musique, 
 L'art de charmer les yeux par les couleurs, 
 L'art plus heureux di seduire les cceurs, 
 De cent plaisirs font un plaisir unique. 
 
 The Italians delight in a musick that speaks 
 more to the heart than to the ear. It is for this 
 reason, that a person of any musical sensibili- 
 ty, on entering one of their theatres, finds him- 
 self transported into an ideal world, where, 
 
 Fancy dreams 
 Of sacred fountains and Elysian groveSj 
 And vales of bliss. 
 
 Such commonly was the effect produced in my 
 own mind by the Italian Opera, and such I be- 
 lieve to be its influence generally on every 
 mind, not wholly insensible to the charms of 
 musick, or which is not excluded from its 
 pleasures by some defect in the organ of ex- 
 ternal sensation. 
 
 This enervating musick, however, when not 
 counteracted by the influence of other arts, is cal- 
 culated to produce a character indolent and pas- 
 sive, and is as unfavorable to the higher powers 
 of genius, as to the great moral and political vir- 
 tues. I confess when I saw the Venetians thrown
 
 into ccstacies by Veluti's voice, I could scarce- 
 ly suppress the doubt, that this population 
 of Sybarites was once the formidable repub- 
 lick, which resisted the league of Cambray. 
 The talents, however, of this Soprano, are won- 
 derful, and they appeared the more so to me, 
 as I saw him in competition with Tramezani, 
 the hero of the London opera, and who is 
 so justly celebrated for the beauty of his re- 
 citation, the force and expression of his in- 
 tonations, and the grace and majesty of his 
 gestures. I saw them together in Mayer's 
 beautiful opera of Lodoiska, and although 
 I admired the grace and energy of Trame- 
 zani's acting , his voice appeared to me, if 
 I may be allowed the expression, to be cast 
 into the shade by the overpowering brilliancy 
 of Veluti's. As to Bassi, the rival of Cata- 
 lan^ I never witnessed an exhibition of her 
 powers, or heard her inimitable tones, that 
 I was not ready to exlaim with Milton's Co* 
 mus, 
 
 Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
 And with these raptures moves the vocal air* 
 To testify his hidden residence.
 
 98 
 
 How potent then must be the allurements 
 of the Opera, when to the powers of these 
 matchless artists, are added the charm of 
 poetical numbers, and the magical em- 
 bellishments of dress and scenick decoration. 
 
 " In the Italian opera," says Sir William 
 Jones, " thive beautiful arts, like the Graces 
 " united in dance, are together exhibited in 
 " a state of excellence, which the ancient 
 " world have not surpassed, and probably 
 " could not have equalled. An heroick Ope- 
 " ra of Metastasio set by Pergolesi, or by 
 " some artist of his incomparable school, and 
 " represented at Naples, displays at once the 
 " perfection of human genius, awakens all 
 "the affections, and captivates the imagina- 
 tion, at the same instant, through all the 
 " senses." 
 
 In spite, however, of the numberless beauties 
 of the Opera Seria, I must own that to me it ap- 
 pears less suited to the taste of a mixed audi- 
 ence, than the Opera Buffa or comick opera. 
 The latter is seasoned with a species of pleasan- 
 try in which the genius of the Italian people ap- 
 pears to delight, and there is a naive and humour- 
 ous turn of expression in their language, the
 
 94 
 
 pungency of which is heightened and improved 
 by a corresponding style of musical composi- 
 tion. The Opera Seria never stoops below a 
 certain dignity and elevation, and admits of no 
 comick incidents, no flashes of merriment to en- 
 liven the spectator. The former unbends the 
 mind, the latter often overstrains its powers. 
 The genius of the comick opera, like Milton's 
 Euphrosyne, is attended with, 
 
 Jest and youthful jollity, 
 
 With quips and cranks and wanton wiles, 
 
 Nods and becks and wreathed smiles. 
 
 The muse of the Opera Seria, is the pensive 
 goddess, described by the same poet, 
 
 With even pace and musing gait, 
 With looks commercing with th .> skies, 
 Her rapt soul sitting in her eyes. 
 
 As the ballet may be considered a constitu- 
 ent part of the opera, it cannot with propriety be 
 overlooked in a general description of the lat- 
 ter. The Italians manifest a fondness for gro- 
 tesque dancing ; and feats of agility, utterly de- 
 void of elegance and grace, are even in their 
 great theatres, tolerated and admired. But this 
 indecent style of dancing is entirely excluded
 
 95 
 
 from their serious ballets, throughout which 
 there reigns the utmost elegance and decorum. 
 When in France, I was struck with the display 
 of taste in their ballets, nor could I conceive un- 
 til then, how an amusement of this kind could 
 be rendered a vehicle of so much pleasure to a 
 cultivated and classical mind. The great pain- 
 ters of that country do not more diligently at- 
 tend to the effect of national costumes, and lo- 
 cal scenery, than the artists who arrange and 
 compose their ballets. Such as have experienced 
 the effect of the dances and scenery in the ope- 
 ra of Annide, ?.nd in the beautiful ballet of 
 Psyche, will concur with me in opinion, that the 
 French have left but little room for any further 
 improvement in this department of the opera. 
 
 In Italy, the land of classick beauty, where 
 the fine arts still flourish in their highest perfec- 
 tion, we may expect to see the ballet deco- 
 rated in a style equally chaste and elegant ; 
 and accordingly we find the Italians, rival- 
 ing the French in the artifice of embellish- 
 ment, and certainly surpassing them in the 
 management of the scenes, and the construc- 
 tion of theatrical machinery. The change 
 of scene is accomplished with more celerity 
 in the Italian, than in the French theatres.
 
 96 
 
 The wand of enchantment, could not more 
 instantaneously convert the stage, from a 
 sandy desert into a blooming garden, nor 
 transform the scenery of winter, into sun- 
 ny hills and verdant groves. A stately 
 palace rises in less time, than the magick 
 structures of Aladdin, nor can the poet's fan- 
 cy, " glancing from earth to heaven," more 
 rapidly transport the mind, from the realms 
 of Tartarus to the regions of Olympus 
 and the courts of Jupiter. 
 
 Give an artist of this country a subject 
 from history or fable, and he clothes it with 
 appropriate scenery and embellishments. 
 
 I have seen the invasion of Spain by 
 the Moors, and the fall of Roderigo, the 
 last of its Gothiek kings, represented in an 
 Italian ballet. Every thing was pictu- 
 resque, because every thing was characteris- 
 tick of national manners ~nd local scenery. 
 That scene in particular, where Roderigo be- 
 holds in a prophetick vision his own defeat 
 and the destinies of Spain, had a striking 
 and beautiful effect. The objects of the vi- 
 sion appeared clothed with those pale and 
 attenuated colours, in which the events of 
 futurity, may be supposed to present them-
 
 97 
 
 selves to the eyes of the audacious mortal^ 
 who unveils its/ secrets. The beautiful form 
 of the violated daughter of Count Julian, — 
 the enraged father, and bands of Moorish chiefs 
 glided like phantoms across the stage, or 
 passed like the shadowy kings in Banquo's pos- 
 terity before the eyes of Macbeth in the 
 cave of the weird sisters. 
 
 But when he surveys the tinsel decoration, 
 the paltry artifice and sorry mechanism, by 
 which this magnificent effect is produced, 
 the spectator is almost ashamed to own, that 
 he has felt its influence. It recalls to his mind 
 the superb tapestries of the Gobelins, where 
 his pleasure is certainly diminished, when 
 he is placed behind the canvass, *and exa- 
 mines the paltry silk threads, and discovers the 
 secret artifice, by which all that magick 
 of light and colours is produced, which fas- 
 cinated his eye. 
 
 With respect to the merits of the dan- 
 cers on the Italian stage, it would be dif- 
 ficult, nay almost impossible, for any feats 
 of grace to astonish one, who had seen Gar~ 
 del) Bigottini and Vestris of the French ope- 
 ra. Yet an unprejudiced Parisian would find 
 14
 
 . 98 
 
 something to admire in the ballerine of Italy. 
 Their look and movements are airy and ani- 
 mated, and their attitudes appear to have 
 been studied in musees, and academies, — to 
 be copied from the Hebes, and Psyches of Ca- 
 nova, or the voluptuous forms of Albaua, 
 and Corregio. 
 
 The opera, such as I have described it, 
 if it occupied a rank more subordinate in 
 the scale of intellectual pleasures, than it 
 does in Italy, might be regarded as an im- 
 portant auxiliary to other arts, which beau- 
 tify and polish society, without enfeebling 
 those masculine virtues, which form the so- 
 lid basis of social comfort and national ho- 
 nour. But the traveller, if he has frequent 
 occasion to admire the unequalled magni- 
 ficence of the Italian opera, is as often com- 
 pelled to lament, that among this people, 
 the drama, a much nobler species of enter- 
 tainment, sinks in importance, below such 
 theatrical exhibitions as delight the senses 
 and the fancy, more than they improve the 
 heart, or invigorate the genius. This re- 
 mark, however, is to be understood with 
 some limitations, for although the Italians 
 have figured less than the French and En-
 
 99 
 
 glish, in the higher walks of dramatick com- 
 position, their genius evinces no want of vi- 
 gour or of resources, whenever it has been fair- 
 ly directed to the higher kinds of tragedy and 
 comedy. Some general observations con- 
 cerning: the characteristick merits of Metas- 
 tasio, Goldoni and Alfieri^ the leading drama- 
 tick poets of Italy, will serve to explain 
 more fully, the idea I have conceived of its 
 drama. 
 
 Metastasio is justly popular among his own 
 countrymen, on account of the harmony of 
 his versification, the purity of his language, 
 and the brilliancy and fertility of his imagina- 
 tion. But the first excellence of a dramatick 
 poet is, the talent of delineating characters 
 with fidelity and spirit. For this purpose a gene- 
 ral knowledge of the motives of human con- 
 duct is not sufficient. The outline of hu- 
 man nature, is generallv well enough pre- 
 served in Metastasio's characters; but his 
 heroes are all after the same pattern, without 
 any mixture of the frailty of man ; and his 
 tyrants are all examples of pure unadultera- 
 ted guilt, unstained even with the slightest 
 colour of a single virtue. They rarely or 
 never excite interest, or move the affections
 
 100 
 
 strongly. — Love is the agent, which puts all 
 in motion in the dramas of this writer. But 
 it is not that passion, as it is painted in the 
 Othello, and in the Romeo and Juliet of Shaks- 
 peare. Metastasio's images and sentiments, 
 play and smile around the heart, and excite 
 a gentle tenderness, but they never penetrate 
 its inmost recesses, or open those profound 
 abysses of sorrow, which affright the soul. 
 There is a monotonous languor and effeminacy, 
 thrown over all his personages, which shows 
 how far the opera had already proceeded, 
 in establishing that sickliness of taste, which 
 sacrifices to the pleasures of harmony and 
 musical rhythm, depth of feeling and strength 
 and vigour of conception, " Ces characteres 
 tout de miel et de lait,"* are not calcula- 
 ted td alarm men into reflection, or to leave 
 the mind under those solemn and affecting 
 impressions, so salutary to the heart, and 
 which it is the object of tragedy to produce. 
 
 But as the poet of the opera, Metastasio is 
 without a rival. The splendour of his diction, 
 the unlaboured melody of his numbers, the 
 richness of his imagination, and the volup- 
 tuous strain of his sentiments, elevate him 
 to an enviable and solitary eminence, among 
 
 * Sismondj.
 
 101 
 
 the lyrical poets of his own country. The 
 beauty of his sentiments, and the charm of 
 his expression, heightened by the sublime 
 accords of Cimarosa or Pergolesi, cannot 
 have been unfelt by those who have much 
 frequented the operas of Italy, where some- 
 times the combined power of musick and of 
 poetry, like the fabulous songs of Circe and 
 the Syrens, will 
 
 Take the prison'd soul, 
 
 And lap it in Elysium. 
 
 Goldoni is the prince of comick poets a- 
 mong the Italians, who evince for his name 
 the same degree of homage, that the French 
 pay to the genius of Molicre, " Gran Gol- 
 doni" is the style in which they mention him. 
 He was, perhaps, the first who attempted to 
 reform the rude manners and improbable in- 
 cid nts of the Italian stage. The Italians 
 cl;«im the honour of possessing a national 
 Dramatis Persona'. Having created the cha- 
 racters of Harlequin, Pantalone and Brighella, 
 the inventors of these masks bequeathed 
 them to their successors, as beings possessed of 
 a traditional nature, in the properties of which 
 no subseqnent dramatist has ventured to make
 
 102 
 
 any innovation. He may vary their situation, 
 and present them under different points of 
 view, but at the same time, he can make no 
 change . in their moral and intellectual fea- 
 tures, nor divest them of those costumes, 
 manners and habitudes, by which they have 
 been for a long time familiarised to the Ita- 
 lian people. On this account the Italian come- 
 dy has been compared repeatedly to the game 
 of chess, the combinations of which are in- 
 finitely diversified, while the name, power 
 and movements of the several pieces that com* 
 pose it, always remain invariable. Let us 
 suppose that the ascendant mind of Shaks- 
 peare, hid rendered the introduction of 
 such characters as Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, 
 and FalstafF essential to English comedy, it 
 would then afford some idea of the popular 
 taste, and the inconveniencies resulting from 
 it, with which the genius of Goldoni was 
 forced to contend. 
 
 He did not, indeed, exclude from his com- 
 positions, these traditional characters which 
 had then got possession of the stage, but 
 he attempted to set bounds to that liberty 
 which the actors before exercised, of extem- 
 porising their parts. He could not, however,
 
 103 
 
 wholly suppress this abuse, while he sanc- 
 tioned, by his example, the buffooneries of 
 Harlequin and Pantalone, who still claim 
 and exercise the privilege of interlarding the 
 prescribed form of dialogue, with the un- 
 premeditated effusions of their own rude wit. 
 
 An inexhaustible vein of humour and 
 wit, appears in all Goldom's pieces, although 
 he does not manage it with the art and ele- 
 gance of Moliere. He sometimes paints hu- 
 man nature with a charming naivete, but he 
 never copies real life with the boldness and, 
 felicity of Shakspeare, or exhibits that re- 
 fined and elegant picture of living manners, 
 which constitutes the charm of French co- 
 medy. He portrays the characters of wo- 
 men in the opposite lights, of melancholy 
 and gjiety. The former are cold sentimental- 
 ists, obedient to the commands of their pa- 
 rents, desirous of the marriage state, that 
 they may throw off the yoke of an authority, 
 that excludes them from the pleasures of the 
 world. The latter, on the contrary, are head- 
 strong girls of lively and impetuous feelings, 
 prone to break loose from the restraints of 
 parental government, and to elope with a lover.
 
 104 
 
 But neither his Rosaures nor his Beatrices f 
 are much distinguished by refinement and 
 delicacy of soul, and are vulgar and spi- 
 ritless, when compared with the Celia and 
 Rosalind of Shakspeare. 
 
 He, however, who proposes to study the 
 manners of Italy, in the comedies of Gol- 
 doni, takes for his guide the most fallacious 
 of all standards. The Italians, properly speak- 
 ing, have no national comedy ; nor does it 
 appear to be agreeable to their ideas and pre- 
 judices, to penetrate the secret springs of ac- 
 tion, or to develope the human character up- 
 on the stage. This people, who are such 
 profound masters of the heart, and who pos- 
 sess, in so eminent a degree, the talent of pur- 
 suing it through all the windings of policy, 
 seem to consider it as something profane, to 
 unveii their knowledge of its mysteries in 
 the theatre. 
 
 But the dramatick poet, whom the Italians 
 regard with a veneration, bordering upon ido- 
 latry, is Aljieri. The powerful allurements 
 of Metastasio's poetry, appears to have won 
 for him the privilege of fixing the laws of 
 dramatick composition. He assimilated the
 
 105 
 
 genius of tragedy to the softness aud lan- 
 guor of pastoral poetry, nor is it difficult 
 to conceive, how a people softened by in- 
 dolence and pleasure, should be inclined to 
 prefer brilliancy of imagination and volup- 
 tuousness of sentiment, to depth of teel- 
 ing and energy of thought. How great, then, 
 is the merit of Alfieri, who combatted suc- 
 cessfully these enchantments, and infused in- 
 to tragedy her ancient spirit. Since his time 
 the theatre in Italy has been a great school 
 of virtue and moral wisdom. Melpomene 
 no longer appears with her majestick fore- 
 head, bound with chaplets of flowers and 
 with the voice and smiles of a Siren. 
 Alfieri divested her of these meretricious 
 charms, restored to her the solemn step, the 
 elevated look, the lotty accent, and clothed 
 her with the flowing majesty of her antique 
 costume. 
 
 But with all his merits, Alfieri does not 
 appear to have seized the justest concep- 
 tion of tragedy. Solicitous chiefly to avoid 
 the effeminacy of Metastasio, he has gone 
 to the opposite extreme. His illustrations 
 and metaphors are employed for sake of 
 strength, more than for ornament, and his 
 
 15
 
 106 
 
 aversion to embellishment, led him to the adop- 
 tion of a style harsh and unpoetical. To 
 borrow an illustration from painting, all his 
 pieces are deficient in repose. The mind is 
 kept too continually on the stretch- This tra- 
 gical uniformity renders his dramas, in spite 
 of their great beauties, heavy and tedious. I 
 cannot conceive why the tragick poet, should 
 not be permitted occasionally, to step aside 
 to regale his reader with a description or an 
 episode, and why a liberty allowed in epick 
 composition, should be considered inconsis- 
 tent with the laws of the drama. In the se- 
 venth book of Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, 
 after a series of sanguinary battles and mar- 
 tial exploits, how refreshing to the imagina- 
 tion, is the solitary retreat on the banks of the 
 Jordan, and the adventures of Erminia and 
 the Shepherd,"among scenes of pastoral inno- 
 cence and simplicity. " A beauty of this kind 
 in Shakspeare," says Dugald Stewart, " has 
 " been finely remarked by Sir Joshua Rey- 
 " nolds. After the awful scene, in which Mac- 
 " beth relates to his wife, the particulars in his 
 . " interview with the weird sisters, and where 
 "the design is conceived of accomplishing 
 " their predictions, that very night, by the m-ur-
 
 107 
 
 " der of the king, how grateful is the sweet 
 "and tranquil picture, presented to the fancy in 
 " the dialogue between the king and Banquo, 
 " before the casde gate :" 
 
 This castle hath a pleasant seat : the air 
 Nimbly and swiftly recommends itself 
 Unto our general sense. 
 
 This guest of summer, 
 The temple haunting martlet, does approve, 
 By his lov'd mansionary, that the heaven's breath 
 Smells wooingly here. No jutty friese, 
 Buttress nor coigne of 'vantage, but this bird 
 Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle * 
 "Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, 
 The air is delicate. 
 
 Although terrour and sublimity are the emo- 
 tions, which Shakspeare is most successful in 
 raising, yet as images of horrour, when the 
 mind dwells on them too long become painful, 
 the scene from time is shifted, and the gloom 
 of the imagination occasionally relieved, by 
 a succession of gay and exhilirating impres- 
 sions. He knew every secret avenue to the 
 heart, which he alternately pierces with the 
 most poignant anguish, melts with compassion 
 or convulses with laughter. But the strain of 
 Alfieri is unvaried. All his dramas are modelled 
 after rhe same pattern. When you have read 
 his conspiracy of the Pazzi, and his Phillip
 
 108 
 
 the second, you appear to have exhausted all 
 the treasures of his fancy. The love of liberty 
 with which some of his pieces are so strongly 
 marked, and which is the predominant sentiment 
 throughout most of them, have acquired for 
 him a great reputation among a people, who 
 know nothing of liberty but its false and splen- 
 did visions, which are often not more happily 
 suited to the purposes of the dramatick poet, 
 than they are repugnant to the sober realities 
 of life. Nevertheless, with all his defects, he 
 has erected on a durable basis, a monument 
 over which unceasing honours are destined to 
 accumulate, and the name of Alfieri, when his 
 works shall be better understood abroad, will 
 share with Shakspeare, Racine and Schiller, 
 that universal admiration, which the consent 
 of ages and the voice of experience confirms. 
 
 The change which the moral and political 
 principles of his tragedies, have effected in the 
 modes of feeling and thinking throughout Ita- 
 ly, has evidently created a spirit, which its pre- 
 sent governments must be fearful of provoking. 
 They discountenance, as far as they can with 
 policy, the representation of those pieces, in 
 which the principles of liberty are forcibly in- 
 culcated. His dramas, however, produce their
 
 109 
 
 most powerful impression in the closet, as there 
 are few declaimers in Italy, capable of conceiv- 
 ing the depth of his sentiments, or of reci- 
 ting his verses, so as to mark the beauties of 
 his forcible and sententious style. Yet he has 
 invigorated the sentiments of the Italian people, 
 and infused into them a portion of their anci- 
 ent spirit. The bold and fearless manner, in 
 which they quote his verses, as applicable to 
 themselves, and their present situation, autho- 
 rises me to believe, that Alfieri has helped to 
 sow the seeds of that restlessness, which they 
 discover under the yoke of their present go- 
 vernments, and the sources of which must be 
 extinguished, before Italy can enjoy a lasting 
 repose. They feel and act as if nothing was 
 wanting, but a resolute chief, to lead them to 
 the possession of that liberty, which is the ob- 
 ject of their sighs. 
 
 Gia in alto stan gli ignudi ferri ; accenna, 
 Accenna sol : gia nei devoti petti, 
 Piombar gli vedi ; e a liberta dar via.* 
 
 No poet since the time of Lucan, has wor- 
 shipped with truer devotion at the shrine of 
 liberty, or painted its effects on the heart, with 
 more genuine enthusiasm than Alfieri. If his 
 
 * Congiura de' Pazzi.
 
 110 
 
 strains shall not kindle a flame to consume the 
 structures of despotism, they will, however, 
 keep alive the sacred flame on the altar of his 
 country. 
 
 The genius of this poet is truly original. In 
 nothing does he resemble the French drama- 
 tists, except their scrupulous adherence to the 
 unities. He does not Italianize his characters 
 after the example of the French stage, where 
 the heroes of ancient Greece and Rome, are 
 taught to mimick the airs of fashionable ele- 
 gance, and to speak the language of courtiers 
 and gallants. 
 
 The reduction of all national tastes to one 
 standard, would give rise to an intellectual 
 despotism, under which the nobler powers 
 of genius and invention would languish and 
 decay. In point of correct elegance, the 
 French drama excells every other. The 
 French poet observes, with a scrupulous ex- 
 actness, all those dramatick rules, to which 
 a long acquiescence on the part of the learn- 
 ed have given a prescriptive authority ; and 
 all those conventional laws of taste, to which 
 the artificial refinements of society have gi- 
 ven birth. The genius of the German poet.
 
 Ill 
 
 on the contrary, is "a chartered libertine," 
 which spurns the restraints of mediocrity, and 
 in search of excellence ventures into un- 
 known regions of thought. Goethe and Schil- 
 ler, owe the magick charm of their dramatick 
 compositions, to the boldness with which they 
 have ventured beyond the prescribed limits 
 of invention, while the jejuneness of the 
 French theatre proceeds from the slavery 
 of established rules, which narrows the range 
 of imagination, and impoverishes the sources 
 of invention. The feeble impression made 
 by the dramas of Shakspeare, when adapted 
 to the French theatre, convinces me that it 
 is incapable of lending ours any improve- 
 ments. The wild graces and unborrowed 
 charms of Shakspeare 's muse, are no longeu 
 recognised, when decorated with the artifi- 
 cial embellishments of Parisian taste. How 
 does it freeze an English or an American 
 auditor, to find in these imitations the aw- 
 ful apparitions in Hamlet and Macbeth, and 
 all those circumstances of matchless grandeur, 
 by which Shakspeare gradually prepares the 
 mind for their appearance systematically sup- 
 pressed, or narrated in a strain of pompous 
 and frigid declamation ; and to see the strength 
 and harmony of Otway's verse sacrificed to
 
 112 
 
 poetical exactness, and his impetuous tor- 
 rent of overbearing eloquence, taught to flow 
 in Alexandrine lines, and subjected to the 
 inexorable laws of French prosody. As un- 
 willing am I that our dramatick system should 
 be forced into conformity with that of Ita- 
 ly. The " wood notes wild" of Shakspeare 
 are far more grateful to my taste, than all 
 the dazzling imagery of Metastasio, or the 
 studied sententiousness and sentimental pomp 
 of Alfieri. 
 
 I have dwelt the longer on the subject of 
 the Italian drama, as it in some measure af- 
 fords a standard for estimating the literary 
 taste, and moral genius of the nation, and 
 the same reason may be assigned for the pre- 
 ceding remarks, on the disproportionate 
 magnificence of the opera, which has a suf- 
 ficient foundation in general opinions and 
 manners, to throw some light on the moral 
 and intellectual character of the Italians. 
 
 From what I have already said it may be 
 inferred, that the manners of Trieste and 
 those of the Italian cities, do not essentially 
 differ. Its annexation, indeed, to Austria, should 
 its present political relations prove permanent,
 
 113 
 
 may in the course of time, lead to the in- 
 troduction generally of German manners and 
 German opinions ; but in all other respects 
 at present, Trieste is an Italian city. Like 
 all the other ports of the Adriatick, it con- 
 tains a very mixed population, and displays a 
 great variety of costumes. This intermixture 
 of Asiaticks, Africans and Europeans, is 
 not unpleasing to a mind, conversant with 
 the Romances of the East, to which this infu- 
 sion of foreign dresses and manners suggests 
 pictures that have amused the fancy of child- 
 hood. Commerce has here brought together 
 the sun-burnt Saracen, and the fair complex- 
 ioned sons of the north. It is not unusual 
 to see a rich Constantinopolitan merchant at- 
 tended by a black page, attired in cash- 
 mere and muslin, mixing with the cheerful 
 concourse, which in the evening crowd the 
 haunts of fashion, and many "a malignant 
 and turbaned Turk," is compelled to acknow- 
 ledge the superiour charms of European socie- 
 ty, and to prefer to the insipidity of the ensla- 
 ved beauties of the East, the social vir- 
 tues and intellectual graces, which ennoble the 
 sex in those countries, over which Christi- 
 anity sheds its moral influence. 
 
 16
 
 114 
 
 Some of the villages in the neighbour- 
 hood of Trieste, are inhabited by a race of 
 peasants, whose language differs radically 
 from that of Italy, and has no affinity with 
 the kindred dialects of the adjacent provin- 
 ces. Their fair complexions and robust 
 forms, too, are proofs of a descent from a 
 more northern nation. In Trieste they are 
 called Craniolins. The dress of the wo- 
 men is peculiar. Their heads are tied round 
 with a white cambrick or linen handker- 
 chief, with the corners thrown back on the 
 shoulders. They wear a short tight jacket, 
 that displays to advantage an elegant waist 
 and pliant form, but the effect of which is 
 spoiled by the heavy massive drapery, that 
 falls from it as far as the middle of the leg. 
 Scarlet stockings, which they take care to 
 wrinkle about the ankle, terminated by broad 
 round shoes with large buckles in them, 
 conceal the beautifully turned ankle and slen- 
 der foot, indicated by the elastick step and 
 buxom air of many of these mountain nymphs. 
 
 The constant companion of these poor 
 people, is a small shaggy species of ass, 
 which is often seen before them, mounting 
 Tvith patient steps the steep and rugged
 
 115 
 
 paths of the mountains, and carrying in its 
 panniers, the whole stock of wealth employ- 
 ed in their humble traffick. On Sundays 
 they flock in their best attire to the church- 
 es of Trieste, and spend their evening at 
 the villages of Zauli, and St. Servelo. Their fa- 
 vourite exercise is a dance, which resembles 
 more the brisk and vigorous measures of 
 the ancient Pyrrhick, than the mazy and ine- 
 briating movements of the German waltzes. 
 
 I have mentioned, incidently, a general 
 expectation at Trieste, of a visit from the 
 Emperour Francis. The governor of the 
 city was solicitous that this event should 
 be marked on the part of the inhabitants, 
 with the strongest expressions of good faith 
 and devotion to their sovereign. T'ie Ita- 
 lians, though insincere in their loyalty, were 
 induced from motives of policy to concur 
 in a measure which was likely to have im- 
 portant consequences of a publick nature.* 
 He was met at a distance from the city 
 
 * At this time there was a hope prevalent among 
 the Trestians, that the cabinet of Vienna would 
 carry into effect the long agitated plan of concen- 
 trating the commerce of the Empire at Trieste.
 
 116 
 
 by the publick functionaries, and escorted 
 through the corso or principal street, along 
 the sides of which the military were drawn 
 up. The martial musick of the German 
 regiments, which is so noble, and the inces- 
 sant firing from the fort and harbour, gave 
 no small degree of solemnity to this event. 
 A thousand white handkerchiefs waved by 
 the fair hands of ladies, streamed from the 
 windows under which he passed, and the 
 multitude shouted viva nostro sovrano. The 
 front of the exchange which terminate^ 
 the corso, was decorated' with a large trans- 
 parent painting representing the mixed 
 population of Trieste, with wreaths, and 
 presents in their hands, which they offered 
 as a testimony of their gratitude and loyal- 
 ty to the Emperour. Between the imperial 
 residence and the theatre, a beautiful tri- 
 umphal arch was constructed, bearing this 
 inscription. 
 
 Cari patriae patri adventum 
 Lceti celebrant Tergestini. * 
 
 Francis witnessed all these expressions of 
 ^eal to his house, with the air of a man 
 
 * Tergeslum was the ancient name of Trieste.
 
 117 
 
 whose ruling passion was not that of em- 
 pire and command. He returned the vivas 
 of the populace by a quick and awkward 
 inclination of his head, and a mechanical 
 movement of his hand to his hat. As I 
 saw him descend from his carriage, his 
 countenance and person impressed me with 
 the idea of a plain artless man, marked 
 with none of the terrifick or captivating 
 traits of superiour genius. None of those 
 royal and martial graces which played around 
 the person of Buonaparte, or of Louis the 
 fourteenth. His equipage was plain, he wore a 
 uniform of grey blue, and was decorated with 
 the golden fleece and the orders of St. Stephen, 
 and Maria Theresa. His hat was three cornered 
 and ornamented with a bunch of heron's feathers. 
 He was remarkably condescending and fami- 
 liar with the persons who were presented to 
 him. An American gentleman who had an 
 interview of half an hour with him at Vien- 
 na, in which he spoke with much interest 
 on the subject of American commerce, told 
 me that at the end of the conversation, he 
 thanked him with an air of great cordiality 
 and politeness, for the information he had so 
 kindly communicated. He partook but lit- 
 tle in the publick amusements, that had been
 
 118 
 
 got up for his entertainment. The provin- 
 cial noblesse and the merchants of Trieste, 
 were candidates for his smiles; the former 
 endeavouring with " the faded remains of their 
 courtly graces," to withdraw his attention 
 from the latter, whose immense riches ob- 
 scured the boast of heraldry. At the pub- 
 lick balls and conversazioni, the ladies both 
 noble and bourgeois, exerted all the power 
 of their wit and charms, to draw from him 
 a compliment, or to ensnare some of the 
 young officers in his train, the magick lus- 
 tre of wose stars and military decora- 
 tions, played among crowds of beauty, and 
 overpowered many a bright eye and fascinat- 
 ed many an aspiring heart. These fetes were 
 concluded by a magnificent illumination, of 
 which it is scarcely too bold an expression to 
 say, that it restored day light to the streets of 
 Trieste. The masts and rigging of the ships 
 anchored in the Adriatick hung with innume- 
 merable lamps, looked like another hemis- 
 phere of constellations rising from the sea. 
 
 The mind on such occasions, is prone 
 to indulge in reflections on the instability of 
 human greatness, and never did I feel more 
 disposed to moralize, on the eventful scenes
 
 119 
 
 of the great political drama, from the stu- 
 pefaction and horrour of whose bloody ca- 
 tastrophe, mankind have scarcely yet recovered. 
 To compare great things with small, I had 
 witnessed at Paris similar honours paid to 
 Napoleon, when in the height of his prospe- 
 rity, and I remembered him in the decline 
 of his glory, in all the array of imperial pa- 
 geantry passing down the avenue of the Thu- 
 illieres, and entering the palace of the corps 
 Legislatify not like a fugitive but like a tri- 
 umphant conquerour, demanding of that bo- 
 dy its assent to another conscription to res- 
 cue his laurels from disgrace. When I heard 
 him impute the disasters of his army not to 
 human foes, but to the hostility of the ele- 
 ments, there was an imposing grandeur in 
 the peculiarity of his situation, which ap- 
 peared to give the stamp of veracity to his 
 assertion. He alone of all the nation seemed 
 to stand erect at that desperate crisis, anima- 
 ting her to another contest, transfusing into 
 her his own inextinguishable love of glory, 
 and upholding by the power of his genius 
 the mighty fabrick of empire, which was then 
 tottering to its base, and ready to crush 
 him with its ruins.
 
 120 
 
 But to return to Trieste. On the shores 
 of the Adriatick lived Madame Bacciochi, 
 whose hands had swayed the sceptre of Tus- 
 cany, but who now exercised within the sphere 
 of her household, those princely airs and com- 
 manding talents, by which she overawed the 
 degenerate Florentines in the proud palace 
 of the Medici — Here I had seen Maria Louisa 
 fallen from the most commanding station to 
 which ever woman had been lifted up, and 
 content now to exchange with fortune for 
 the empire of the world, the humble princi- 
 pality of Parma. She was dressed in a plain 
 surtout of black silk, and wore on her head 
 a simple straw hat, tied down under her 
 chin with a muslin handkerchief. She took 
 the arm of the Count de Neipperg, and pas- 
 sed through the streets of Trieste, where 
 the rabble gazed upon her with idle and in- 
 decent curiosity. How different from her 
 whom I had seen at the Thuilleries, enthron- 
 ed with Napoleon and dispensing smiles to 
 admiring crowds, " decorating and cheering 
 " the elevated sphere she just began to move 
 " in, glittering like the morning star full of 
 " life, of splendour and joy." 
 
 The Emperour arrived on the thirtieth 
 of April. It is an oid custom at Trieste
 
 121 
 
 to celebrate the first day of May. In a beau- 
 tiful wood that clothes the side of a hill, 
 which commands a prospect of a delightful 
 valley terminated by the Adriatick, the 
 beauty and fashion of Trieste convened at 
 an early hour, to celebrate the first day of 
 the most beautiful month of the year. The 
 morning was remarkably fine. A light breeze 
 blew from the sea, gathering in its progress 
 up the valley, the odours of blooming gar- 
 dens. The company were canopied with 
 boughs, from which occasionally they pluck- 
 ed a green wreath to adorn their persons, as 
 a testimonial of their having assisted at the 
 celebration of these rural honours. The la- 
 dies were seated at tables and served with 
 coffee and other refreshments by their cava- 
 lieri serventi, whose devotion to their fair 
 inamorate, appeared heightened by the beau- 
 ty of a season, sacred to loves. Among 
 the branches that shaded them, the birds 
 seemed more than usually gay and joined 
 their voices to the musick, that played at 
 intervals among the trees, and the soft con- 
 versation of the ladies, 
 
 E concorde degli augelli il coro, 
 
 Q lasi approvando, 
 
 Ogni animal d'amor si riconsiglia-. 
 17
 
 122 
 
 Par che la dura qufircia, e casto alloru, 
 £ tu'ta la frondosa ampia famiglia ; 
 Par che la terra, e Pacqua e formi e spiri, 
 Dolcissimi d'amor sensi, e sospiri.* 
 
 The next day it was publickly announced 
 that the Emperour would visit the grotto of 
 Corgndle, one of the greatest natural curi- 
 osities in the world. The road leading to it 
 passes over mount Polisso, from which there 
 is a magnificent view of the Adriatick. The 
 grotto itself is situated near the village of 
 Corgnale, burrounded by the wild and savage 
 mountains of Idria. Although when we vi- 
 sited it, the season was far advanced in the 
 vallies below, the cold tramontanes that oc- 
 casionally swept by us, reminded us thnt 
 in these elevated regions, the iEolus of the 
 Alps had not yet resigned his dominion to 
 the vernal gales. Here and there the primrose 
 and the violet, looked out irom beneath the 
 shelter of a projecting rock, and a nightin- 
 gale that was trying its first notes in the bran- 
 ches of a leafless shrubbery, seemed to chide 
 the tardiness of the spring. 
 
 The walk to the grotto prepared us for 
 the sight of something marvellous. On one 
 
 * Tasso.
 
 123 
 
 side of the road was to be seen an extensive 
 plain, covered with stones resembling mas- 
 ses of petrified lava; on the other appeared 
 
 Rocks piled on rocks as if by magick spell, 
 
 while the distant horizon presented an Alpine 
 scene of the wildest and most awful grandeur. 
 As we approached its entrance, we found it 
 occupied by a band of peasants with tor- 
 ches in their hands, who advanced to offer 
 themselves as guides, and whose melancho- 
 ly and lugubrious visages, appeared to reflect 
 in all its sullen wildness the surrounding sce- 
 nery. As I looked upon this group, it re- 
 minded me of the melancholy forms, which 
 Virgil has stationed in the passage to the 
 infernal regions, 
 
 Et metus, et malesuada fames, ac turpis egestas, 
 Terribiles visu formse. 
 
 The interiour of the grotto is truly a mas- 
 terpiece of nature. She appears in these dark 
 recesses to have indulged a sullen sport, in 
 mimicking the powers of art, and to have 
 sketched in derision a rude caricature of
 
 124 
 
 some of her rival's grandest performances. 
 Its entrance is divided by what appears 
 when viewed from the inside, to he a massy 
 dorick pillar supporting two light and grace- 
 ful arches. As you advance into this suite 
 of subterranean apartments, greater wonders 
 unfold themselves. One exhibits an imita- 
 tion of the clustered pillars and fretted del- 
 ing of a Gothick church ; another the col- 
 lossal sculpture of Egypt, its deformed and 
 gijrantick caryatides, its obelisks and sphinxes. 
 For the accommodation of the Emperour, 
 this immense chain of caverns was magnifi- 
 cently illuminated, and discovered secrets hi- 
 therto unexplored. Temporary bridges were 
 thrown across deep chasms, and afforded 
 a passage to parts before inaccessible. Flights 
 of stairs led to its lofty galleries, or descended 
 into its profoundest abysses. The blaze of 
 innumerable lamps gave to the whole an ap- 
 pearance truly magical, shewing in profile the 
 ornaments of its fairy architecture, or open- 
 ing to view a row of stalactite columns of 
 the most brilliant whiteness, which looked 
 like a palace of enchantment, adorned with 
 ivory pillars incrustated with diamonds and 
 rubies.
 
 125 
 
 As the season advanced, the snows on the 
 distant mountains began to diminish, the bare 
 summits of the neighbouring hills became vi- 
 sible, and the green vallies at their feet looked 
 gay with the rays of an Italian sun. These 
 hills so bare of verdure, except where they be- 
 gin to sweep into the vallies, terminate in gen- 
 tle slopes adorned with beautiful country-hous- 
 es and gardens. In tracing the windings of 
 the intermediate vallies, the eye of the specta- 
 tor is regaled by the most charming scenes of 
 cultivation. Here the olive, the vine and the 
 fig, sheltered from the cold tramontane wind, 
 ripen to perfection. A person stationed on 
 one of the summits of these commanding hills, 
 enjoys a diversity of noble prospects — the bold 
 capes that advance into the sea, adorned the 
 one with a castle, the other with a city — the 
 site of ancient Aquileia, on which the eye is 
 just able to discern the spire of the miserable 
 village that retains its name — beyond these, the 
 proud Alps covered with snow — near at hand, 
 the villages of St. Servelo and Zauli, and at 
 his feet the busy port of Trieste, extending be- 
 fore which is seen the blue expanse of the 
 Adriatick, with vessels continually appearing 
 and disappearing on its surface.
 
 126 
 
 The country that lies beyond these hills, is 
 rocky, and has an air of savage desolation. I 
 have felt the gloom of solitude in all its severity, 
 while traversing this region of stones. The in- 
 habitants are meagre and sallow, and their 
 countenance descriptive of the sterile spot of 
 earth, from which they draw their subsistence. 
 Their villages are cheerless, and the want of 
 comfort apparent in their habitations, casts a 
 double shade of melancholy over a country, 
 which nature has sufficiently characterized by 
 the wildest features of rudeness and deformity. 
 Within this territory, which is so inauspiciously 
 marked, there are, however, places ennobled by 
 that savage species of grandeur, which rouses 
 "a noble horrour in the soul." Masses of 
 rock hurled confusedly together, and huge 
 mounds of stone seem to be the work of su- 
 perhuman agents, and look as if this desolated 
 spot had been the seat of the warfare of giants. 
 
 The road from Trieste to Optschina, re- 
 quires in all cases of a light carriage an addi- 
 tional horse or two, and greatly increases the 
 expense of the transportation of heavy goods 
 into the interiourofthe Empire. Joseph the se- 
 cond is reported to have said, that a yoke of oxen, 
 would have discovered here a better road than
 
 127 
 
 his engineers. Among the many noble im- 
 provements left unfinished in this quarter of 
 Europe, by the late French government, is the 
 plan of an admirable road, conducted by ea- 
 sy ascents over this chain of hills, which could 
 not have failed to add greatly to the prosperity 
 of Trieste, by considerably diminishing the ob- 
 stacle of an expensive land carriage, into Ita- 
 ly and Germany. 
 
 The road to Montefalcone, is not calcu- 
 lated to give a traveller any foretaste of that 
 beauty and fertility, which he has been accustom- 
 ed to associate with the idea of Italy. But leav- 
 ing Montefalcone, the country improves in ap- 
 pearance, and at Goritzia, the soil produces so 
 abundantly, as to give to the plain in which it 
 is situated, the appearance of an extensive gar- 
 den. To the north of Goritzia rises a ridge of 
 hills, upon the southern declivities of which, is 
 cultivated the picolit grape, from which a rich 
 and exquisite wine is made, rivalling the flavour 
 of the boasted tokay of Hungary. These 
 hills render the environs of Goritzia, remarks 
 bly picturesque. From their summits descends 
 the Isonzo, whose limpid waters rolled over a 
 gravelly bed, flow through a country whose natu- 
 ral fertility, aided by the power of cultivation,
 
 128 
 
 gives to the banks of this beautiful stream, air 
 appearance that forms a bright contrast with that 
 part of the province of Istria, which lies be- 
 tween Trieste and Montefalcone. 
 
 The dialect of Friuli is harsh and unmusi- 
 cal. It is the Italian divested of its vowel ter- 
 minations, and corrupted by a foreign in- 
 fusion of words, from the Illyrian and other 
 languages. At Goritzia, the higher, as well 
 as the lower classes, speak this patois, and pride 
 themselves on speaking it fluently, and I have 
 seen a lady, who, after conversing for some 
 time in pure and elegant Tuscan, turn to her 
 familiar acquaintance, and discourse readily in 
 the Furlana dialect. 
 
 The neighbouring mountains are inhabited, 
 by a race of peasants, different from those who 
 live on the plains. A nobleman who has ex- 
 tensive forges and saw-mills on the Isonzo, and 
 who employs a number of them in cutting 
 wood, gave me this description of the simple 
 manners of these hardy mountaineers. Their 
 food v& polenta, or the flour of indian corn boil- 
 ed, which three times a day, is measured out to 
 them from a large vessel. Although the sides 
 of their hills produces the most delicious wine,
 
 129 
 
 they scarcely know this luxury ; yet breathing 
 the pure air of the mountain, subsisting on the 
 most simple diet, and employed in the invigo- 
 rating exercise of wielding the axe, they have 
 for many generations retained the lofty stature, 
 symmetry of limbs, and fine muscular propor- 
 tions, which constitute the perfection of the 
 human form. 
 
 Goritzia boasts a very pure and ancient nobi- 
 lity ; their palaces are magnificent, and their 
 style of living elegant. Here were residing in 
 splendid exile, the Duke and Dutchess of Bas- 
 sano ; the Duke cherishing the hope, that his 
 services will be required by the Bourbons, and 
 his fair Dutchess, lamenting the loss of that 
 admiration her charms inspired at the Thuil- 
 leries, where she shone a star of the first mag- 
 nitude, in that galaxy of beauty, which sur- 
 rounded the Empress of France. 
 
 The roads from Udine to Palma Nouva, and 
 from thence to Venice, are the work principal- 
 ly of the late French government, and merit 
 the highest encomiums. They are not likely 
 to be maintained in their original condition 
 by the Austrian government, whose parsi- 
 mony and neglect with regard to works of 
 18
 
 130 
 
 publick utility in the provinces recently an- 
 nexed to the Empire, have already made it 
 odious to the people. I was informed that 
 the passage of the Simplon was considerably 
 out of repair, and that it was extremely 
 probable, this masterpiece of labour and 
 skill, w T ould be suffered to go to ruin. 
 Austria feels no interest in facilitating the in- 
 tercourse between Italy and France, and it 
 does not enter into the views and policy of 
 the present French government, to contribute 
 to the preservation of a work, which the am- 
 bition of conquest produced, 
 
 Palma Nouva is a fortress situated on the 
 frontiers of the Venetian Lombardy. It is 
 rendered interesting chiefly by its connexion 
 with the hostile operations of the French, du- 
 ring the late war in this quarter of Italy. Its 
 magnificent bastions, draw-bridges and ram- 
 parts, excite the admiration of the traveller, 
 while the masterly skill displayed in the con- 
 struction of this powerful apparatus of defen- 
 sive war, affords the scientifick engineer, an 
 illustration of almost every principle of his 
 art. 
 
 Leaving Palma Nouva behind, and pursu- 
 ing the road leading directly to the shores
 
 131 
 
 of the Adriatick, you arrive in a few hours at 
 the ruins of Ancient Aquileia. Mutilated 
 columns and entablatures of great beauty, 
 sarcophagi and funeral urns, mounds compos- 
 ed of fragments of verd' antico, giallo au- 
 tico serpentino and porphyry, attest the beau- 
 ty and magnificence of the city that fell be- 
 fore the fury of Attila. In digging below the 
 surface of the ground, a flight of steps and 
 the walls of a large edifice have been discover- 
 ed. Stones that appear to have suffered the 
 action of a powerful fire, and calcined human 
 bones were here melancholy evidences of the 
 rage of barbarian violence. The field in which 
 this ruin was discovered is overspread with frag- 
 ments of brick and cement, and I have little 
 doubt but that the treasures of art sepulchred 
 beneath this soil, would well repay the expense 
 and trouble of removing it. I inquired of 
 the commissary of police why an undertaking 
 which promised to enrich the fine arts with 
 such important accessions, was not prosecut- 
 ed with greater vigour. He replied that a small 
 fund had been appropriated to this purpose 
 by the Emperour, but that this was now ex- 
 hausted, and that the researches at Aquileia 
 were discontinued in consequence of the to- 
 tal oblivion of them at Vienna. Had other
 
 132 
 
 monarchs paid the same degree of attention 
 to the interests of the fine arts, the subter- 
 ranean wonders of Herculaneum and Pom_ 
 peii would never have seen the light. 
 
 Many of the peasants carry about them 
 ancient cameos and coins of great beauty, 
 which they exhibit only to strangers, as the 
 laws of treasure-trove are here rigorously en- 
 forced. The commissary shewed me a valua- 
 ble collection of silver coins, and one as old 
 as the time of Lentulus, a leader in Cataline's 
 conspiracy. 
 
 It is impossible to conceive a state more 
 wretched, than that of the present inhabitants 
 of Aquileia. Poverty here appears in most 
 loathsome and disgusting forms. The aque- 
 ducts that formerly supplied it with water, 
 so essential to the health of its inhabitants, 
 are either obstructed or have fallen to de- 
 cay ; and thirst and famine, the scourges of 
 war, are, in a state of peace, devouring all that 
 remains of that beautiful city, the inha- 
 bitants of which fled or sunk before the un- 
 sparing sword of Attila. In a publick square 
 stands the melancholy ruin of a fountain, 
 around which prosperity and happiness appear 
 once to have reigned, but where now an air of
 
 133 
 
 solitude prevails that oppresses the heart. The 
 immense landed possessions of count Cassis, 
 cover the fairest portion of the territory of Aqui- 
 leia. This vast estate, which if broken and divi- 
 ded among its inhabitants, would make each pea- 
 sant comfortable and happy, in the hands of a sin- 
 gle individual, impoverishes and enslaves them. 
 The produce of their labour, and the revenues 
 of the land, go to nourish the prodigality of its 
 proprietor, who resides at Trieste amidst all 
 the pleasures of oriental luxury. — Who is there, 
 that in contemplating these extremes of misery 
 and splendour, who does not hail with rapture 
 the period, however distant, when a more gene- 
 ral diffusion of knowledge, and a more equal 
 distribution of rights, shall abolish every ves- 
 tige of the feudal system ? And what Italian 
 who beholds this hydra-headed monster rear 
 its proud crest once more upon his native land, 
 who does not secretly invoke the powerful 
 arm of the late champion of France, who beat 
 it down and destroyed it, wherever it obstruct- 
 ed the march of his ambition ? and what 
 American who recollects the condition of his 
 own happy country, who does not kindle with 
 enthusiasm, when he reflects that by a fortu- 
 nate coincidence of moral and physical circum- 
 stances, it is exempted from the haughty op- 
 pressions and ruinous vices of a nobility ?
 
 134 
 
 
 I embarked for Venice in the month of 
 May. The rocky coast of Istria, clothed with 
 spring, presented a variety of cultivated and 
 savage prospects. Gardens and country-houses 
 climbing up the sides of the neighbouring hills, 
 and intermixed with vineyards, and boschetti f 
 afforded a pleasing contrast to the rocky scene- 
 ry, with which they were interspersed. At 
 length the city of Trieste and its surrounding 
 hills disappeared, and nothing remained visible 
 in the quarter of the horizon where it lay, but the 
 top of one of the Idrian mountains, which over- 
 hung it like a blue promontory. A light breeze 
 wafted us across the Adriatick. In the course 
 of our voyage, we gazed with wonder upon 
 the neighboring Alps, which rose from the mar- 
 gin of the sea, and shewed themselves in their 
 grandest forms. But our attention was soon at- 
 tracted by another object no less marvellous and 
 striking ; for Venice began to appear with all her 
 towers, domes and palaces, floating upon the 
 waves, over which she still seemed to reign in- 
 disputed mistress; but when we entered her 
 deserted harbour, the evidences of ruined gran-
 
 135 
 
 deur, reminded us that the trident she once 
 triumphantly wielded, was fallen from her 
 grasp. 
 
 We landed upon the quay of St. Mark, 
 among its mountebanks and marionette. Groups 
 of women and children, stood laughing at the 
 comick feats of Polichinello. The idle gondo- 
 lier^ basking in the sun, called out to us as 
 we passed, or disputed among themselves with 
 all the caustick wit and vehemence of gesticu- • 
 lation, characteristick of Venetian vivacity. A 
 sort of improvisator e, stood in the midst of a 
 circle, with the impassioned gestures of an ora- 
 tor, recounting anecdotes of Joseph the second, 
 and episodes and adventures from Tasso and 
 Ariosto, to which he gave a colouring and ima- 
 gery of his own. The Venetian florists displayed 
 the fairest offerings of the spring upon the quay. 
 Orange-trees and myrtles perfumed the air, and 
 near the shade of these, the bird-fancier hung his 
 cages of goldfinches and nightingales. Glass- 
 es and jars filled with water, were disposed up- 
 on neat tables, and intermixed with perfumes 
 and cordials, and " chi vuol acqua" was voci- 
 ferated from twenty places at the same time, 
 with importunate vehemence. Persons of the 
 lowest condition were to be seen frequently
 
 136 
 
 approaching these tables, and purchasing a 
 glass of water, for which they paid a centesu 
 mo. In St. Mark's square, near the arcades, 
 were erected beautiful tents, as a shelter from 
 the rays of the sun, under which a people 
 were assembled, whose countenances were 
 marked with no indications of laborious thought, 
 but who appeared to be enjoying in these seats 
 of delicious repose, those vague illusions of the 
 fancy, which the soft climate of the South, 
 • and the thousand amusing objects around, 
 were calculated to inspire. 
 ■ 
 My attention was withdrawn from these ob- 
 jects, by the Architectural magnificence that 
 surrounded me. St. Mark's church and the 
 ducal palace monuments, of a bad taste, 
 displayed, however, all the imposing gran- 
 deur and rich decorations of the arabesque 
 style, opposite to purer specimens of art, 
 sanctioned by noble designs of Palladia 
 and Sansoviuo. 
 
 It is difficult to trace the features and form of 
 St. Mark's church, so overloaded is it with or- 
 nament, and so discordant are the principles of 
 architecture united in its composition. Three 
 hundred pillars of porphyry verd' antico > and
 
 137 
 
 Other precious marbles of Grecian proportions, 
 are crowded into the lower story of the front, 
 for the sake merely of ornament. The facade is 
 divided into two stories by a long gallery, 
 in the centre of which, stand four bronze 
 horses, the masterpieces of Lyssippus. The 
 five arches below and those above are enriched 
 with figures on a gilt ground of mosaick. The 
 upper story is covered with a profusion of light 
 and delicate ornaments, crowned with the pon- 
 derous domes of an eastern mosque. The same 
 puerile taste apparent in the decoration and con- 
 struction of its exterior, appears to have regu- 
 lated the choice and disposition of its internal 
 ornaments. Its altar, which dazzles with a 
 blaze of opulence — its oriental marbles — its 
 gilded domes, cannot supply the charm of that 
 unity and simplicity, which is here sacrificed to 
 a love of minute finery. 
 
 Sometimes, however, the most exception- 
 able works of art, derive from an interesting 
 event, an extraordinary influence over the ima- 
 gination. I entered St. Mark's church during 
 the celebration of the funeral obsequies of Ma- 
 ria Louisa, late empress of Austria. The inte- 
 riour was hung with drapery. In the middle 
 of the aisle under the central dome, a flight of 
 19
 
 138 
 
 steps was raised, supporting the bier of the em- 
 press, over which was thrown the imperial 
 mantle, adorned with the arms of the house of 
 Lorraine. At each of the four corners on the 
 second step was stationed an officer of the im- 
 perial guard attired in a brilliant uniform. The 
 whole was guarded by four marble cherubim, 
 each holding a lighted torch in one hand and co- 
 vering, his face with the other. The pomp of 
 these funeral honours, — the rank and beauty of 
 the person, who was the object of them,— the so- 
 lemn chaunt of the requiem, — the crowds of 
 mendicants assembled here, to implore the cha- 
 rity of the visitor, or to seek the comforts of 
 religion, diffused over the mind a solemn feel- 
 ing, and excluded from it for the moment every 
 consideration, but what related to the illus- 
 trious deceased. 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
 The solemn grandeur of these funeral rites, 
 whilst my mind was wholly absorbed in the 
 contemplation of them, blinded me to the 
 faults of the temple, in the interiour of which 
 they were celebrated, and in which a sober and 
 dispassionate judgment finds so much to con- 
 demn.
 
 139 
 
 Immediately before the church, are the three 
 standards on which formerly waved the ban- 
 ners of the republick. Their pedestals of 
 bronze, sculptured in mezzo releivo, are the 
 performance of the artist Leopard'^ in the reign 
 of the Doge Leonardo Loredano. But among 
 the objects of the square, the most conspicu- 
 ous on account of its great elevation, is the 
 tower of St. Mark ; its height is three hundred 
 and thirty -two feet, and although erected upon 
 a spot that was originally a marshy island in the 
 sea, its altitude has not suffered the smallest 
 diminution. The stairs in the inside leading to 
 its campanile* or bell- loft, are so easy, and the 
 passage so spacious, that it may be mounted on 
 horseback. Here, as may be well conceived, 
 a prospect presents itself as novel as it is beau- 
 tiful and gay, for the spectator not only sees be- 
 low him the place and church of St. Mark, but 
 measures with his eye the whole extent of the ci- 
 ty of Venice, its canals and lagune spotted with 
 light gondolas, — the shores of Mestre and the 
 country of the Brenta. The tower terminates 
 
 * A singular accident happened in the tower of St. 
 Mark, a short time before 1 visited it. The tongue of 
 the enormous bell suddenly gave way, and crushed to 
 death a person walking beneath it. I saw the fatal frag- 
 ment, and attempted in vain to raise it.
 
 140 
 
 at the top in a pyramid, upon the summit of 
 which stands the bronze figure of an angel, 
 which sometimes appears to have a circular mo- 
 tion, and to indicate with the tips of its wings 
 the direction of the wind. 
 
 The apartments in the interiour of the ducal 
 palace call up in the mind many noble ideas, 
 and their power of elevating the thoughts, ari- 
 ses principally from the multitude of excellent 
 paintings, with which they are adorned. Here 
 the rich pencils and copious inventions of Tu 
 tian, Paulo Veronese and Tintoretto, have ex- 
 hibited a . glowing picture of the past, so rich 
 in illustrious achievements ; and these master- 
 pieces of art, must have contributed to nou- 
 rish the virtues of the republick, and to pro- 
 tract the span of its glory beyond the term, at 
 which it was destined to expire by the ope- 
 ration of moral and physical causes. 
 
 In passing to these apartments, the visitor 
 stops to admire the cortile of the palace, and 
 the staircase of white marble, leading to its 
 corridores, called scala del giganti, from two 
 colossal statues in marble of Mars and Nep- 
 tune, by Sansovino, denoting the two-fold do- 
 minion of the republick. On entering the
 
 141 
 
 «orridor, opposite to this staircase, an inscrip- 
 tion presents itself in red characters upon a 
 golden ground, in commemoration of Henry 
 the third, king of France, and first sovereign of 
 Poland, who in the year fifteen hundred and se- 
 venty four, passed through Venice on his 
 way to Frar.ce, to receive the crown after the 
 death of his brother Charles the ninth, and 
 who was pleased to accept the title of noble 
 Venetian, offered him by the senate, and to be 
 enrolled in the golden book. 
 
 On the left is a chapel, which the Doge 
 Pietro Ziani erected to St. Nicolas. It was 
 afterwards rebuilt by Andrea Gritti and paint- 
 ed in fresco by Titian. In this story of the 
 palace were held the different courts of jus- 
 tice. The staircase leading to the Ducal 
 apartments of the second story, is ornament- 
 ed with stucco, and the intermediate spaces 
 are embellished with historical pieces, by the 
 pencil of Batista Franco. In the Sala ex- 
 collegio the Doge held a session of the coun- 
 sellors of state. The hall of the counsel of 
 ten is remarkable for the beautiful allegorical 
 painting on its ceiling, where Jove is repre- 
 sented hurling the lightnings upon those par- 
 ticular crimes, which were subject to the ju-
 
 142 
 
 risdiction of the august body assembled be- 
 neath it, whose genius is personified v by the 
 winged figure, which stands near Jove hol- 
 ding the volume ot its laws. 
 
 The walls of the great council chamber, So- 
 la del ex-magior consiglio, are surrounded 
 with a series of portraits of the Doges, as 
 they reigned in chronological order. One of 
 them who fell by the axe of the law, is blot- 
 ted out of the list, but the day of his execu- 
 tion and the nature of his punishment, still re- 
 main inscribed upon the black veil, that co- 
 vers the portrait of the traitor. Above the 
 throne of the Doge is a vast picture by Tin- 
 toretto, representing the day of judgment. 
 Armies of angels and saints seated amidst the 
 clouds, and illuminated by the rays of celes- 
 tial glory, have a pleasing effect and exhibit 
 that magical variety of light and colours, 
 so much extolled in the compositions of the 
 Venetian masters. In the spaces between the. 
 windows which open upon the piazza, Paulo 
 Veronese has painted the triumphal return of 
 the Doge Andrea Contarini, after his victory 
 over the Genoese. The subjects of the 
 other paintings relate to the capture of Con- 
 stantinople by the Venetians, the league of
 
 143 
 
 Cambray, and the victories of the republick 
 over Frederick Barbarossa. 
 
 The Sala del cx-squintinio contains a painting 
 of the capture of Zara, one of Tintoretto's 
 finest pieces. Here is also a painting, which 
 has for its subject a victory of the Doge Mi- 
 chieli over a caliph of Egypt, in the beginning 
 of the twelfth century. A gallant feat of a Ve- 
 netian standard-bearer, in this battle, deserves 
 to be noticed. Having lost his standard he 
 tears a turban from the head of an Egyptian 
 officer, unfolds it, attaches it to a spear and 
 in order to render it more conspicuous, cuts off 
 the arm of the barbarian, and with his blood 
 traces a circle in the centre, then waves it 
 aloft in the place of his standard. This 
 hardy yet ferocious achievement, obtained 
 for his descendants, the appellation of Bar- 
 baroy who took for their arms a turban spread 
 out, and marked in the centre with a crim- 
 son circle. 
 
 Beneath the ducal palace lie those tremen* 
 dous prisons (i pozzi) at the entrance of which, 
 the unhappy victim bade an eternal adieu to 
 the light of heaven. The bridge of sighs 
 ( tionte del sospiri,) so called from the groans
 
 144 
 
 of the criminals, that issued from the ad- 
 joining prison, connects the latter with the 
 ducal palace, as if to remind sovereigns of 
 the shortness of the distance, between the 
 throne and the dungeon. 
 
 The porticoes, colonnades, statues and cor- 
 nices of the palaces around St. Mark's place, 
 are light and graceful, and as it has been re- 
 marked, form a striking contrast with the as- 
 pect of the church at one of its extremities, 
 which with its splendid load of costly orna- 
 ment, has an air of rude and barbarous magni- 
 ficence. An open portico passes round the 
 whole of the piazza, the interiour of which 
 is gay, with a multitude of coffee-houses and 
 jeweller's shops. The buildings on the eastern 
 side called Procaratie Nuove, are after the de- 
 signs of Sansovino, and exhibit three orders, 
 the Dorick, the Ionick and Corinthian, of the 
 most graceful architecture. Opposite to these, 
 are the Procuratie Fecchie, the external arrange- 
 ment of which, is nearly similar, except that 
 the arcades are supported by pilasters, and the 
 order of the colonnades is Tuscan. In the 
 same line with the Procuratie VeccKie stands 
 the tower of the clock of St. Mark, remarkable 
 for the two figures in bronze (i mori,) upon
 
 145 
 
 its summit, standing on each side of a large bell, 
 upon which they strike with a hammer the hour 
 of the day. From this quarter the noblest 
 views of St. Mark's place present themselves. 
 Looking towards the Adriatick, the view opens 
 upon the Piazzeta through a superb architec- 
 tural vista, formed by the front of St. Mark's 
 church, the ducal palace and the colonnades 
 of the publick library, at the extremity of 
 which, upon the summit of a granite column, 
 the lion of St. Mark with expanded wings, ap- 
 pears just to have alighted like the guardian di- 
 vinity of the place. Upon the right hand, St. 
 Mark's place opens in all its magnificence. 
 The light and graceful architecture of its build- 
 ings, the beautiful level of its pavements, 
 upon the uniform smoothness of which the 
 eye loves to dwell, the blue awnings, and 
 tents erected in different places, and filled with 
 company regaling themselves with sorbets and 
 coffee, compose a scene beautiful and ani- 
 mated. 
 
 Besides that admiration to which it is fairly 
 entitled, in consequence of the impressions it 
 is fitted to produce in every mind, awake to 
 the beauties of art, St. Mark's place is also 
 celebrated for its being the principal seen •- of 
 20
 
 146 
 
 Venetian gaiety and vice ; of pleasures which 
 know no pause or intermission. Never is it si- 
 lent or vacant. Its coffee-houses are perpetual- 
 ly open, and there is no part of the night in 
 which the voice of gaiety is not heard in its ar- 
 cades. Here the carnival, at its proper season, 
 displays all its enchantment, and beholding it 
 illuminated by an Italian moon, I could not 
 forbear imagining it for a moment, the scene of 
 one of those fairy revels, which have an air of 
 such enchantment in the narratives of the travel- 
 ler and the fictions of the novelist. These vi- 
 sions of fancy, however, soon gave place to feel- 
 ings more profound and sacred. The intoxi- 
 cation of sensual delight, appears to have 
 transformed human life at Venice, into some- 
 thing little better than the vision of a waking 
 dream. Yet this life, the surface of which ap- 
 pears so unruffled, is subject to the most vio- 
 lent and tumultuous agitations. The charac- 
 ter of this people exhibits a strange mixture of 
 libertinism and superstition, ot energy and im- 
 becility. Although their mode of life affords a 
 complete exemplification of the doctrines of 
 epicurism, the apprehension of death over- 
 powers them with an insupportable horrour. 
 They are terrified at the slightest indisposition, 
 which they are apt to interpret as a summons to
 
 147 
 
 the grave. The scene of Venetian libertinism 
 immediately surrounds the cathedral of St. 
 Mark, and roused from her dream of pleasure 
 by the fear of approaching dissolution, the fair 
 penitent may fly to its altars for hope. This 
 was the case of a Venetian lady whom I knew, 
 and who evinced a depth of intellect and a 
 reach of thought beyond her sex, but whose 
 imagination, in con sequence of a momentary 
 loss of health, or a casual depression of spirits, 
 became haunted with the phantoms of a gloomy 
 superstition. I have had frequent occasion 
 to remark in my intercourse with Italian socie- 
 ty, the strength and permanence on the under- 
 standings of some of its most enlightened 
 and accomplished individuals — of those impres- 
 sions, which in this country, the mind discards 
 from their repugnancy to the sober conclusions 
 of reason, almost as soon as it is freed irom 
 the restraints and discipline of the nursery. 
 
 Nothing contributes more to perpetuate the 
 doctrine of the mediation of saints, in the 
 minds of those among whom it prevails, than 
 that peculiarity in their intellectual character, 
 which incapacitates them for contemplating 
 the Deity, in the calm light of philosophical 
 abstraction, divested of those impurer and
 
 148 
 
 grosser v qualities, with which the fervours of 
 a misguided imagination are apt to clothe 
 the divine nature. The religious opinions 
 of a people who cannot abstract their ideas 
 from the images of sense, must necessarily 
 be subject to all the capricious influences of 
 fancy. The idea of the Deity can never 
 present itself in all the nakedness of abstrac- 
 tion to their thoughts, without terrifying and 
 alarming them. They must approach him 
 through the intervention of intermediate in- 
 telligences, intelligences that have once suf- 
 fered the infirmities of human nature. In no 
 other way can their affections become united 
 to the prime source of purity and intelligence. 
 Nor is this a bias which prevails only in the 
 minds of Roman catholicks. Its influence 
 operates more or less, upon the religious 
 opinions of all mankind. When subject to 
 the control <of reason, it is the source of ratio- 
 nal and manly piety, and its universality vin- 
 dicates the truth of Christianity, which in re- 
 vealing a Saviour to the world, fulfils the in- 
 tention of the author of our nature, as far 
 as it is to be discovered by us, in the frame 
 and constitution of the human mind.
 
 149 
 
 This proneness to a religion, which exercises 
 almost exclusively the imagination and the 
 senses, is not blameable in itself, but being 
 the offspring of a weak mind, its influence 
 on human happiness is too considerable, not 
 to render it one of the first objects of soli- 
 citude, in every system of moral and intel- 
 lectual improvement. Of this truth the mo- 
 ral habits of the Venetians afford an illustra- 
 tion. Sensual and pious, they are forever sin- 
 ning and repenting. At one time regarding 
 their religion as the creation of a vulgar su- 
 perstition, at another seeking in its despised 
 ordinances and institutions, a refuge from those 
 phantoms, with which it is calculated to agi- 
 tate the conscience of terrified guilt. There is 
 not enough of abstraction in their philosophy, 
 and in their religion, which like their poetry, 
 give no exercise to the nobler powers of the 
 mind. 
 
 The example of the Venetians, would lead 
 us to the opinion, that the social state after its 
 arrival at its highest pitch of prosperity and re- 
 finement, has a natural tendency to decline. 
 The charm of polished manners, the splen- 
 did comforts of opulence, the elegancies of 
 art, are the product of genius and labour,
 
 150 
 
 but when once acquired, they lull into inaction 
 the energies and talents employed in their ac- 
 quisition. The Venetian commonwealth sprung 
 from that moral force which is generated by a 
 conflict with difficulty. The pupils of adversi- 
 ty, the Venetians soon learned from their severe 
 instructress, to vanquish the disadvantages 
 of their inhospitable situation, and familiar 
 with danger, they would naturally delight 
 to seek and confront it, in their native ele- 
 ment. When Attila compelled the inhabi- 
 tants of Aquileia, to seek refuge in the shal- 
 lows of the Adriatick, it was little thought 
 that this wretched band of fugitives, would 
 found a republick, which should shake to its 
 foundation the Ottoman Empire, and overawe 
 the confederated powers of Europe. Where 
 is now fled that spirit of toil and adven- 
 ture, which collected here the wealth of 
 India? Where is now that nobility whose 
 taste and love of magnificence prompted them 
 to dissipate their treasures, in burthening the 
 sea with these immense structures ? Ask 
 the Venetians what has become of their Pi- 
 sani, their Cornari, their Contarini, — and they 
 are silent. " In a few years their few successors 
 will go to the family vault, of " all the Capu- 
 lets." Venice has terminated her career of
 
 151 
 
 glory. Some vestiges remain of her once 
 noble and commanding form, but the soul 
 that animated it is fled, and we in vain 
 search for that creative spirit, which rear- 
 ed from these sterile waters, this superb as- 
 semblage of palaces and temples. 
 
 From what you see of the Venetians in 
 their favourite rendezvous of pleasure, you 
 would suppose them the happiest people in 
 the world ; but follow them to their homes 
 and the scene is entirely reversed. A wretched 
 half furnished apartment, the windows of 
 which look upon the sullen waters of a 
 lonely canal, whose solitude is interrupted 
 only by the occasional appearance of a black, 
 gondola, is often the abode of some ruined 
 family, once high in the ranks of nobility. 
 In a mansion whose appearance announces 
 the interiour of a palace, beauty and accom- 
 plishment are often found languishing in 
 want, yet solacing their sad condition by 
 those pleasures, which Italy still yields to 
 the imagination and the heart. The gay as- 
 semblies of St. Murk's place, in the eve- 
 ning, — a musical party on the water, — a trip 
 to Padua along the pleasant banks of the 
 Brenta, have the power of dissipating the
 
 152 
 
 gloom of adversity. Venice is still the scene 
 of gallantry and love, and among its canals 
 and palaces, the pictures of romance often 
 recur to the fancy of the traveller. I have 
 been sometimes tempted to stop in a gondola 
 beneath a window, to listen to strains which 
 appeared to be those of some captive beauty, 
 complaining of the treachery of fortune. 
 There is magick in every sound one hears 
 in this scene of gallantry and romance, and 
 amidst its remains of proud magnificence, 
 every trivial circumstance speaks to the fan- 
 cy and the heart. 
 
 Opposite the piazza of St. Mark, on a 
 beautiful island of about a mile in circuit, 
 stands the church of St. Giorgio Maggiore. 
 It adjoins a garden and monastery, where the 
 visitor, transported from the gay diversions 
 of St. Mark's place, may taste the pleasures 
 of religious solitude. The church itself was 
 designed by Palladia. Its facade is of marble 
 and adorned with seven statues, two of which 
 stand in the intercolumniations, and five on the 
 top of the pediment. The great altar, which 
 is insulated, is composed of the finest mar- 
 ble, and is adorned with bronze statues, of 
 the four Evangelists supporting a globe upon
 
 153 
 
 which stands the eternal Father. The sculp- 
 ture which adorns the seats of the choir, 
 represents the principal events in the life of 
 St. Benedict. In the refectory stood the no- 
 ted painting of the nuptials of Cana by 
 Paul Veronese^ whence it was removed by 
 the French to the gallery of the Louvre, at 
 Paris. It contains a hundred and twenty 
 figures, many of which are likenesses of 
 persons, who were friends and contempora- 
 ries of the artist. 
 
 The tombs of the Doges in this church 
 have a noble effect. These monuments erect- 
 ed in honour of those, who by their valour 
 and wisdom have exalted the Venetian name, 
 are a grand and affecting testimony of na- 
 tional gratitude, and while they perpetuate 
 the fame of the illustrious qualities of which 
 they are the reward, they are calculated to 
 remind the solitary recluse, that a life of 
 genuine piety consists in the exercise of 
 virtues connected with publick useful- 
 ness, and which are cultivated and matur- 
 ed only in the scenes of active life. 
 
 The hero, who principally claims our at- 
 tention here, among these chiefs of the re- 
 
 21
 
 154 
 
 publick, is the Doge Sebastiani Ziani, who 
 lies entombed with his son and grandson 
 Pietro and Jacopo, who appear to have inhe- 
 rited his virtues. In his time Pope Alexan- 
 der the third, flying before the vengeance of 
 Frederick Barbaross% arrived at Venice, where 
 he inhabited the patriarchal palace, and where 
 he was treated with becoming respect by the 
 Doge and senate, 
 
 In the reign of this Doge, first mention is 
 made of the annual custom of espousing 
 the Adriatick sea, where, after his return 
 from a naval victory over Otho, the Pope 
 presents him a ring to be used in the cele- 
 bration of these nuptials, with this decla- 
 ration, che il mare e sottoposto a vostro do- 
 minio come la moglia al marito. 
 
 Nothing can be conceived more brilliant, 
 than the picture which historians give of Ve- 
 nice under the government of this Doge. The 
 number of ambassadors, princes, cardinals 
 archbishops, prelates and other distinguished 
 personages then at Venice, is said to have 
 amounted to five thousand, besides those at- 
 tached to the imperial court which also resided 
 here.
 
 155 
 
 This Doge died in the sixth year of his 
 reign, covtred with glory, leaving the republick 
 opulent and powerful, bequeathing a large por- 
 tion of his fortune to the people, enriching the 
 religious establishment of the Island of St. 
 Giorgio, and appropriating a fund to be em- 
 ployed for the relief of those suffering in the 
 publick prisons. 
 
 Leaving the Island of St. Giorgio, passing 
 the Dogana and proceeding up the grand canal, 
 the church of St. Maria della Salute, a striking 
 and magnificent object presents itself. Venice in 
 the year sixteen hundred and thirty, being almost 
 depopulated by the plague, the senate made a 
 vow to erect a church in honour of St. Maria del- 
 la Salute, of which this superb structure was the 
 consequence. It rises by a flight of fifteen 
 steps from the margin of the canal ; its facade 
 is of marble, and formed by four columns of 
 the composite order. In the spaces between 
 them on each side of the great portal of the 
 church, are two niches one above the other, 
 and separated by a cornice of the lightest and 
 most graceful sculpture. The ornaments of late- 
 ral facade are equally splendid, and its roof and 
 pediments are adorned with a multitude of mar- 
 ble statues.
 
 156 
 
 The interiour of the church is circular, over 
 the centre of which, rises the superb octangu- 
 lar dome, painted in fresco by Pellegrini, and 
 supported by eight lofty columns with richly 
 ornamented capitals. Immediately above these 
 columns around its base, runs a rich cornice 
 of the composite order, adorned with a balus- 
 trade and eight large statues corresponding to 
 the eight capitals below. Thirty feet above 
 these, the curvature of the dome commences, 
 seventy -two feet in diameter, and fifty in height, 
 without comprehending the lanterne. 
 
 The floor of the church is paved with the 
 richest marble, and behind the columns which 
 support the cupola is an open space, in which 
 are situated, chapels, with altars and pilasters of 
 the richest marble, and adorned, some of them, 
 with inestimable paintings. The great altar is 
 shaded by a canopy supported by four Corinthian 
 pillars of carrara marble. The piece of sculp- 
 ture representing St. Mary expelling the daemon 
 of pestilence, by Campagna, is worthy of that 
 artist. 
 
 In the refectory is a painting of the mar- 
 riage feast of Cana, by Tintoretto^ and the 
 ceiling is ornamented with pictures by Titian
 
 157 
 
 and Salviati. The dwelling of the monks of 
 Stomaski is an edifice that does not disgrace the 
 magnificent temple near which it is erected. 
 This order possesses a valuable and extensive 
 library, rich also in drawings and engravings. 
 
 In the sanctuary of Rosario in the church of 
 St. Giovanni e Pao/o, the marble bas reliefs 
 of Bonazza, merit particular attention. The pre- 
 cision with which the artist has finished each in- 
 dividual object, and the astonishing vigour of 
 expression he has given to his figures, cannot 
 fail to strike the most superficial observer. Two 
 of these bas reliefs are particularly striking, on 
 account of their exquisite beauty. The sub- 
 ject of the former is the nativity, that of the 
 latter, Christ disputing with the doctors in the 
 temple. In the one, the furniture of the hum- 
 ble apartment which was the scene of the Mes- 
 siah's birth, is detailed with an exactness which 
 astonishes the more it* is examined. The other 
 rivals in life and spirit, the most vigorous per- 
 formances of the pencil. The divine simpli- 
 city — the ingenuousness and truth expressed 
 in the countenance of the young disputant, are 
 admirably contrasted with that air of ingenious 
 subtlety, dogmatism of opinion and pride of 
 learning, that marks the eager and overbearing
 
 158 
 
 controversialists, whose doctrines he is combat- 
 ing. This church is adorned with a numbef 
 of excellent pictures by the different Venetian 
 masters, among which was Titian's incom- 
 parable piece of the martyrdom of St. Peter. 
 
 Among the multitudes of Doges that 
 lie buried here, the visitor remarks the 
 superb mausoleum of Leonardo Loredano. 
 Around the statue of the Doge seated, by 
 Campagna, are various symbolical figures, one 
 signifies peace, the other abundance ; one 
 is a personification of the league of Cambray, 
 the other of the military power of the Vene- 
 tians. Leonardo was conspicuous for his heroi- 
 cal devotion to his country, during the critical 
 period of the league of Cambray. In sending 
 his two sons to the defence of Padua, he 
 kindled a flame of emulation in the flower 
 of the Venetian nobility, who each collec- 
 ting a company of friends, followed the exam- 
 ple of the sons of Leonardo. A superb mau- 
 soleum covers the remains of the Doges 
 Bertucci and Syvlrestro Valieri> grandfather 
 and grandson. Eleven days after the eleva- 
 tion of Bertucci to the rank of Doge, fol- 
 lowed that celebrated naval victory of the 
 Venetians over the Turks, at the entrance of
 
 159 
 
 the Dardanelles. In the piazza before the 
 church stands an equestrian statue in bronze, 
 of the celebrated Venetian Condottiere Bar- 
 tolomeo Coiloneo da Bergamo. 
 
 Contemplating the stern aspect of this war- 
 like figure, and in whose frown the thunders 
 of battle seem collected, it brought to my 
 mind those periods of rude commotion of 
 the republick, which calling into activi- 
 ty the higher virtues, and engaging the 
 passions in the pursuit of glory, gave 
 them a direction connected with national 
 honour, and favourable to the publick good. 
 How admirable in this case is the arrange- 
 ment of nature, which connects the love of 
 fame in individuals with publick gran- 
 deur, and how worthy of imitation are her 
 designs, which in all cases where they are 
 not perverted by the folly of man, connect 
 the well being of the citizen with the pros- 
 perity of the state. 
 
 The Venetians appear to have known bet- 
 ter, than any other people, the value of 
 those important political junctures, which 
 gave birth to great civil and military virtues. 
 The chief magistracy not residing in any parti-
 
 160 
 
 cular family, each Doge was solicitous, by 
 leaving behind him some conspicuous monu- 
 ment of virtue and talents, to ennoble and illus- 
 trate his posterity. Each sovereign of this re- 
 publick, was anxious to crowd into the com- 
 pass of one short reign, as much glory as is ge- 
 nerally found diffused throughout a whole suc- 
 cession of hereditary princes. Nor is it to be 
 wondered at, that this people, now so sunk in 
 degeneracy, should formerly under such a go- 
 vernment as has been described, have filled 
 Europe with the fame of their exploits, and 
 have left so many proud monuments of nation- 
 al magnificence. But that strength and splen- 
 dour cannot be permanent and solid, which de- 
 pends for support on the genius of an indivi- 
 dual prince. The republick of Venice held 
 its conquests by a slender tenure, for the acqui- 
 sitions of power made during the reign of a vi- 
 gorous and politick chief, might be surrender- 
 ed under a weak successor, or wrested from a 
 hand too feeble to defend them. Even in the 
 meridian of her splendour, her political great- 
 ness was exposed to that fluctuation and incon- 
 stancy inherent in the constitution of her go- 
 vernment. — Had she possessed within her own 
 bosom a salient and living spring of vigorous ac- 
 tion, or to speak without a figure, had her go-
 
 161 
 
 vernment been more popular, and had there ex- 
 isted a suitable and permanent organ, to col- 
 lect the publick sentiment, and to carry into ef- 
 fect the people's will, Venice might have been 
 figuring still in the politicks of Europe. 
 
 In the gov eminent of a great and enlighten- 
 ed people, the first magistrate ought to be no 
 more than an instrument for carrvinsr into ef- 
 feet those tendencies to power and refinement, 
 which exist in every well organized state, and 
 to which the first impulse is given by publick 
 interests, and publick opinion. The splendour 
 thrown around a state, by the talents and vir- 
 tues of a single individual, must sink into the 
 same grave with its creator; but one spirit 
 and one system of policy may actuate a na- 
 tion for centuries, and the talents and energies 
 of a great people, are not limited by any law 
 of nature, to a term of years. " Whatever ad- 
 " vantages," says Burke, "are obtained by a 
 " state proceeding on these maxims, are lock- 
 " ed fast as in a sort of family settlement, grasp- 
 " ed as in a kind of mort main forever. By a 
 "constitutional policy, working after the pat- 
 " tern of nature, a people receives, holds, 
 "and transmits its government and its privi- 
 " leges, in the same manner as life and proper- 
 22
 
 162 
 
 " ty are transmitted. The institutions of poli- 
 " cy — the goods of fortune, are handed down 
 a through a succession of generations, in the 
 " same course and order. The political sys- 
 " tem is placed in a just correspondence and 
 " symmetry with the order of the world, and 
 " with the mode of existence decreed to a per- 
 " manent body, composed of transitory parts, 
 " wherein by the disposition of a stupendous 
 " wisdom, moulding together the great myste- 
 " rious incorporation of the human race, the 
 " whole at one time is never old or middle aged, 
 " or young, but in a condition of an unchange- 
 " able constancy, moves on through the varied 
 " tenor of perpetual decay, renovation and pro- 
 " gression."* 
 
 The Venetian government, whatever ex- 
 cellencies were mixed with it in its original 
 formation, declined by degrees into an igno- 
 ble oligarchy. The exclusion of the peo- 
 ple from the administration of the govern- 
 ment, was effectually secured to the nobles 
 
 * This is the language of Mr. Burke, in defending 
 the doctrine of the inheritable quality of the crown. 
 But it is much more applicable to the popular part of 
 the British constitution.
 
 163 
 
 by a policy, which retained the common 
 mind in a state of the lowest debasement. 
 Softened by pleasure, the people saw without 
 shame, their own frightful transformation in- 
 to a sensual herd, and Venice, in whose ar- 
 senal were forged those thunders, her trium- 
 phant navies hurled on the foes of Christen- 
 dom, Venice became converted by the same 
 Circean enchantment into an island of volup- 
 tuousness, — the seat of every vice in its 
 most refined and seductive form. 
 
 In contemplating the fall of a city once 
 so illustrious, we are naturaly filled with com- 
 passion, and we eagerly inquire if there are 
 no means left, by which she may yet be res- 
 cued from complete destruction ? To hear the 
 Venetians talk, you would suppose their de- 
 sires had no object, but the salvation of 
 their country. Their imaginations are kept 
 in a state of continual inflammation by the vi- 
 sion of the past, of which they are perpe- 
 tually reminded, by what remains, or by 
 what has vanished of their former glory. 
 But that elevation of soul, which despises 
 pleasure, which unites labour with zeal, and 
 which reaches its object by the dint of re. 
 gular and patient efforts, is a quality of mind
 
 164 
 
 to be found I fear at Venice only among a 
 very few. The Venetians, however, are a 
 lively and passionate people, and the occa- 
 sional flashes of eloquence and enthusiasm 
 which irradiate their conversation, encourages 
 a hope that under the auspices of a liberal 
 and active government, they might recover 
 those energies which have for so long a time 
 lain dormant, and which are not likely to 
 be "awakened in the stagnant gloom A of Aus- 
 trian despotism. 
 
 Among the class of Venetians the most 
 inimical to the reigning government, some 
 appeared to me to have adopted, as a mo- 
 del of their ideas of a republick, the wild 
 fancies of the school of Rousseau. Some 
 of them were men of powerful and culti- 
 vated talents, but with views so indistinct 
 and wild as to render it extremely doubtful, 
 whether their zeal was not rather the effect 
 of passion, than an enlightened attachment 
 to the cause of liberty. Though totally dis- 
 qualified themselves for the task of new- 
 modelling a state, they possessed, how- 
 ever, those dispositions and talents, which 
 would render them efficient instruments in 
 a powerful hand. The name of American
 
 165 
 
 was a passport to their attentions and civilities. 
 Their inquiries concerning our manners, laws 
 and government, although in some instances 
 evidently suggested by mistaken views and 
 visionary principles, shewed, however, that 
 they were not ignorant of the outline of our 
 political constitution. But when I described 
 more particularly to them, the perfect equa- 
 lity of ranks in this country, the happiness 
 and dignity of the mass of the people, this 
 statement of facts appeared to realize a form 
 of society, which they had hitherto contem- 
 plated only in vision, and which they had 
 been accustomed to hear the enemies of liber- 
 ty deny, as the creation of a heated fancy. 
 
 In witnessing this pure homage of the heart, 
 extorted by our free institutions, from a peo- 
 ple sunk into the depths of degeneracy, I un- 
 derstood better than ever the value of that 
 gift which providence has bestowed upon 
 the people of this country, the glorious fruits 
 of which, are now rapidly diffusing its spirit 
 over the new world, and even in Europe, where 
 despotism appears to have recovered her an- 
 cient rights, are vindicating the cause of liberty 
 upon the very theatre where recently it has been 
 so shamefully disgraced.
 
 166 
 
 It was late when we left the church of St. 
 Giovanni e Paolo. Silence and obscurity reigned 
 over the canals, but the narrow space above 
 our heads glowing with the saffron tints of even- 
 ing, was an evidence that twilight still illu- 
 minated the environs of Venice. The stroke 
 of the oar in the water and the cry of the gon- 
 doliere as he approached the corner of a canal, 
 were the only sounds that interrupted the pro- 
 found stillness. When we arrived at the grand 
 canal it was dark, a multitude of moving lights 
 appeared like meteors gliding and dancing over 
 the surface of the water. They were gondolas, 
 which being painted black, are not distinguish- 
 able at night, and therefore carry a small lamp 
 which appears to be guided by an invisible hand, 
 shooting like a star through the dark, with the 
 velocity of an arrow. 
 
 In sailing down this canal, which is bestrided 
 by the celebrated Rialto, the traveller beholds 
 on each hand those sumptuous palaces, where 
 the Venetian nobles sunk in the lap of plea- 
 sure, forgot their country and themseives. On 
 entering these scenes of patrician grandeur, 
 halls hung round with faded tapestry, — de- 
 faced pictures, — hangings of splendid damask 
 — gilded chairs and sophas, mutilated and
 
 167 
 
 enveloped in dust and cobwebs, attest the former 
 splendour and opulence of a family now per- 
 haps extinct, or forced to perform the inglo- 
 rious office of parasites at the board of some 
 plebeian lord.* Their superb vestibules and 
 staircaises polluted with filth, and exhaling the 
 most offensive odours, are the more remarkable, 
 as the visitor contrasts them in imagination 
 with the voluptuous and delicate race of beings 
 who formerly inhabited them, who once repos- 
 ing here in all the langours of luxury, would 
 have fainted in the perfumed air of the east, 
 and 
 
 Died of a rose, in aromatick pain. 
 
 Some of these palaces are, however, exceptions 
 to the description which in general character- 
 
 * The number of indigent persons in Venice cal- 
 ling themselves noble, is noticed by almost every tra- 
 veller. I have been repeatedly stopped by genteel 
 looking persons in the place of St. Mark, calling them- 
 selves poveri nobili, who received with thankfulness 
 the most trifling gratuity. In passing through the 
 streets and publick squares, my attention has been fre- 
 quently arrested by decent females, their faces con- 
 cealed by a veil and kneeling for hours together. All 
 these, as my guide informed me, were povere nobile ver.e- 
 ziane.
 
 168 
 
 izes the mansions of the Venetian nobility, 
 whose extensive suites of apartments ele- 
 gantly decorated, and attended by a number 
 of servants in rich liveries, are evidence of 
 a family still enjoying all the splendid com- 
 forts of opulence. In the Grimani and Man- 
 frini palaces, for instance, the eye is charmed 
 not only with the choicest beauties of pain- 
 ting and sculpture, but pleased with the neat- 
 ness, the elegance and order apparent in the 
 ceconomy of the whole establishment. 
 
 But it is chiefly with the view of indulg- 
 ing the higher pleasures of taste and imagi- 
 nation, that the traveller enters these abodes 
 of wealth. They are almost constantly open 
 to the visits of the stranger, and their pro- 
 prietors, it would appear, are vain of that 
 admiration excited in the minds of foreign- 
 ers, by this display of their treasures of art. 
 This is a sort of ostentation, which to say 
 the least in commendation of, is innocent. 
 But it is worthy of far more than negative 
 praise. Pictures and statues which derive 
 their value from the pleasure they afford to 
 a cultivated mind, are a noble species of 
 wealth, and the opulence expended in accu- 
 mulating these monumeuts of genius, is a
 
 169 
 
 great general fund for supplying the means 
 of enlightening the publick taste, enlarging 
 the human intellect, and multiplying the 
 sources of those enjoyments, which, to an 
 exalted mind, are among the most precious 
 fruits, which the social state yields in its 
 highest and most improved form. 
 
 The works of the Marquis of Canova at 
 the palace of Obizzi, are particularly deser- 
 ving of attention. Here the aerial form of 
 his Hebe appears to have lighted from some 
 superiour orb upon this earth, which she 
 hardly seems to touch. The beholder natu- 
 rally asks with astonishment, how so much 
 softness and beauty, how such grace of mo- 
 tion could be communicated to a material so 
 stubborn and inflexible, as that on which 
 the artist was obliged to operate. Here the 
 story of the death of Socrates is told in mar- 
 ble, with an exactitude and pathos, which 
 nearly equals the affecting narrative of his 
 eloquent disciple. One of Davide's finest 
 historical pieces represents Socrates, discour- 
 sing with his disciples on the immortality 
 of the soul, at the moment he is receiving 
 the fatal cup. The executioner in deliver- 
 ing it, averts his head, and the sage with a 
 23 
 
 .
 
 i70 
 
 countenance undisturbed by emotion, or with- 
 out discontinuing his discourse, extends his 
 arm to receive it. The serenity and composure 
 of their master's venerable form, are admirably 
 contrasted with the grief expressed in the atti- 
 tude and countenances of the disciples. But 
 Canova has here chosen for his subject, that 
 affecting scene which may be supposed to 
 have taken place, alter Criton had closed 
 the eyes of his master. After dwelling on the 
 beauties of these affecting compositions, my 
 attention was diverted to a piece the subject 
 of which was the sons of Alcinous dancing 
 before Ulysses. It presented a group of the 
 most airy and voluptuous forms, and if the 
 sublime example of fortitude, exhibited in the 
 prison of Socrates, was calculated to inspire 
 virtuous sentiments, and to elevate and ennoble 
 the character, the scene exhibited in the court 
 of Mcinous appeared to me calculated to sug- 
 gest ideas of an opposite tendency. 
 
 In the palace Barbarigo, is an unfinished 
 picture of St. Sebastian — the last of Titian's 
 works ! This final effort of a genius which has 
 adorned the churches and palaces of Venice, 
 with so many splendid monuments of its crea- 
 tive power, is regarded by the Venetians with 
 veneration and affection.
 
 171 
 
 In the apartments of this palace, the eye 
 wanders over a profusion of pictures, and the 
 transported beholder finds himself in another re- 
 gion of existence, surrounded by landscapes 
 fairer than those of nature, and human forms 
 of higher bloom and nobler grace than any he 
 has ever beheld. But when to the mere beau- 
 ty of external form and colours, attractions of 
 a moral kind are superadded, and the pleasures 
 of the imagination are blended with those of 
 the heart, the higher principles of our nature 
 are touched and invigorated at the same time, 
 that the pleasures of vision alone, appear to be 
 the object of the artist. Hence the influence 
 which the higher efforts of painting have, in 
 forming the moral character of a people, and 
 hence the sublime gratifications which this art 
 affords to a thoughtful and contemplative mind. 
 Who, for instance, endued with a disposition of 
 this kind, can contemplate Titian's Magdalene, 
 and not see painted in her features that profound 
 grief which is the fruit of ungovernable passions 
 in a mind originally pure and exalted ? Yet 
 while the heart feels the sublime moral of the 
 picture, the eye dwells enchanted on the per- 
 sonal attractions of the fair penitent — the vo- 
 luptuous swell of her bosom heaving with re- 
 pentant sighs — her countenance pale with sor-
 
 172 
 
 row, yet in all the dejection of grief more 
 dangerously beautiful, than when animated with 
 pleasure, and practising the Syren smile of 
 seduction. 
 
 Titian's Prometheus, is an idea worthy of 
 the author of the Inferno. Prometheus chained 
 to a rock with his feet in the air, and his head 
 down, writhing with agony, is an image of in- 
 fernal despair, conceived with as much strength 
 of imagination as any which enters into the ter- 
 rifick visions of Dante. 
 
 The most vigorous and astonishing essays of 
 Tintoretto 's pencil, are displayed in the gal- 
 leries and apartments of the ' confraternity of 
 St. Boch. Tintoretto, although an artist less 
 chaste and noble in his conceptions than Titian, 
 possessed, however, an adventurous genius, 
 which redeemed its offences against taste, by 
 dazzling and superlative beauties. The pic- 
 tures in this collection exhibit some of the 
 most striking excellencies and defects of this 
 master. In his massacre of the Innocents, the 
 rules of perspective are violated ; it is a scene 
 of horrour without dignity. But his great pic- 
 ture of the passion in the sacristy, is one of 
 those miracles of art, which confounds criti-
 
 173 
 
 cism, and is a signal instance of the force of 
 genius in striking the judgment blind, by 
 beauties of an overpowering lustre. 
 
 The Venetians say, that Napoleon contem- 
 plated enriching the gallery of the Louvre 
 with this picture, but some difficulties occuring 
 in the removal of it, his intention was ne- 
 ver carried into effect. The addition of this 
 masterpiece would undoubtedly have sup- 
 plied an important defect in the Louvre, which 
 contained no work of this master strongly mark- 
 ed with the characteristick excellencies and 
 defects of his style. 
 
 The magnificent staircase, here, by PaUa- 
 dio, can scarcely fail to draw the attention. It 
 is ornamented on the left with a painting by 
 Antonio JVeri. The ideas of the artist are 
 shaded with an allegorical veil, presenting to 
 the eye a confused assemblage of figures. 
 It is ennobled by none of the graces of 
 Titian, nor by any of the striking or fulminating 
 beauties of Tintoretto's pencil ; but it is 
 peopled with a variety of figures, over which 
 is diffused a rich variety of sombre and bril- 
 liant tints. The genius of pestilence, carry- 
 ing on her shoulders a skeleton, does not
 
 174 
 
 create in the mind that emotion of sublime hor- 
 rour, which is produced by the contortions 
 of Prometheus, or by the martyrdom of St. Pe- 
 ter, but it leads us to conjecture, what traits 
 of grandeur an artist of taste and genius 
 would have bestowed on this terrible per- 
 sonification. 
 
 In a city so rich in genuine specimens 
 of the arts, we might expect to find a pro- 
 portionable degree of zeal and industry evin- 
 ced in their cultivation. Yet notwithstanding 
 the multitude of objects which Venice con- 
 tains, to stimulate the genius and to culti- 
 vate the taste of the artist, painting and 
 sculpture maintain here only a feeble and 
 languid existence. Napoleon protected and 
 encouraged them wherever they came with- 
 in the sphere of his influence. A system 
 of publick instruction founded on true re- 
 publican principles, libraries and academies 
 of art open to all ranks, affording to the 
 most indigent member of society the means 
 of liberal improvement, were calculated to 
 awaken in the mass of the people the dor- 
 mant energies of the mind. Now, that he 
 no longer possesses those formidable means 
 of annoyance, which fortune and valour pla-
 
 175 
 
 ced within his grasp, there can be no he- 
 resy, at least there can be no danger, in the 
 doctrine, which admits the regenerating in- 
 fluence of his government in those countries, 
 where it found human nature in a state of 
 debasement. The disappearance of his bust 
 from its pedestal, in the publick halls of 
 painting and sculpture at Venice, was cal- 
 culated to inspire with regret a lover of the 
 fine arts, and to rouse in the mind of the 
 politician a train of moral reflections, connected 
 with the eventful period, during which Eu- 
 rope felt all the salutary and all the noxious 
 influences of his dominion — and to the mo- 
 ralist it might suggest a striking illustration 
 of the fugitive and perishable nature of hu- 
 man grandeur, if the fortunes of any indi- 
 vidual, however conspicuous, was of im- 
 portance enough to draw the attention, in a 
 revolution affecting deeply the dearest inte- 
 rests of human nature. 
 
 In the academy of the arts, I found a num- 
 ber of students engaged in various academical 
 exercises. Some with crayons in their hands 
 sat before the Apollo Belvidere, copying that 
 divine figure — some were drawing the features 
 and head of the Laocoon, some modelling sta-
 
 176 
 
 tues in clay, and exercising the first efforts of 
 youthful invention. But where was this race 
 of artists to find the means of subsistence ? was 
 the question. A sculptor and painter must 
 have churches and palaces to adorn, and those 
 of Venice are already filled with the produc- 
 tions of a former age, more propitious than 
 the present to the culture of the arts — nor doe s 
 there appear to exist any disposition in the pre- 
 sent government, to augment the city with new 
 edifices, or in any way to beautify and enlarge 
 it. Such a view, perhaps, may not much damp 
 the ardour of a juvenile passion for distinction, 
 but after experience and reflection begin to cor- 
 rect the illusions of early enthusiasm, and a 
 prospect presents itself to the artist, different 
 from what the sanguine hopes of youth had 
 pictured, the gloom of disappointment acting 
 upon a quick sensibility and a warm imagina- 
 tion, must tend to extinguish the sources of that 
 creative fire, upon which the success of genius 
 in all its higher efforts , so much depends, j 
 saw here many an ingenuous youth, who was 
 destined to experience a fortune similar to 
 this — many a tender flower doomed to be 
 crushed by the rude hand of adversity.
 
 177 
 
 I was conducted through a gallery in which 
 were lodged the paintings which had recently 
 returned from Paris. The first piece that pre- 
 sented itself, was the martyrdom of St. Peter, 
 by Titian, which had been taken from the 
 church of St, Giovanni e Paolo. St. Peter 
 falls, by the arm of an assassin. The deed 
 is perpetrated amidst the gloomy shades 
 of a thick forest ; his companion flies, and St. 
 Peter in the moment of expiration raises his 
 eyes and beholds above angels hovering with 
 palms, and heaven opening to receive him. 
 
 The next piece was Paulo Veronese's Jupiter 
 and Europa. This picture before its removal to 
 Paris, adorned the hall of the Anti Collegio, 
 in the ducal palace. The story of Jupiter and 
 Europa which is told with so much grace by 
 Ovid, is heightened with additional charms by 
 the pencil of Paul Veronese. The countenance 
 and form of Europa decked with chaplets and 
 garlands, are transcendantly lovely. A beautiful 
 blush overspreads her cheek ; she has ventured 
 to press the back of her lover, who under the 
 form of a white bull is couched on the grass, 
 and has turned his head to lick the hand of his 
 fair mistress. 
 
 24
 
 178 
 
 Gaudet amans ; et dum veniat sperata voluptas, 
 Oscula dat manibus. 
 
 Entering then a spacious saloon, I saw the 
 painting of the marriage feast at Cana, by the 
 same master. This wonderful performance be- 
 fore its removal to the musee imperiale at Paris, 
 hung in the refectory of the Benedictines in the 
 island of St. Giorgio. In this painting are to be 
 found united, all the defects and excellencies of 
 Paul Veronese's style. A gallery separating the 
 two wings of a vast edifice, opens to view 
 one of the most brilliant aerial perspectives, that 
 can possibly be imagined. A sky of the purest 
 blue, in which the light clouds seem to float, 
 an air that appears to play around every ob- 
 ject, are characteristical beauties, which indicate 
 the hand of Paul Veronese. The two wings 
 are connected by a ballustrade, along which are 
 crowds of spectators gazing upon the pomp of 
 this sumptuous entertainment. The architec- 
 ture of the edifice is noble, but the anachro- 
 nism of a gothick tower displeases. 
 
 The miracle which is the ubject of this paint « 
 ing, does not appear to draw the attention, nor to 
 excite the surprise of any of the persons present-
 
 179 
 
 The" guests 'appear to be intent on merely the 
 pleasures of the banquet. The wonderful 
 transformation which is here operated by the 
 hand of omnipotence, and which should have 
 been made the leading and striking incident 
 in this scene, is lost amidst a variety of 
 insignificant details, and that unity and 
 simplicity upon which the sublime effect of 
 painting so much depends, is sacrificed to 
 that ambition of petty ornament, and that 
 ostentation of his intellectual treasures, which 
 formed the leading feature of the mind of 
 Paul Veronese, A band of musicians play- 
 ing a concerto, groups of spectators, atten- 
 dants, slaves, , dogs, a parrot, a negro page, 
 occupy the foreground. The bride is beauti- 
 ful and attired in a style of simple elegance. 
 The dress of the bridegroom is rich and mag- 
 nificent. On the left are three beautiful wo- 
 men, rendered more strikingly lovely by 
 their proximity to harsh and swarthy faces, 
 . i with black beards. » Over this motley scene 
 filled with objects, all animated by the vivi- 
 fying touch of genius, are diffused those res- 
 plendent tints, • to which nothing correspon- 
 ding exists except in the creations of poe- 
 tick fancv. 
 
 :>'■:
 
 180 
 
 Yet this picture although the production of a 
 glowing and prolifick imagination, contains such 
 striking incongruities, and such bold violations 
 of propriety, as all its beauties can scarcely re- 
 deem. The edifice in which the scene passes, 
 is a palace, and together with the splendid 
 dresses of the company, bespeaks a certain de- 
 gree of opulence in the master of the feast, which 
 we are not authorized to infer from the narra- 
 tive of the evangelist. It is not the marriage 
 festival of a simple citizen of Gallilee, who had 
 not provided a sufficient stock of wine for his 
 guests, but the sumptuous banquet of a prince 
 where every thing is in a style of costly profu- 
 sion. 
 
 I have been the more particular in describing 
 this picture, as it may be considered assem- 
 bling in one view all the defects and beau- 
 ties of the Venetian school of painting, and 
 may serve to explain more fully some remarks 
 I shall have occasion to make hereafter, 
 on the master-pieces of the Roman and Tuscan 
 artists. 
 
 In consequence of the closeness with which 
 Venice is built, its narrow lanes and canals are 
 rarely visited by the sun-shine. This has been
 
 181 
 
 assigned as a cause of the fresh complexions 
 of the Venetian women. Like plants, that never 
 suffer exposure to the light, they are not im- 
 pressed with any of those permanent shades of 
 colour, which are produced by the action of 
 the solar rays upon the skin. A moisture, how- 
 ever, which is never exhaled, renders the streets 
 continually filthy, and creates along the surface 
 of its canals, a sensation of dampness. Fa- 
 tigued by the dreary and lonely vistas of canals, 
 the traveller at length becomes impatient to en- 
 joy a prospect more expanded, and to breathe 
 an atmosphere more pure. He beholds the 
 Adriatick, immediately around Venice, over- 
 spread with a multitude of verdant isles adorn- 
 ed with villas and churches, and he is anxious 
 to extend the circle of his rambles. 
 
 His first excursion is generally to the island 
 of Murano, famous for its manufactories of 
 looking-glasses afficinis vitrariis celeberrima. 
 But, however great an object of curiosity 
 these might have been formerly, they at pre- 
 sent can have no noveltv for one, who has vi- 
 sited the extensive glass-houses of France 
 and England. Besides the intense fires and 
 sooty atmosphere of these places, and the 
 dismal and blackened visages of the workmen.
 
 182 
 
 continually exposed to their influence, have 
 rather a sad than exhilirating effect upon the 
 mind. He quits the Murano,- and visits in 
 succession, the beautiful Isles which appear 
 to float upon the expanse of water around 
 him, whose smooth and polished surface re- 
 flects their gay banks, overhung with tall cy- 
 presses and poplars. Many of these are the 
 seats of monastick solitude, where super- 
 stition still broods over her saints and re- 
 licks, and many of them were formerly the 
 delicious scenes of aristocratick luxury. 
 
 The motion of the gondola, like that of a 
 cradle, diffuses a langour over the senses 
 and disposes the mind to reverie. This dis- 
 position is naturally encouraged by the beau- 
 ty of the climate, the magical appearance of 
 Venice, and the enchanting scenery that sur- 
 rounds it. Protected from the direct rays of 
 the sun, and reposing upon cushions of 
 morocco, the traveller beholds .through the 
 lateral windows of his bark, a "magnificent 
 expanse of water spotted with gay islands. 
 Its shores adorned with the grand scenery 
 cf the mount tins of Ficenza, and the culti- 
 vated and smiling plains of Lombardy. He 
 sees the embouchure of the JSrenta, which 

 
 ' 
 
 183 
 
 •ashing the walls of Padua, and linger- 
 WF* on its way to behold many a stately palace 
 and delightful garden, diffuses itself over this 
 extensive plain of water. On the other side, 
 he admires Venice, like a city separated from 
 the continent, and transplanted with all her 
 domes and towers amidst the waves.. 
 
 He dwells upon the character of its pre- 
 sent population devoted to pleasure, and speak- 
 ing a language as musical as the accents of 
 poetry. In Venice we may still remark the 
 remains of that unhappy policy, which stu- 
 died to debauch the people by pleasure, and 
 lull that publick vigilance without which no 
 republick can long exist. The midnight di- 
 versions of St. Mark's, the splendour of the 
 opera, the magnificence of the Bucentaur, 
 employed in celebrating the nuptials of the 
 Doge and the Adriatick, are all monuments of 
 this unhappy policy. But as the resources 
 of the state declined, the means of amu- 
 sing and gratifying the people failed with them. 
 Wretches, with famine in their look, are now 
 seen soliciting charity among the gay circles 
 of St. Mark. Its carnival, which formerly 
 drew crowds from different parts of Europe, 
 has lost its attractive brilliancy, and the Bu-
 
 184 
 
 aentaur, despoiled of its decorations, Hes rot- 
 ting in the arsenal.* Near Murano is the 
 island of St. Nicolas di JYido, where the Doge 
 heard mass, before the august celebration of 
 his marriage with the sea, then mounted in 
 his superb galley, attended by numberless les- 
 ser barges, moved on in solemn pomp, and 
 sailing on a tranquil sea hi sight of Venice 
 and all her picturesque isles, afforded to the 
 spectators one of the most splendid pageants, 
 that can be conceived. 
 
 Musick appears still to be the delight and 
 solace of the Venetians. If we except the 
 opera of St. Carlo at Naples, and that of La 
 Scala at Milan, there is no part of Italy where 
 this publick amusement is more brilliant than 
 at Venice. Its great theatre, the Femce, is 
 open during the carnival and the opera, the 
 ballet, and the masquerade following in suc- 
 cession, allow through the night no pause in 
 the rapid course of dissipation. The theatres 
 
 * In my visit to the Arsenal, I inquired after the 
 B (centaur, bat my cicerone told me it was in a misera- 
 ble state of delapidation, and conducted me to see two 
 barges superbly gilt and decorated, once the property 
 of Napoleon, now in the possession of the Emperour 
 of Austria.
 
 185 
 
 of St, Luca and St. Benedetto daring the 
 spring and summer months, afford to the ama- 
 teur a source of exquisite enjoyment. During 
 my stay at Venice, the praises of Veluti were 
 in the mouth of every person. This young 
 Soprano had succeeded to the popularity of 
 Marchese. Both sexes concurred in bestow- 
 ing upon his musical powers, every epithet 
 of excellence, but what was a little surpri- 
 sing, the ladies not content with extolling the 
 charms of his voice, praised the grace and 
 gentility of his person. The mutilated class 
 of beings to which Veluti belongs, are in ge- 
 ral characterized by those outward marks of 
 physical imbecility and deformity, by which 
 nature commonly manifests her displeasure 
 at every contravention of her laws. He, how- 
 ever, is an exception to this general fact. 
 His form though slender and his appearance 
 juvenile, are rather graceful than otherwise. 
 I know not what effect Veluti would have pro- 
 duced in England or America, but the agita- 
 tion, the enthusiasm and phrenzy he excit- 
 ed in the Venetian theatres, exhibited a signa 
 instance of power over human passions and 
 feelings, which might well have inspired any ar- 
 tist with a proud consciousness of superiority. 
 
 25
 
 The plaudits of a Venetian audience are indi- 
 cative of an extravagance of enthusiasm, which 
 I do not recollect ever to have seen displayed 
 in any of the French or English theatres. 
 This was the case at the performances of the 
 celebrated Paganinu* The astonishing exe- 
 cution of this unrivalled artist extorted such 
 bursts of applause, as would in any other coun- 
 try have passed for the ravings of insanity. 
 During some part of the performance, the si- 
 
 ■ 
 * Paganini executed the most difficult and exqui- 
 site pieces of musick with astonishing effect, upon a 
 violin with only a single string. His uncommon at- 
 tainments in musick were said to have been the effect 
 of a long imprisonment, as he is represented to have 
 been originally incapable of study or application* 
 Having, as it was said, in a fit of jealousy assassinated 
 his mistress, he was condemned to suffer the punish- 
 ment of death. But this penalty being commuted for 
 that of perpetual imprisonment, he devoted himself 
 exclusively to his violin, and in the course of the first 
 six years of his confinement, attained a skill on 
 that instrument almost miraculous. He exhibited in 
 the presence of many of the crowned heads of Europe, 
 who all interested themselves in his behalf, and finally 
 obtained his release. He now travels from one ex- 
 tremity of Italy to the other, assembling wherever he 
 exhibits, a numerous audience, and squandering the 
 tribute his tafents commands with the same rapidity 
 with which he collects it.
 
 187 
 
 lence was so profound that the faintest noise 
 would have been easily perceptible. His au- 
 dience seemed to hold their breath, lest a 
 single note should escape them, but the loud 
 and deafening cries of bravissimo Paganim, ! 
 mixed with such exclamations as these, Scmgue 
 della Madonna ! e uno diavolo ! passionately voci- 
 ferated and accompanied with a corresponding 
 extravagance of gesticulation, were expressive 
 of those delirious feelings of which only the 
 most ardent and sensitive natures are suscep- 
 tible. 
 
 I have observed in the countenances of the 
 lower orders of the people at Venice, marks 
 of the same warmth and liveliness of feeling 
 whenever their passions were seriously engaged 
 by a story, related in an affecting manner by 
 one of their orators in the place of St. Mark. 
 Nor did it seem more difficult to inspire them 
 with emotions of an opposite kind. They as 
 readily yield to gay impressions, and were 
 convulsed with laughter by the merriment of 
 Polichenello and Harlequin. Nothing can be 
 conceived more furious than the looks, voice 
 and gestures of two gondolieres disputing. 
 They liberally bestow upon each other every 
 vilifying epithet. Yet blows are unusual. This
 
 188 
 
 would lead us to infer a cowardly disposition 
 in these people, if we did not know that 
 among them a blow is the last indignity, an 
 insult never to be forgiven, and for which there 
 is no atonement but blood. Yet the manners 
 of the gondoliere are not rough, they are ge- 
 nerally sprightly and good humoured, and the 
 soft inflexions and harmonious tones of their 
 language, appear to be prompted by a cha- 
 racter docile and humane. 
 
 The Venetian dialect, although not suited 
 to grave and dignified composition, possesses 
 a vivacity and sweetness well calculated to give 
 softness to poetry, and to lend sprightliness 
 and grace to comick dialogue. It is chiefly 
 during the carnival that all its charms are deve- 
 loped. The talent for repartee which is then 
 provoked, and the unrestrained freedom of dia- 
 logue, elicits from the maskers flashes of mer- 
 riment, and unlooked for flights of unpreme- 
 ditated eloquence. 
 
 As there exists at Venice no Hyde Park, 
 no Champ Elisees, even no streets, there can 
 of course be no room for the display of bril- 
 liant equipages, no field for the adventurous 
 exploits of the charioteer and the equestrian*
 
 189 
 
 But the elegants of fashion, dressed like gondo- 
 liere, with rose-coloured sashes, display their 
 skill in managing the gondola before a numerous 
 concourse of all ranks of people on the quay. 
 The grace and address with which they propel 
 the gondola through the water, and the sud- 
 denness with which they stop it in its full ca- 
 reer, are regarded with admiration by crowds 
 of spectators. 
 
 The favourite promenade of the Venetians 
 extends on the left of the Piazzeta, along the 
 quay bordering the Adriatick. It was con- 
 tinued by the French, who filled up a ca- 
 nal and formed a street connected by means 
 of a draw-bridge with an island, laid out in 
 walks and planted with trees. It is fortified 
 against the sea by a solid work of masonry. 
 From this place is seen one of the gayest 
 views of Venice. Directly opposite lies the 
 island of St. Georgio, and the dome and tower 
 of its magnificent church rising over the de- 
 licious garden of the Benedictins — the point 
 of the Dogana* forming one side of the en- 
 trance of the grand canal, and adorned with 
 a beautiful marble edifice by Palladh — the mint 
 — the facade of the Ducal palace, behind which 
 rise the five domes of St. Mark's church) 
 *" Custom house.
 
 190 
 
 form all together such a scene of magnificence, 
 as cannot readily be imagined. From my last 
 visit to this place I returned along the quay, 
 that is washed by the Adriatick. When I ar- 
 rived at the piazza it was dark, and I paused for 
 a moment to muse on the scenes about me. 
 My imagination was led back to the period of 
 time, when the sea occupied the place on 
 which I stood, and exulted in the triumphant 
 assurance with which art has here dared to 
 advance her structures into the deep. Two 
 massive columns of granite, one bearing on 
 its summit the lion of St. Mark, the other 
 the statue of St. Theodore, stand like gi- 
 gantick centinels to guard this scene of en- 
 chantment from the rage of the elements. Be- 
 neath my feet lay the dungeons of the inqui- 
 sition, and I reflected how many light hearts, 
 free and unconfined as the prospect of the 
 sea before it, had tripped over the pavement 
 of this gay piazza, heedless of the captive 
 beneath, pining in solitude and darkness. I 
 felt all the horrours of slavery exemplified 
 in these victims of a policy, at which huma- 
 nity shudders. Yet the government of Ve- 
 nice wore the semblance of a republick. It 
 was a temple outwardly consecrated to the 
 worship of liberty, dressed in the trophies of
 
 arms, and of arts, and decorated with the splen- 
 did monuments of valour and of genius, but 
 in its interiour recesses, in its " holy of ho- 
 lies," despotism celebrated her horrid myste- 
 ries. "Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still 
 " slavery, still thou art a bitter draught." 
 
 The incessant roll of carriages, which, 
 throughout the night, fatigues the ear in Lon- 
 don and in Paris, is a species of annoyance 
 unknown in Venice. Every thing appears 
 to sleep as tranquil as the sea around it, 
 but under this appearance of profound slum- 
 ber, vice and pleasure are awake, and like 
 Comus and his band, are invoking the 
 genius of darkness to thicken around them 
 the shades of night. 
 
 Come let us our rites begin, 
 
 'Tis only day-light that makes sin, 
 
 Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 
 
 A conspicuous object at Venice is her 
 Arsenal. Having seen her palaces, her churches 
 and her publick resorts of pleasure, the tra- 
 veller must be desirous of surveying the 
 vestiges of her naval glory, of which this 
 arsenal is a splendid though faded monument.
 
 192 
 
 It is nearly three miles in circumference and 
 is surrounded with a high wall, surmounted with 
 towers at convenient distances for centinels. Its 
 great entrance is ornamented in a style of suita- 
 ble magnificence. Before it are stationed two 
 lions, trophies, as an inscription imports, of the 
 exploits of Venetian valour at Athens. These 
 silent and motionless centinels, in whose posture 
 strength and tranquillity combined, are admira- 
 bly figured, are appropriately placed before this 
 ancient fortress of the Venetian power. 
 
 The magnificence of its exteriour, however, 
 ill consorts with the neglect and disorder ap- 
 parent upon entering it. Huge piles of tim- 
 ber thrown down and carelessly dispersed, ves- 
 sels unfinished and in an incipient state of 
 decay, exhalations of stagnant water, frigates 
 and seventy fours dismantled and laid up in 
 ordnary, composed a scene of headlong 
 and frightful ruin. But in its repositories of 
 small arms, the eye is gratified by the symme- 
 trical display of banners aud trophies intermixed 
 with bayonets, cutlasses, pistols and carabines, 
 artificially disposed on the walls in beautiful 
 and dazzling figures, representing suns, pyra- 
 mids and columns. Here are many curious 
 specimens of mechanical ingenuity, displayed
 
 193 
 
 in attempts to accelerate and facilitate the ope- 
 rations of loading and firing, fruits of that 
 horrid industry with which man has tortured 
 his invention, for new modes of rendering 
 the work of death more expeditious and com- 
 prehensive. Some specimens also of the an- 
 cient fire arms, used in the early naval com- 
 bats of the Venetians, among which is a mor- 
 tar for throwing bombs constructed of lea- 
 ther ! and a frightful display of weapons wrest- 
 ed from the hands of the Turks, by the 
 conquering Venetians. 
 
 To a person, who has never seen the great 
 naval depots of France and England, this ar- 
 senal must suggest the idea of a naval power 
 once truly grand. The extent of space it 
 covers, the bold and masterly skilll displayed 
 in its construction, its capacious magazines 
 for naval stores, its foundries for cannon, its 
 extensive rope-walks, its vast and lofty work- 
 shops roofed with tile, and furnished with 
 every convenience for building and launching 
 ships, are indisputable traces of a great ma- 
 ritime people. 
 
 Upon these defaced ruins of a once pow- 
 erful marine, Buonaparte intended the erection 
 
 26
 
 194 
 
 of a formidable naval force in the Adriatick. 
 From the great collection here of timber 
 and spars, of cannon, — from the large stock 
 of raw materials laid up for the fabrication 
 of ropes and cordage, — from the number of 
 seventy-fours and frigates of which he had 
 laid the foundation, there can be no doubt 
 that he contemplated at some future day the 
 resuscitation of Venice. 
 
 But all these mighty preparations for ma- 
 ritime war appeared to have suffered the fate 
 of a city, described in an Arabian tale, where 
 the inhabitants were all suddenly transform- 
 ed into stone. An axe lay rusting on the 
 ground, that seemed to have fallen from 
 the hands of the workman, in the act of 
 hewing a fallen cypress, destined "to be 
 the mast of some great admiral." A saw 
 which appeared to have been indefatigably 
 plyed, rested immoveable in its place, ham- 
 mers lay scattered about that had been used 
 in driving ship-bolts, which half projected 
 from the sides of an unfinished seventy-four. 
 The genius of despotism had touched it with 
 its cold petrifick wand, and the melancholy 
 silence that reigned over the scene was only 
 augmented by the consideration, that it had
 
 195 
 
 formerly resounded with the "busy hum of 
 men." 
 
 If Venice was bruised by the weight of 
 French oppression, her wounds have not been 
 healed by the mild and fostering government 
 of Austria. The Corinthian Hoses have in- 
 deed been restored with much pomp to the 
 church of St. Mark, and the winged lion that 
 long adorned the invalides at Paris, now looks 
 from its granite column like the tutelary ge- 
 nius of Venice, over the expanse of the 
 Adriatick. The masterpieces of Titian and 
 Paul Veronese, have been recovered from the 
 hands of the spoiler, but her artists no lon- 
 ger called to adorn palaces, and to beautify 
 the edifices of St. Mark's place>* languish 
 
 * The church which stood between the Procuratie 
 Nuove and the Procuratie Fecchie, in the place of St. 
 Mark, and which so much injured its uniformity and 
 symmetry, was demolished by the French, and its place 
 supplied by the continuation of the buildings on each 
 side. It is also worthy of remark, that from what 
 they here left unfinished, it must have been their in- 
 tention to renew the whole facade of these palaces, 
 by a process similar to that by which the front of 
 the Louvre, ahd the palace of Versailles has been 
 renovated.
 
 196 
 
 in obscurity and want. The code Napoleon 
 has been banished from her halls of justice, 
 but its place has been supplied by the pan- 
 dects of Austria. The gens cfarmes who suc- 
 ceeded the sbiri of the state inquisition, have 
 been supplanted by a race of catch- poles 
 equally unamiable and savage.* Spies and 
 mouchards of the true German and Italian 
 breed, are still hired to mar the pleasures 
 of social converse,! and to hunt their game 
 through every publick and private assembly. 
 From all I could learn, the discontents of the 
 Venetians at present, are much greater than 
 they were in the time of the French. Emi- 
 grations have been frequent since the peace, 
 and many families finding themselves unable 
 to pay the taxes, have banished hemselves from 
 
 * During a long residence in France under the 
 late government, I have never had occasion to witness 
 in its gens d'armes such barbarity, as I have frequently 
 seen in the Austrian police guards. In dragging their 
 victims to the guard-house, they stiffled their remon- 
 strances with the most brutal insensibility, and if they 
 made the slightest resistance, unfeelingly struck them 
 on the back with the butt-ends of their muskets. 
 
 t What Tacitus calls the " ultimum in servitute ; 
 " adempto per inquisitiones et loquendi audiendique 
 '* commercio."
 
 197 
 
 the seat of their forefathers, and abandoned theii 
 splendid dwellings to decay. Besides, it is 
 not by trenching merely on the ordinary com- 
 forts of life, that a people may be rendered 
 unhappy. Many persons would more cheer- 
 fully submit to a reduction of their fortunes, 
 than to any control exercised over their fa- 
 vourite pleasures and inclinations. The late 
 military despotism of France interfered not 
 at all with the amusements of the people, 
 on the contrary it every where opened schools 
 of musick, of painting and sculpture, and 
 every artist of delight was enlisted in its 
 service. If Venice was despoiled of her 
 liberty, she was not robbed of her gaiety ; the 
 same power, which like a destroying angel 
 smote her, at the same time communicated 
 to her a force under which she suffered. 
 
 It is far from my intention to justify the ex- 
 ercise of lawless dominion in any instance. I 
 am not unacquainted with those abuses of pow- 
 er which have so justly been made a ground of 
 complaint against the late government of France. 
 I am no stranger to its system of domestick 
 oppression — its unfeeling policy — the contemp- 
 tuous disregard with which it trampled upon 
 the laws and institutions of other countries,
 
 198 
 
 wherever they impeded the course of its rest- 
 less ambition. I can readily understand what 
 ought to have been the influence on the feel- 
 ings of the Venetians, of the continual presence of 
 a powerful military force, ready to crush them, 
 if they dared to resist, and there is something 
 plausible in the argument that a government 
 animated solely by the spirit of conquest, should 
 be more likely to violate their social feelings and 
 prejudices, than one whose character appears 
 to be mild and pacifick. But I cannot adopt 
 this conclusion, in opposition to evidence bet- 
 ter calculated to command my assent, than any 
 inference from a gratuitous assumption. Either 
 their servitude was not real, or there was a wiz- 
 zard spell in the policy of their conqueror, that 
 endued it with the charms of liberty, and now 
 that the enchantment is dispelled, the vivacity 
 of the Venetians which luxuriated in the rays 
 of that delusive brilliancy, which played around 
 the late tyranny of France, languishes and 
 droops in the solid darkness of Austrian oppres- 
 sion. 
 
 To a person who observes its total indiffer- 
 ence, with regard to every thing connected with 
 the restoration and improvement of Venice, it 
 would appear, that the present government had
 
 199 
 
 faint hopes of retaining its annexations in Italy, 
 and that it was in haste to enrich itself during 
 the term of possession. No measure has been 
 adopted by it, to secure the allegiance of this 
 conquered people, by emulating the policy of 
 the late government, in embellishing and repair- 
 ing those great publick establishments endeared 
 to the people, by an affectionate remembrance 
 of their former greatness, or in laying the foun- 
 dations of new ones. The works which have 
 been so auspiciously begun under the late reign, 
 remain exactly in the same state in which they 
 were left, and if the policy of her present rulers 
 endures, Venice in the course of a few years 
 must be converted, like Babylon, into pools of 
 stagnant water, or like Tyre be worn away by 
 the fluctuation of the sea. Every wave that 
 washes the superb mole of St. Mark, must 
 now accelerate her declension. Her harbour 
 requires to be annually deepened, in order 
 to prevent the formation of Lagune* This 
 cannot be done without labour and expense. 
 This circumstance alone, must make her de- 
 cline rapidly under any government that has no 
 solicitude for her prosperity, and unhappily it 
 does not appear to be the policy of Austria, 
 by encouraging the trade of Venice, to create 
 a diversion of any portion of the profits which
 
 200 
 
 nourish the growth of Trieste, or to augment 
 the resources of any part of Italy at the ex- 
 pense of those districts, over which her own 
 dominion is more firmly established. The ties 
 of allegiance, therefore, must be miserably 
 weak at Venice, who sees herself excluded 
 by the policy of her ruler from the full be- 
 nefit of those advantages, which once enabled 
 her to dispense to Italy the fruits of an exten- 
 sive and productive commerce, and concerning 
 the actual condition of whose trade the reader 
 may form some judgment, when he is told that 
 it would be difficult for her at this moment, to 
 reckon more than three or four respectable 
 houses of commercial credit. 
 
 The inhabitants of Venice and Padua, ma- 
 ny of whom hold property on the banks of the 
 Brenta, complained that the necessary and usual 
 repairs of that canal were neglected, in con- 
 sequence of which, the neighbouring country 
 became exposed to wasteful inundations. The 
 publick and private losses consequent on such 
 an event, may be conceived when it is remem- 
 bered, that this is one of the richest and most 
 highly improved parts of Italy. Nor were their 
 complaints without foundation. Returning by 
 the Brenta to Venice, in the year eighteen
 
 201 
 
 hundred and sixteen, I beheld with inexpres- 
 sible grief, the spectacle which their anxious 
 fears had but too faithfully pictured. The 
 embankments of the canal had in several pla- 
 ces given way, and its waters had spread them- 
 selves over a vast extent of country, ming- 
 ling in one extensive ruin the labours of the 
 husbandman and the wrecks of habitations. 
 I could not forbear representing to myself the 
 genius of famine, hovering over the scene 
 and feasting her eyes with this prospect of 
 wide spread desolation. 
 
 The inert and passive character of the Aus- 
 trian government has been more ruinous to 
 Venice, than the restless ambition and vigor- 
 ous oppression of the French. Buonaparte 
 greatly embellished it, and the improvements 
 of which he has the sole merit, by putting in- 
 to motion a multitude of hands, which he found 
 unemployed, were eagerly interpreted by the 
 Venetians as signs of returning prosperity. 
 While they saw him constructing a magnifi- 
 cent garden in the sea, augmenting the splen- 
 dour of St. Mark's place, replenishing the 
 arsenal with naval stores, building ships, giv- 
 ing employment to a multitude of mecha- 
 nicks and artizans, they could scarcely help 
 27
 
 believing that their republiek was about to as- 
 sert its former preeminence. At all events, 
 this bustle, this activity, this parade, would 
 make them forget their real condition, nor 
 would they readily believe that a magician, 
 who could raise such powerful phantoms to 
 deceive them, was any other than a vulgar 
 charlatan, who dealt in the ordinary sleights of 
 political legerdemain. 
 
 It must be evident, how much the pub- 
 lick works, in which the French engaged with 
 so much apparent alacrity, contributed to 
 sooth the Venetians, while suffering un- 
 der the burthens of the war. To the com- 
 mon mind in such circumstances, there is no 
 other standard for estimating the positive good 
 or evil, inherent in any system of govern- 
 ment. Admitting that the return of peace al- 
 leviated the weight of the taxes, and that the 
 policy of Austria does not necessarily impel 
 her to those acts of violence and rapacity, to 
 which the genius of the late government was 
 frequently compelled to resort, yet, if by a 
 cold penury, she blasts those hopes, how- 
 ever delusive, which Buonaparte kindled 
 in the bosom of the Venetians, even the most 
 studied forbearance of any acts of positive vic-r
 
 203 
 
 fence, will not secure to her the affections 
 and allegiance of this subjugated people. 
 
 I have heard it confidently asserted both 
 at Venice and Trieste, that the Emperour 
 and his council had declared that whatever 
 might be their intentions with regard to 
 Trieste, they were determined to leave Ve- 
 nice to its fate. If this determination were 
 founded solely on the proximity of Trieste 
 to the centre of the Austrian dominions, it 
 evinces in the cabinet of Vienna, the influ- 
 ence of a narrow and confined policy, unwor- 
 thy the rulers of a great empire, whose ob- 
 ject it should be to reconcile in one great 
 scheme of government, a multiplicity of dis- 
 cordant interests and feelings. All the advan- 
 tages which Trieste possesses as a commer- 
 cial depot over Venice, might be balanced 
 by a monarch who possesses the power and 
 unlimitted resources of Francis, and surely 
 it would be an act not unworthy of this prince, 
 to rescue one of the tairest cities of Europe 
 from destruction. Might not Venice under 
 his auspices, become again the great entrepot 
 of the wealth of the Levant? There are no 
 impediments to this event which a great so- 
 vereign might not remove. Again her wn-
 
 204 
 
 tenanted palaces and ruined villas might become 
 the gay retreats of wealth and fashion, and Pa- 
 dua, Verona and Vicenza, would shake off the 
 dust and revive. I see nothing in all this im- 
 practicable, romantick or visionary. Buonaparte 
 during a state of war, had leisure to perform 
 miracles of still greater wonder, and a prince 
 whose amiable qualities ought to insure him the 
 love and attachment of all his subjects, who can- 
 not plead his deficiency of power, or the poverty 
 of his resources, should not suffer himself to be 
 surpassed in schemes of beneficence, by one 
 whose ferocious passions led him to trample on 
 the rights of other nations, and whose policy has 
 so often been represented, as systematically hos- 
 tile to the prosperity and liberties of Europe. 
 
 I have expressed myself with some degree of 
 warmth, in speaking of the distress which pre- 
 vails in the province of Istria and the Venetian 
 territory, and have not hesitated to assign as 
 its cause, the character and views of^the reign- 
 ing government. I am ready, however, to al- 
 low, that a considerable portion of the misery 
 of which I have spoken, is not wholly the ef- 
 fect of bad government. I admit that in its pro- 
 duction, the elements have conspired with the 
 mischievous policy of man. The failure of crops 
 in two consecutive years, must be taken into ac-
 
 205 
 
 count, in summing up the causes of publick 
 distress. But this is an evil which a wise and 
 provident government may, in some measure, 
 foresee, and against which it ought to provide 
 a remedy. Seasons of scarcity are not unusual 
 in Italy, but they have hardly ever before been 
 felt to such an extent, or been attended with con- 
 sequences so shocking and deplorable. 
 
 I am not disposed to consider the constitu- 
 tional policy of Austria, as systematically op- 
 pressive and unjust. Like all the old govern- 
 ments of Europe, it is pregnant with abuses, 
 and stands in need of reform. Above all, in 
 speaking of Germany, I wish to be understood 
 as separating the character of its population, 
 from the vices of its government. No one che- 
 rishes a higher respect for those estimable quali- 
 ties, by which the people are characterized. 
 
 Germany possessing few maritime advantages, 
 her intercourse with other nations has been com- 
 paratively limited, and her manners, customs 
 and opinions, have grown up within her own 
 bosom. Even the elements of her literature 
 are wholly original, and although she has begun 
 later than some other nations to cultivate them, 
 yet in the higher walks of composition, and
 
 207 
 
 more especially in the field of abstract and ge- 
 neral speculation, she has already given to the 
 world specimens of extraordinary vigour of 
 imagination and depth of philosophical re- 
 search. He is unacquainted with the deep 
 workings of the heart or the power of poetry, 
 who reads unmoved the works of Goethe and 
 Schiller ; and as a gymnastick exercise of the 
 mind calculated to form a robustness of intel- 
 tellect, there is none more invigorating thart 
 those metaphysical speculations, a taste for 
 which has been so generally diffused by the writ- 
 ings of their great philosopher Kant, and which 
 promise more than any other cause, to commu- 
 nicate a tone of originality and vigour to Ger- 
 man literature, as well as a character of man- 
 liness and independence to the nation. Con- 
 cerning the amiable temper and personal virtues 
 of the sovereign, there can be no dispute, and 
 even with regard to those abuses of authority 
 which prevail in the subordinate departments 
 of his government, I am willing to believe, in 
 the majority of instances they arise more from 
 an overweening attachment to a scheme of 
 politicks, not suited to the present enlightened 
 state of Europe, than from a spirit overbear- 
 ing and despotick.
 
 203 
 
 In crossing from Venice to Fusina> a dis- 
 tance of about five miles, I frequently turned 
 to look back upon the scenes which I had left, 
 where my eyes had been feasted by such a pro- 
 fusion of splendid novelties, and my heart 
 touched by so many interesting recollections. 
 The appearance of Venice is so singular — its 
 effect upon the mind is so different from that 
 of other European cities, that a temporary scep- 
 ticism is apt here to prevail over the judgment 
 of the traveller, and he sometimes gazes at it as 
 if to assure himself that what he beholds is not 
 as unsubstantial as a vision. The surface of the 
 Adriatick was in a state of perfect calm, and 
 distinctly reflected Venice, and all her atte nd- 
 dant Isles, some of which present to the eye no- 
 thing but detached masses of architecture, whilst 
 the delicious and enchanting appearance of oth- 
 ers suggest to the imagination, the fairy scene 
 of Seged's court on the lake of Dambea.
 
 209 '. 
 
 Contemplating Venice under this grand and 
 pleasing aspect, and reflecting how noble a mo- 
 nument, taken all together, she exhibits of the 
 labours of art and of human policy, I felt dis- 
 posed to acknowledge the truth of those praises 
 which Sannazarius in one of his finest raptures 
 bestows upon her, 
 
 Salve Italum Regina altae pulcherrima Roma 
 iEmula quse terris quae dominaris aquis, 
 
 Tu tibi vel reges cives, facis. O Decus,0 lux, 
 Ausonite, per quam libera turba sumus 
 
 Per quam Barbaries nobis non imperat et sol 
 Exoriens nostro clarius orbe nitet. 
 
 The Barque courier offers a cheap and com- 
 modious conveyance to Padua. But the em- 
 bankments of the canal being high, the traveller, 
 in this case, must forego the pleasure of observ- 
 ing to any extent, the delightful country on 
 either side. My compagnon de voyage> and my- 
 self, preferred making this journey in a carriage, 
 rather than to be deprived of the views on the 
 Brenta, of which we had read and heard so 
 much. It was yet the month of May, and the 
 freshness of the spring was still visible upon 
 every field and garden. The poplar of Lom- 
 bard)', had just expanded its aromatick foliage 
 to the gales. The trees hung with garlands of
 
 209 
 
 the vine, gave to the whole country an appear, 
 ance of being decorated for a fete champetre. 
 
 An artificial system of irrigation clothes the 
 surface of Lombardy with a deep and lux- 
 uriant verdure, which is exalted by the bright 
 azure and transparent atmosphere of the Ita- 
 lian sky. As far as the sight extends, the 
 country appeared covered with palaces and gar- 
 dens, and beyond these the gigantick Alps 
 were discerned melting in the distant azure. A 
 multitude of light gondolas passing up and 
 down the Brenta, animated the scene, while 
 the attention was at every moment arrested by 
 the gay villages, and splendid palaces and 
 villas that rise upon its banks. Some of these 
 palaces are after the designs of Palladio and 
 Sansovino. But the painted pillars and figures 
 which adorn several of them, indicate those 
 corruptions in the Venetian taste, which were 
 derived from the intercourse of the repub- 
 lick with Asia. The palace Pisani, at the 
 village of Stra, recently the residence of the 
 ex-viceroy of Italy, is a noble edifice, and 
 together with its superb gardens, is calculat- 
 ed to give an exalted idea of the wealth and 
 luxury of the Venetian nobility. Many of 
 these mansions which used to be the resort 
 28
 
 210 
 
 of gaiety and splendour, are now untenanted 
 and ruinous. The dissolution of these su- 
 perb structures, throws a shade of melancho- 
 ly over the brilliant landscape immediately 
 around them, and the traveller frequently paus- 
 es to muse on objects, that remind him of 
 the inconstancy of fortune and the instability 
 of human greatness. 
 
 At length we found ourselves at the gates 
 of Padua, celebrated for its great antiquity, 
 and once a conspicuous seat of learning. As 
 we passed under the arch of its gigantick 
 portal, and beheld the magnitude of its ram- 
 parts, against wihch Bellona had so often 
 stormed in vain " with all her battering en- 
 gines," but the inevitable fall of which the 
 slow, yet irresistible operation of time was 
 now preparing — the loneliness and silence of 
 its narrow streets — the sombre architecture of 
 its buildings, with their dark and heavy por- 
 ticoes — we called to mind the scenes we had 
 just passed, and regretted that we were now 
 compelled to exchange for the gloom inspir- 
 ed by these objects, the pleasures afforded by 
 the views of the Brenta. We alighted at the 
 door of an inn, in which we found excellent ac- 
 commodation, and employed the remainder of
 
 211 
 
 the day in viewing the city and its environs, 
 A great city not peopled to its full extent, is 
 a cheerless object, and the thinly populated 
 streets of Padua, of course, excited a train 
 of melancholy feelings. It was serious to re- 
 flect, how Padua had dwindled, while other 
 cities grew and flourished. It afforded a still 
 sadder subject for speculation, to see her re- 
 duced to a state so low in the midst of a 
 country apparently so favoured and abundant. 
 Not, could such reflections fail to lead us to 
 the conclusion, that until Italy be restored 
 to the light of liberty, and feel the invigo- 
 rating influence of one powerful and protect- 
 ing government, she must continue to ex- 
 perience the curse of poverty and servitude. 
 It is the nature of all great cities to attract 
 to them, the revenues of the distant provin- 
 ces, and to drain them of their population, 
 and when Venice was strong and prosper- 
 ous, and extended her dominion over the 
 neighbouring part of Italy, Padua must have 
 drooped under the shade of her greatness. But, 
 if Venice should now revive, Padua would 
 be the first to feel the glorious influence of 
 her resurrection. Her wealth would flow up 
 the canal of the Brenta, to animate and beau- 
 tify the villas on its banks, and not as now,
 
 212 
 
 pass from the feeble hand of penury, into the 
 vigorous and insatiable grasp of avaricious 
 opulence. 
 
 Padua, even after its reduction to the yoke 
 of the Roman power, was eminent for the riches 
 of its commerce and its numerous popula- 
 tion. Of this the histories of Tacitus and 
 Livy afford satisfactory evidence. When the 
 Huns poured into the north-east of Italy, and 
 death and desolation followed the footsteps of 
 their leader Attila, part of the population of 
 Padua, alarmed by the fate of Aquileia, fled 
 in consternation to the neighbouring isles in 
 the Adriatick sea, there uniting with the Ve- 
 neti, a people dispersed along its border, and 
 the inhabitants of Aquileia, they laid the foun- 
 dations of the future greatness of Venice. 
 
 At the dawn of science and freedom, Pa- 
 dua became distinguished among the other 
 republicks of Italy by her zeal for letters, and 
 her devotion to liberty. But the atmosphere 
 of free states is the element of vigorous and 
 aspiring talents, and there were not wanting 
 in Padua, individuals who usurped the su- 
 preme authority and exercised with abuse. 
 Yet these men, who trampled upon the li-
 
 212 
 
 berties of their country, protected genius and 
 encouraged polite literature. Petrarch was 
 patronised by Pandolpho di Carrara, and learn- 
 ing counts among its most zealous suppor- 
 ters the Scaligeri family. In the fifteenth 
 century Padua, although she kept her own 
 municipal laws, surrendered her political in- 
 dependence, and yielded the ascendant to the 
 rising genius of Venice. 
 
 Padua occupies an extent of ground about 
 seven miles in circumference, and at present 
 contains from twenty-five to thirty thousand 
 inhabitants. Though inferiour to the majo- 
 rity of Italian cities in point of architectu- 
 ral beauty, some of its edifices, however, are 
 not undeserving of notice. The hall, for 
 instance, of the palace of justice, is remark- 
 able for its spaciousness, but more so for its 
 immense ceiling, three hundred feet long, and 
 one hundred broad, extended over the head 
 of the spectator without the support of co- 
 lumns. It contains a bust of Livy with a 
 latin inscription, less remarkable for its ele- 
 gance, than the strong and ardent admira- 
 tion it evinces for the prince of historians, 
 who from some provincialisms in his style, 
 appears to have been a native of Padua. The
 
 214 
 
 church of St. Antonio is a huge mis-shapen 
 mass of architecture, but, covered with the 
 awful hoar of ages, even its deformity is ve- 
 nerable, and its gloomy and irregular aspect 
 possesses a grandeur, which affects the mind 
 like the dark and sullen majesty of winter. 
 The embrowning effect of time on edifices, 
 that have for centuries resisted, by their soli- 
 dity, the power of the elements, rarely fails 
 to obtain for them a place in our affections. 
 The interiour of St. Antonio is adorned with 
 some paintings of Giotto,* whose expression 
 and colouring still glow through the dim veil 
 of time. The shrine of the saint is hung on 
 each side with votive offerings, and overload- 
 ed with other uncouth ornaments intermixed 
 with the most beautiful sculpture. In the 
 square before the church, stands an eques- 
 trian statue in bronze of the illustrious ge- 
 neral Gattamelata, by Donatello. 
 
 The church of St. Justina is a masterpiece 
 of Palladio. The martyrdom of the saint, 
 over the altar, is by Paul Veronese. The ef- 
 fect of its elegant proportions is not a little 
 
 * Giotto fu il primo, ch'alla dipintura, 
 Gia lungo tempo inorta, desse la vita.
 
 215 
 
 heightened by the extreme cleanliness appa- 
 rent throughout this vast edifice, and by the 
 care which is employed in preserving its pic- 
 tures and ornaments from dust and discolora- 
 tions. The publick piazza called Prate della 
 valle y near the church of St. Justina, is re- 
 markable for its beauty and dimensions, and 
 the statuary, which adorns it, is a testimony of 
 that liberality and devotion to the cause of 
 letters, which I before remarked as eminent- 
 ly distinguishing the city of Padua. 
 
 The buildings of the university were de- 
 signed by Palladio. Its halls of dissections, 
 its gallery of anatomy, the extent of its philo- 
 sophical apparatus, all correspond with the 
 universal fame of this institution. Belonging 
 to this establishment is a botanical garden, ar- 
 ranged according to the system of Toumefort. 
 The beauty of the season rendered irresista- 
 bly inviting a place, where the collected beau- 
 ties of the whole vegetable kingdom, exaled 
 their sweets and displayed their rival colours 
 to the sun. The university of Padua dispens- 
 ed liberal science, not only to the christian 
 world, but to the Mahometan nations. The 
 learning, fame and talents of its professors, 
 and the number of youth of all ranks and
 
 216 
 
 nations, that resorted to it for instruction, ob- 
 tained for it such a rank in the estimation of 
 the world, as scarcely any institution of learn- 
 ing, before or since enjoyed. The walls of 
 the arcades and porticoes are emblazoned 
 with images of foreign and Italian heraldry, 
 and this multitude of armorial ensigns, is a 
 noble testimony of its former dignity and 
 splendour. 
 
 My curiosity was alive to every circum- 
 stance, connected with this once flourishing 
 abode of the muses. Here Petrarch studied the 
 classick writers of antiquity, and Gallileo fill- 
 ed its chair of astronomy. Nor can there be 
 any recollection associated with it, more grate- 
 ful to the mind of an American, than that 
 Christopher Cobumbus here studied the prin- 
 ciples of navigation, which he afterwards ap- 
 plied to the succesful prosecution of an en- 
 terprise, which has been productive of more 
 glorious consequences to posterity, than that 
 philosophical courage, which impelled the mind 
 of Gallileo into the regions of space, to ex- 
 plore the mysterious mechanism of the hea- 
 vens. 
 
 The prospect from the top of the asfrono- 
 mical observatory is extensive, and includes
 
 217 
 
 the Brenta and the Bacchiglione, winding 
 
 through the fertile and cultivated environs of Pa- 
 ss 
 
 dua, the Alps and the Euganean hills. The mag- 
 nitude of the latter is diminished by their prox- 
 imity to the former, which wail the northern 
 frontier of Lombardy. The wild majesty of 
 this range of mountains, sets off to advan- 
 tage the country below, to which the art of 
 man has given the softer attractions of culti- 
 vation. 
 
 About six miles distant from Padua, the 
 warm springs of Abano issue from the foot of 
 the Euganean hills. Their sources are abun- 
 dant, and the quantity of vapour that rises 
 from them, gives to the scenery a singular ap- 
 pearance ; for the soil about it looks as if it 
 were smoking from a recent conflagration. 
 The water fumes and bubbles like liquor in a 
 cauldron. An egg immersed in it became boil- 
 ed in the space of three minutes. This water- 
 ing place at a certain season, is the resort of the 
 beauty and fashion of Padua and Venice. The 
 accommodations are commodious and elegant. 
 The edifice is spacious, and divided into nume- 
 rous apartments adapted to guests of every 
 rank. The baths themselves are of white mar- 
 ble, and receive the water immediately from 
 29
 
 218 
 
 extensive reservoirs, where, by exposure to the 
 atmosphere, it is rendered sufficiently tempe- 
 rate for the purposes of bathing. 
 
 At Abano we inquired the road to Petrarch's 
 villa. Our landlord informed us that the inter- 
 mediate country, afforded no road, for a car- 
 riage, and that unless we travelled with a guide 
 it would be impossible to find our way to the 
 village of Arqua, where exist the tomb and 
 last residence of the poet. 
 
 He then chose for our guide, a respectable 
 looking old man. We left Abano before sun- 
 rise. The scene was not one of those glowing 
 landscapes of Claude Lorraine, where a sultry 
 morning is bursting in dazzling effulgence upon 
 the extensive Campagna, and exhaling rapidly 
 the dews. The appearance of the sun was pre- 
 ceded by refreshing breezes. The only luminous 
 objects visible, were the eminences of the Vi- 
 centian Alps, while a deep shade still involved 
 the Euganean hills. As we passed along, we 
 were exhilirated by the notes of the lark, tow- 
 ering above our heads, and refreshed by the 
 breath of wild flowers that grew upon the sides 
 of the road, which winded among hills and val- 
 lies where even th e genius of Petrarch might
 
 21$ 
 
 have gathered happy materials for poetry. 
 Sometimes it lay along the confines of a lordly 
 palace, and gardens peopled with statues and 
 murmuring with fountains. At another time, it 
 passed through a miserable village, where a 
 half-clothed servile population instantly gather- 
 ed round us, and in their eagerness to kiss our 
 hands and to obtain some boon of charity, near- 
 ly threw themselves beneath our horses feet. 
 
 At length we arrived at the little town of 
 drqua, romantically situated upon a hill, on 
 one side of which stands the mansion of the 
 poet. We found it in a state of lamentable de- 
 cay, and it was not without concern, we viewed 
 the ruinous condition of the hallowed residence 
 of Petrarch. Yet objects consecrated by worth 
 and genius, have an inspiring influence, and a 
 place so often visited by poetick inspiration, 
 can hardly fail to excite in a mind of the least 
 taste and sensibility, many tender and pleasing 
 associations. Adjoining the house were a few 
 acres of grain, interspersed with fruit trees and 
 skirted by a wood. The plaintive warblings 
 of some birds collected in its shade, brought 
 to my mind the following tender verses of 
 the poet;
 
 220 
 
 Se lamentar augelli, o verdi fronde 
 Mover soavemente all'aura estiva, 
 O roco mortnorar di iucid' onde 
 S'ode d'una fiorita, e fresca riva; 
 
 La Vio seggia d'amor pensoso, e scriva : 
 Lei che '1 Ciel ne mostro, terra n'asconde, 
 Veggio, ed odo, ed intendo. 
 
 The house consists of an antichamber which 
 is used as a kitchen, a hall, a smaller apart- 
 ment and a study. In the hall remain some 
 faded frescoes, in which the visitor recognises 
 the figure of Petrarch, in his canonical ha- 
 bit. The subjects of these old paintings relate 
 to incidents in the history of that passion 
 which consumed his life, and gave birth to 
 those pure and exquisite effusions of poetry, 
 which place the name of Petrarch above that 
 of any of the ancient or modern amatory bards. 
 The smaller apartment is connected with the stu- 
 dy, and a tower from a balcony, in which there is 
 a prospect of the neighbouring vallies. Over 
 the sides of this ruin, the honeysuckle mixed 
 with the ivy, wantoned in gay luxuriance. 
 The interiour walls are covered with Italian and 
 Latin inscriptions, left here as a tribute to the 
 memory of the poet. In the study remain his 
 ink-standish and the arm-chair in which he ex- 
 pired. The old woman who inhabited the house
 
 221 
 
 handed us a large album containing the names 
 of all the ,persons, who, from an early period, 
 have visited this sanctuary of genius, each name 
 accompanied with some tributary effusion in 
 verse or prose. We inscribed our names, and 
 left the following lines, which were written from 
 the ink-standish of the poet. 
 
 Hail sacred spot, where sunk to holy rest 
 The flame that burnt in Petrarch's gentle breast, 
 "Where ev'ry kind and gen'rous virtue dwelt, 
 And love and piety by turns were felt. 
 Hail classick bard, at whose enchanting strain, 
 The muse of Italy reviv'd again. 
 Though here no monument with pomp sublime 
 Adorn thy grave, yet o'er the power of time, 
 Thy name shall triumph still, and future days 
 Shall heap with honours thy immortal lays. 
 Thy mistress too, shall share thy deathless fame, 
 And Laura live embalm'd in Petrarch's name.* 
 
 * I do not insert these verses for the purpose of chal- 
 lenging criticism. On the contrary, I flatter myself, 
 they will be received with the indulgence due to an un- 
 premeditated effusion. We could not learn, that any 
 American had ever visited this spot before, and there 
 are few Italian admirers of this poet, who have not 
 yet to be instructed, that in America we are not whol- 
 ly ignorant of the fame of Petrarch, nor insensible te> 
 the charms of his poetry.
 
 222 
 
 Although there are few private palaces of 
 any note in Padua, yet the country around 
 abounds with splendid edifices and delicious 
 gardens. Returning from Arqua, we were 
 attracted by the sumptuous palace, and gar- 
 dens of Michieli. The day being rather sul- 
 try, and the road, for the greater part, open 
 and exposed to the rays of the sun, the sight 
 of shades and thickets was irresistibly invi- 
 ting, and we descended from our horses in- 
 to a covert of groves and thickets, where our 
 eyes were amused with a diversity of jets d'eait^ 
 which exhibited a scene, as playful and as 
 fantastick, almost, as that of Versailles. The 
 palace of Obizzi at Catajo, is a castellated edifice, 
 situated on a rising ground, adorned with bat- 
 tlements and turrets, and other appendages of 
 Gothick magnificence. The park is exten- 
 sive, and stocked with a variety of animals. 
 The most remarkable object on the road f r om 
 Padua to Ferrara, is the ruins of the castle 
 of Monselice. These vast fortifications must 
 have worn a formidable aspect, during the 
 prevalence of the feudal times in Italy, and 
 even in their present delapidated condition, pre- 
 sent such a scene of gothick grandeur, as might 
 well suggest to the invention of the novelist, 
 some terrifick tale of romance. We hired a
 
 223 
 -. 
 guide to conduct us over them. As we ascend-- 
 ed the hill on which they stand, we stopped in a 
 wood to listen to the evening song of the night- 
 ingale, and turned to comtemplate the beauty 
 of the fading landscape. At our feet lay the 
 extensive plains of Lombardy. Behind the 
 dark profile of the western hills, the sky still 
 retained a glow of saffron light, which gave 
 the softest touches to the woods and ruins 
 of Monselice. As we wandered among them, 
 my imagination could not forbear recurring 
 to the manners and usages of the age, in which 
 it was built, and peopling it with the phan- 
 toms of valour and of beauty ; and as the ob- 
 jects around us grew more indistinct, I felt 
 disposed to yeild to all the superstition of ro- 
 mance, and to indulge the recollection of 
 those midnight and terrifick visions, which 
 have turned me pale, when a boy, as I hung 
 with delicious horrour over the pages of Mrs,. 
 Radcliffe. 
 
 Leaving Monselice, and turning jinto the 
 road on the left, we lost sight of the amusing 
 windings of the Brenta and Bacchiglione. As 
 we approached the Roman territories, the coun- 
 try became less populous, and began to wear 
 an appearance less flourishing and gay. If
 
 224 
 
 ■ 
 
 the impressions were comparatively sorrowful, 
 which we received from the face of the coun- 
 try, they were not a little heightened by the 
 spectacle of misery it frequently presented. Ro- 
 vigo is situated in the midst of a fertile coun- 
 try, but has an air of desolation, arising from 
 its want of inhabitants, which ill agrees with 
 its situation in a soil so eminently favoured. 
 
 Ferrara is in a still more inanimate state 
 of existence. Its vacancy and silence oppress 
 the imagination, and are heightened by the 
 recollection of the picture of its former gaiety 
 and splendour, under the house of Este. The 
 noblest and most affecting monuments in this 
 city, are the tomb of Ariosto, and the hospital 
 in which Tasso, during his madness was con- 
 fined. Ariosto, whose powerful fancy refract- 
 ed every ray of thought into the brilliant hues 
 of poetry ; and Tasso, who combined the 
 riches of Ariosto' s fancy, with the classick ele- 
 gance of the Roman bard. The latter, less 
 versatile in his disposition than the former, ap- 
 pears to have been less capable of accommoda- 
 ting his mind to the ordinary occurrences of 
 life. He lived under the delusions of a vivid and 
 headstrong fancy, and yielded without resis- 
 tance, to the overpowering influence of an
 
 225 
 
 ardent sensibility. Born with every personal 
 and intellectual gift, that attracts admiration, 
 young, handsome and chivalrick, Tasso in 
 the bloom of his faculties, and in the meridian 
 of his fame, fell a victim to those constituti- 
 onal defects of mind, which nature seems to 
 have blended with the original stamina of his 
 genius. All those qualities, which rendered 
 him estimable as a poet, were serious impedi- 
 ments to the acquisition of that flexibility of 
 character, without which fortune or distinction 
 are rarely acquired at court, and a consciousness 
 of intellectual superiority, led him to despise 
 the creatures that surrounded Alfonso, and even 
 to regard his patron, as a man of sordid views 
 and narrow capacity. These weaknesses in 
 the mind of the author of Jerusalem Delivered, 
 lead us to the source of those vicissitudes of 
 fortune, which diversified his life with such 
 rapid alternations of happiness and misery. 
 The sense of his misfortunes, operating upon 
 a warm imagination and a tender sensibility, 
 disordered his reason, and the phantoms of 
 madness took possession of that mind, once 
 pregnant with the treasures of poetry. 
 
 Reflection on the lives of many persons, 
 who were gifted with the rarest endowments, 
 
 30
 
 ^26 
 
 cannot but tend to humble the pride of genius. 
 Milton in his old age, blind and infirm, 
 abandoned to solitude and detraction, sink- 
 ing into ."the grave unpitied and unknown,'' 
 and Tasso in the weeds of a beggar, seeking 
 an asylum in the house of a poor sister, are 
 awful and instructive lessons to powerful and 
 ambitious minds. Yet the poet is sometimes 
 sustained under the burthen of misfortune, by 
 the pleasures he derives from the practice of his 
 art, and the prospect of immortal renown, be- 
 fore which the most formidable obstacles va- 
 nish, which poverty and the envy of the world 
 can oppose to the energies of his mind. An 
 illustrious instance of this invincible love of 
 glory was Milton, from whose mind the in- 
 cumbrances of fortune were shaken, " like 
 dew drops from a lion's mane." But to Tasso, 
 how forcibly do the following pathetick lines 
 of Lycidas apply. 
 
 Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise, 
 (That last infirmity of noble minds,) 
 To scorn delight and live laborious days. 
 But the fair guerdon, when we hope to find,
 
 227 
 
 And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
 Comes the blind fury with the abhorred shears, 
 And slits the thin spun life.* 
 
 = 
 The mind turns with horrour and compas- 
 sion from the view of the place, where this fiery 
 and expansive soul, loaded with indignities and 
 humbled by misfortune, often invoked the 
 hand of death to put a period to its sorrows. 
 
 The people of Ferrara appear to move along 
 their streets more by the mechanical impulse 
 of habit, than in consequence of those feelings 
 and sentiments, that govern and direct the ac- 
 tions of beings, that possess an intellectual ex- 
 istence. In the seats before the coffee-houses 
 were persons in whose looks were painted, all 
 the misery of ennui. Human nature vegi- 
 tates in the atmosphere of Ferrara. Man is 
 incommoded by those endowments which ele- 
 vate him in the scale of being. Those intel- 
 lectual powers which he finds too circumscrib- 
 ed for the objects of a noble ambition, when 
 fired by that animating prospect which liber- 
 ty opens to his view, becomes to him a source 
 
 * Tasso died at Rome in the convent of St. Ono- 
 phrio, the night preceding the day appointed for his 
 coronation in the capital.
 
 228 
 
 of painful and unprofitable restlessness, in a 
 state of society that affords no room for their 
 exertion. 
 
 My companion and myself after viewing the 
 palace of its ancient Dukes, which is a vast 
 castle, then surveyed the extensive fortifica- 
 tions around the city. Their moats have 
 spread into extensive marshes overgrown with 
 rushes, and filled with a multitude of frogs, 
 whose incessant and melancholy croakings, ad- 
 ded not a little to the sadness inspired by the 
 air of this deserted city. 
 
 The environs of Balogna are flourishing and 
 animated. Upon the poplars and mulberry 
 trees that border the road, the vine hangs in 
 gay festoons. The country was covered with 
 orchards and fields of grain, and towards the 
 Appenines it rose into hills clothed with ver- 
 dure and adorned with beautiful and striking 
 edifices. Upon one of the most airy and con- 
 spicuous of those eminences, is an unfinished 
 palace, said to have been destined for Eugene 
 Beauharnois when viceroy of Italy. Upon 
 another, stands the celebrated church of the 
 Madonna di St. Luca, three miles from Bologna. 
 A portico consisting of seven hundred arcades
 
 229 
 
 reaches from it to the gate of the city. The 
 church itself is magnificent, and its interiour 
 splendidly decorated ; but its brightest orna- 
 ment is the portrait of the Madonna, painted 
 by St. Luke. 
 
 On entering Bologna we found the front of 
 many of the houses in the principal streets orna- 
 mented with tapestry and crimson damask, and 
 were informed, that this was preparatory to the 
 fete* of the Madonna di St. Luca. The religious 
 festivals of the Italians are always gay. In 
 this beautiful climate even superstition appears 
 to throw off her savage melancholy, and no 
 longer delighting in monastick solitude and 
 the sacrifice of human ties, she seems pleased 
 to be decked with flowers, and to be celebrated 
 by the gay revels of mirth and innocence. To 
 the taste of a person educated in all the severi- 
 ty of protestantism, and accustomed to the sim- 
 
 * Once a year at Bologna, the portrait of the Virgin 
 is conveyed with great pomp from the church, where it 
 is deposited into the city, and placed upon the altar of 
 the cathedral. The procession from the time it leaves 
 the church till its arrival at the gates of the city, is co- 
 vered by a portico, which considering its length, is one 
 of the greatest curiosities of art in Italy .
 
 230 
 
 plicity and austere solemnity of its worship, 
 the gay spirit and brilliant ceremonies of the 
 eatholick church, appear objectionable, as con- 
 verting what should be an exercise of the high- 
 cr affections of the soul, into a mere spectacle 
 for the imagination and the senses. But I must 
 confess, that the peasant boys and girls dressed 
 ill garlands, who came to assist at the proces- 
 sion of the Madonna, did not fill my imagina- 
 tion with images more gay and beautiful, than 
 the impressions made upon it by the solemnities 
 of high mass in the cathedral, were sublime 
 and imposing. The portrait of the Virgin 
 was placed upon the great altar, which on this 
 occasion shone with unusual brilliancy of deco- 
 ration. The dimensions of the picture were 
 so small and its colours so faded, that at the 
 distance I stood from the altar, it was impossi- 
 ble to discern any outline of a human counte- 
 nance. But the interiour of a vast temple 
 magnificently decorated and perfumed with in- 
 cense — the venerable cardinal archbishop kneel- 
 ing before the altar, — an immense crowd actua- 
 ted by one sentiment of devotion, bowing be- 
 fore an humble relick, hallowed to them by tra- 
 dition, and consecrated by those associations 
 which connect the human affections with the
 
 231 
 
 aivine,* was a spectacle no less sublime to the 
 imagination, than consolotary to the heart. A 
 deep and awful silence prevailed for some mo- 
 ments, till the organ rising from a low sym- 
 phony, and swelling by degrees into full har- 
 mony, accompanied by a chorus of angelick 
 voices, seemed to waft the prayers of this mul- 
 titudinous assembly to heaven. 
 
 The impression, however, made by this spec- 
 tacle was not a little impaired by the presence 
 of a military force, stationed ostensibly for the 
 purpose of restraining the press that obstructed 
 
 * " The histories of the follies and caprices of super- 
 " stition direct our attention to those sacred and indelible 
 " characters on the human mind, which all these perver- 
 " sions of reason are unable to obliterate ; like that image 
 " of himself, which Phidias wished to perpetuate, by 
 " stamping it so deeply on the buckler of his Miner - 
 " va ; ' ut nemo delere posset aut divellere, qui totam 
 u statuam non imminueret.' Where are the other truths. 
 " in the whole circle of the sciences, which "are so es- 
 " sential to human happiness, as to procure an easy ac- 
 " cess, not only for themselves, but for whatever opi- 
 " nions may happen to be blended with them ? Where 
 " are the truths so venerable and commanding, as to im- 
 " part their sublimity to every trifling memorial, which 
 1 recals them to our remembrances. ' 
 
 Dugald Stewart's Philosophy of the Mind.
 
 the avenues leading to the altar. It put me too 
 much in mind of what I had often witnessed at 
 Paris, where there was so continual a call for 
 the terrours of a military despotism, to overawe 
 the multitude, where even the sessions of the 
 imperial institute, and the ceremonies of notre 
 dame, were conducted under the eyes of a 
 formidable military guard, and where the mild 
 light of philosophy, and the awful splendours 
 of religion, were all eclipsed by "the pride, 
 pomp and circumstance of glorious war." 
 However proper such a precaution might 
 have been under a government, where the mo- 
 narch wielded a sword, instead of a sceptre, it 
 appeared to me utterly inconsistent with the 
 mild dominion of the crosier. Military hats 
 and plumes intermixed with glittering bay- 
 onets, stood above the heads of the people, 
 and after the archbishop had pronounced the 
 benediction, and the crowd was dispersing, the 
 blasts of the trumpet and the roll of the drum, 
 the word of command and the clattering of 
 arms, formed a sequel in my opinion, calcu- 
 lated to unbind the holy spell, under the 
 influence of which the mind was left by the 
 preceding solemnities. 
 
 I cannot reconcile the accounts which some* 
 travellers give of the extreme depravity of the
 
 233 
 
 Italian nation, with the piety which appears to 
 exist among all classes of its community. 
 They attend publick worship with the utmost 
 punctuality, and frequently the crowd is so 
 great, that their vast churches overflow into 
 the streets. It does not furnish a satisfactory 
 explanation of this inconsistency to say, that 
 their religion consists of a multitude of ex- 
 ternal rites, which occupy the mind to the ex- 
 clusion of higher and more important objects. 
 Wholly occupied (as it has been frequently said 
 they are) with a pompous ritual, and with a 
 superstitious attachment to relicks, their mo- 
 ral sensibilities are too little exercised, to resist 
 the weakest solicitation to criminal indulgence. 
 But in all such reasonings, we should reflect 
 that superstition is the religion of weak minds,* \ 
 and that in rooting out superstition from the 
 heart, there is danger of eradicating along 
 with it, the seminal principle of devotion it- 
 self. In rudely tearing off* the fanciful dra- 
 pery, which religion borrows from the ward- 
 robe of a moral imagination, we incur the 
 
 * ,; Superstition is the religion of feeble minds, 
 fi and they must be tolerated in an intermixture of it> 
 " in some shape or other, else you deprive weak mind* 
 " of a resource, found necessary to the strongest." 
 
 Burke. 
 31
 
 2S4 
 
 hazard of leaving human nature exposed to 
 dreariness of Atheism. " Wisdom," says Mr. 
 Burke, " is not the most severe corrector of 
 " folly, they are the rival follies, which wage 
 " so unrelenting a war." A liberal and en- 
 lightened protestant will tolerate the institu- 
 tions of piety in other countries, not from in- 
 difference, but from a conviction that they are 
 all derived from the same essentia] principles 
 in the human frame ; that they all point to one 
 great and interesting truth, and that superstition, 
 even in its worst shape, is more ennobling and 
 consolatory to the heart, than the refinements 
 of reason when they lead to infidelity. The 
 greatest of modern philosophers declares, 
 that " he would rather believe all the fables 
 "in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the 
 "Alcoran, than that this universal frame is 
 '• without mind."* 
 
 We may discover the gay climate of the 
 south, in the religion of the Italian. Like the 
 beautiful country he inhabits, it is an emana- 
 tion of the milder attributes of the Deity. 
 The same omnipotent hand, which unchains 
 the blasts of the north, pours down the genial 
 
 * Lord Bacon, in his Essays.
 
 235 
 
 rays of heaven upon Italy, and dresses her 
 as for a banquet. And here the altars of 
 Jehovah, are dressed in the fairest and most 
 precious offerings of nature. Gems and flow- 
 ers glow around the awful crucifix, and the 
 element of light, that beautiful and compre- 
 hensive symbol of the Deity, flames upon his 
 altars. 
 
 The houses of Bologna like those of Padua, 
 are furnished with porticoes. This is a great 
 convenience, as you may at all times walk un- 
 der the shelter of these porticoes from one ex- 
 tremity of the city to the other, without being 
 incommoded by the rain or sun. The archi- 
 tecture, however, of this city, is superiour to 
 that of Padua, and some of the streets gratify 
 the eye with the perspective of a beautiful colon- 
 nade. Some of its palaces too, are worthy of dis- 
 tinguished praise, particularly the Palazzo Ha- 
 nuzzi, the facade of which, is admired as a chef 
 d'ozuvre of architecture. These edifices, such 
 as the Palazzi, Bentivogli, Zampieri, Zambe- 
 cariy Malvezi and Marescalchi, are deco- 
 rated in a style of princely magnificence. In 
 many of them, however, the lustre of their or- 
 naments are dimmed by time and neglect. The 
 collections of pictures appertaining to these pa-
 
 236 
 
 laces, consist of the works of the great masters 
 of the Flemish, Roman and Lombard schools. 
 In the Zampieri palace are the frescoes of Guer- 
 c/iino, and the three Caracci. The pictures 
 and furniture of these palaces, were in some 
 instances decayed and injured, and it was with 
 concern I beheld the faded state of some of 
 these precious monuments of the pencil, where 
 dampness and neglect were gradually obliterat- 
 ing the delicate and characteristical touches of 
 genius, which, alas ! could not be recalled from 
 the tomb, to repair its inimitable work. 
 
 From this general observation I mi-st ex- 
 cept, however, the gallery and apartments of 
 the Marescalchi palace, the paintings of which, 
 are in an excellent state of preservation, and 
 the rooms decorated with all the splendour of 
 fashionable elegance. The furniture and orna- 
 ments of these apartments, were in conformity 
 with the standard of Parisian taste. Vases of 
 porcelain from the manufactory of Seva, the 
 forms of antiquity displayed in the classical or- 
 naments of a time-piece, or in the decorations 
 of a bed, or in the fashion of a chair, or a so- 
 pha, reminded me of the gay chambers at St. 
 Cloud and the Thuilleries. No house at Pa- 
 ris was more frequented than Marescalchi' s. His
 
 237 
 
 mask- balls in particular, exhibited a combina- 
 tion of the bold merriment of the Italian, with 
 all the decent graces of the French character. 
 He was the confidant of Napoleon, and the 
 " popolo de suo cuore," as the latter was often 
 pleased to style the Italians, had in the person 
 of this accomplished nobleman an able repre- 
 sentative at St. Cloud. Nor did Marescalchi> 
 it would appear, even relinquish his admiration 
 for the character of Napoleon. In a small ca- 
 binet containing the portraits of the Marescal- 
 chi family, I saw the likenesses of the late em- 
 perour of France, Maria Louisa and the king of 
 Rome ; that of Napoleon in wood, was remark- 
 able. It was a masterpiece of carving, and not- 
 withstanding the multitude of likenesses which 
 I have seen of this extraordinary person, 
 I never saw any that so fully expressed the 
 style and character of his physiognomy. From 
 this cabinet we passed through a suite of apart- 
 ments filled with paintings of the highest value. 
 I remarked a Madonna by Carlo Dolce, and 
 the celebrated salvator mundi of Corregio, for 
 which the proprietor of this collection has been 
 repeatedly offered sums incredible, to those 
 who are unacquainted with the passion of a di- 
 lettante of this order, and with the enormous 
 prices that are frequently given for rare pictures
 
 238 
 
 in Italy. They, however, to whom the match- 
 less performances of Corregio are not unknown, 
 will not be surprised at the refusal of a consi- 
 derable sum, for a piece stamped with all the 
 characteristick excellencies of this master. 
 
 To enumerate every picture worthy of men- 
 tion, in the Marescalchi gallery, would be in- 
 consistent with the nature and limits of these 
 remarks. Several of them I had previously 
 observed in the collection of the Louvre, where 
 Marescalchi purchased them, when the contents 
 of that superb gallery, were ordered to be re- 
 stored to their legal proprietors. 
 
 The person, who attended us through this 
 gallery, drew our attention to the performance 
 of a Flemish master, no less remarkable for 
 the singularity of its subject, than the beauty 
 of execution. He unfolded a pannel on the 
 wall, about a foot and a half square, and dis- 
 played two portraits, representing each sex, 
 adorned with all its characteristick charms at 
 that period of life, which is denominated the 
 season of the graces. Behind these another 
 pair of heads were discovered, in which some 
 resemblance to the two former might be dis- 
 covered, but disfigured by the ravages of de-
 
 239 
 
 cay. I was sensible of an emotion of horrour, 
 tinged, however, with pleasure, in compar- 
 ing the celestial bloom, and ever varying ex- 
 pression of the living countenance, with the 
 frightful monotony of death. The fabled 
 metamorphoses of the human form into the 
 brute, even when heightened by the power 
 of poetick fancy, are not more shocking and 
 terrifick, than that awful and real transforma- 
 tion, which these pictures represent. The eye 
 dim and sunk in its socket, which just before 
 is represented illuminated with intelligence, 
 and sparkling with pleasure, the pale and livid 
 hues of corruption, that have supplanted the 
 lilies and roses of the cheek, while they give 
 pain to the imagination, fill the mind with mo- 
 ralising reflections. Nor does the artist him- 
 self appear to have given this performance to 
 the world, merely as a sullen sport of fancy, 
 but to have designed it for a vehicle of moral 
 instruction. The images of inebriation, and 
 the symbols of gambling, cast a paler lustre 
 on the palid hues of death. Nor are the va- 
 nities of the softer sex forgotten. A braid of 
 golden hair, entwined with diamonds and pearls, 
 and surmounted by a plume, adorns the crown 
 of this ghastly head, opposite to which, as if 
 in derision, is placed a mirrour, in which its 
 frightful shadow appears.
 
 240 
 
 These paintings are an exemplification of 
 the intimate union, which may subsist in the 
 productions of imagination between ideas, 
 which in nature appear to have for each other, 
 a strong and natural repulsion. Imitation or 
 description in this instance, as it were remov- 
 ing the terrifick, or disagreable object to a dis- 
 tance from the mind, and inviting it to feast 
 upon it with delicious grief or horrour. The 
 tone of feeling produced in such cases, resem- 
 bles that sentiment of terrour mixed with 
 delight, which Virgil describes as awakened 
 in the mind, by the lifeless form of Cacus. 
 
 Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo 
 Terribiles oculos, vultum, villosaque spetis 
 Pectora semiferi, atque exstinctos faucibus ignes. 
 
 Poetry and eloquence abound in analogous 
 examples ; I shall only mention one» The 
 graveyard scene in Hamlet, in spite of the 
 low humour and burlesque, intermixed with it, 
 leaves upon the mind a solemn and affecting 
 impression that redeems all its faults. Whatever 
 is ludicrous in the preceding dialogue of Ham- 
 let with the grave-digger is obliterated by the 
 pathetick incident to which it leads, and by 
 the sublime moral lesson it imprints upon the
 
 241 
 
 heart. " Go," says Hamlet, regarding Yo- 
 rick's skull, " get you to my lady's table, and 
 " tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this 
 " complexion she must come at last." 
 
 The comparison of one art with another, 
 leads to the investigation of some general prin- 
 ciples common to them all. By this means, 
 they reflect light upon each other. The theory 
 and „ practice of poetry, derive improvement 
 from the study of painting, and the cultiva- 
 tion and exercise of the imagination, are es- 
 sential to the attainment of excellence, in the 
 higher departments of painting. 
 
 Beyond the walls of the city, is situated the 
 monastery of Certosa, which contains the tombs 
 of some of the most illustrious families, that 
 have graced the annals of Bologna. Its prin- 
 cipal entrance corresponds with the nature of 
 the place. Upon each of the piers of the gate, 
 stands a colossal statue, in a noble and affect- 
 ing attitude of grief. The interiour has the 
 appearance of a flower garden, much more 
 than of a repository of the dead. The skulls 
 of the Carthusians, each bearing on its fore- 
 head a label, indicating the person, to whom 
 it belonged, were disposed on shelves around 
 32
 
 242 
 
 the walls of an apartment, filled with myrtles 
 and orange trees. In another chamber were 
 contained, those of the Bentivogli, and other 
 distinguished Bolognese families. The apart- 
 ments containing these illustrious dead, are not 
 sepulchres but conservatories of flowers. The 
 pious descendants of these noble houses, might 
 here contemplate the relicks of their ancestors, 
 as ^Eneas beheld the shades of departed heroes, 
 surrounded with the bloom of Elysium, and 
 shaded by fragrant groves of laurel. 
 
 Pulcherrima proles, 
 Magnanimi heroes nati melioribus annis,. 
 Inter odoratum lauri nemus. 
 
 It was a happy thought thus to unite in the 
 same place, the gayest part of the creation, 
 and the mouldering relicks of the tomb. The 
 forms of death, reposing beneath canopies of 
 flowers, like the gay and beautiful images 
 sculptured on the ancient sarcophagi, inspire 
 the animating hope, founded on that beauti- 
 ful analogy of nature, which is constantly re- 
 viving with new life and vigour, out of the 
 very ashes of decay. 
 
 Bologna was distinguished at an early period 
 as a seat of learning. Here the light of juris-
 
 243 
 
 prudence, after the night of gothick barbarism, 
 began first to dawn, and gradually to diffuse 
 itself over Europe. Her present learned insti- 
 tutions, although they have been outstripped 
 by those of some other countries, are not 
 unworthy of her early eminence in letters. 
 The Institute occupies an extensive palace, 
 which is divided into apartments, distributed 
 according to their different objects. The library, 
 the observatory, the cabinet of natural his- 
 tory and anatomy, its chemical laboratories 
 are all well furnished. The academy of sciences 
 forms a part of the Institute. It was commenc- 
 ed under the auspices of a youth, only sixteen 
 years of age, and afterwards extended and en- 
 riched by the patronage of count Marsigli. 
 The apartment appropriated to the academi- 
 cal exercises of the students of painting, and 
 to the exhibition of their performances, con- 
 tains copies of some of the most famous mas- 
 terpieces of art, such as the Laocoon, the Apol- 
 lo Belvidere, the Hercules, and Flora of the 
 Farnese palace, the Antinous and the Me- 
 leager. In the gallery of sculpture was the 
 fine group of the death of Virginia by Delia 
 Maria, present professor of sculpture. This 
 performance has been highly extolled by Ca- 
 nova.
 
 244 
 
 The gallery of paintings owes its origin to a 
 member of the noble family of Zambeccari. 
 The academy of painting, for the encourage- 
 ment of young artists, confers prizes on such 
 of them as excel. In the gallery the likeness of 
 the present pontiff, now occupies the pedes- 
 tal upon which recently stood Canova's cele- 
 brated colossal bust of Napoleon. I must not 
 omit to mention here the return from Paris of 
 the works of the great Lombard masters. A ge- 
 neral joy was expressed by the Bolognese, at 
 the recovery of these invaluable specimens of 
 art. I saw a second time with undiminished 
 admiration, the martyrdom of St. Agnes, by 
 DomenichinOy the communion of St. Jerome, 
 by Agostino Caracci, and the massacre of the 
 innocents by Guido Rheni. The last piece 
 no person can look at without being struck by 
 the horrible energy, with which the artist has 
 painted the tragick event that forms its sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Notwithstanding the high state of cultiva- 
 tion, and the fertility of the soil around Bo- 
 logna, the symptoms of general poverty 
 were not less apparent here, than in those parts 
 of Italy through which I had passed. All of 
 whom I happened to make inquiries concern-
 
 245 
 
 ing the present condition of Bologna, con- 
 curred in representing it to be much more un- 
 happy, than during the time of French. In 
 expressing their ideas on this subject, all con-, 
 curred in employing the strong phrase, mol- 
 tissima miseria. In one or two cases, where 
 I took the . liberty of drawing a comparison, 
 between the violent and despotick measures 
 of Buonaparte, and the mild and paternal 
 government of the Pope, their reply to my 
 defence of the latter, was si e vero, e buono 
 per Vanima.* 
 
 * Very true, it is a good government for the soul.
 
 246 
 
 Having now conducted the reader to the 
 foot of the Appenines, I leave him to form 
 his own opinion, concerning the future prospects 
 of the beautiful section of Italy, through which 
 I have so rapidly led him. If he draws his 
 omens and anticipations of the future from the 
 past, they are likely to be gloomy indeed, but 
 if he takes, as the ground of his reasoning, 
 the influence of science, the general diffu- 
 sion of knowledge, and the gradual extirpa- 
 tion of prejudices, he may indulge in the sere- 
 ner visions of philosophy, and contemplate 
 Italy advancing by degrees, to that state of 
 social happiness, which must eventually be 
 the result of those feelings and principles, 
 which are now disseminated over Europe, and 
 the effect of which, although it may be retard- 
 ed, cannot be defeated by the folly of its ru- 
 lers. I think I may venture to assert, that 
 the mass of the people in Italy is daily grow- 
 ing more enlightened. Is it possible that in
 
 247 
 
 a country, where science has taken such deep 
 root, and where there has long existed such 
 opportunities of liberal improvement, there 
 should not be forming a spirit, which is finally 
 destined to burst asunder those Lilliputian 
 fetters, which hold in a state of inglorious 
 prostration her gigantick powers ? But this 
 is a subject, the discussion of which, I shall 
 reserve for a future occasion. I shall now 
 proceed through Florence to the Roman capi- 
 tol, noticing in my way, such characteristick 
 beauties of nature and of art, as I think best 
 calculated to convey to the mind of the reader, 
 a picture of the country through which I am 
 rambling, and dwelling on such incidents, as 
 appear to me illustrative of the genius and 
 character of its people. 
 
 The Appenines have been often traversed, 
 and their scenery repeatedly described. But 
 few travellers in passing them have been suf- 
 ficiently at their ease to feel those sublime 
 beauties, which belong to nature in these ele- 
 vated and sequestered regions. The result of 
 my inquiries concerning them was, generally, 
 that the roads over them were dangerous, the 
 atmosphere cold, and the inns detestable. How 
 attentive we ought to be to the weaknesses and
 
 deficiencies of our own minds, who under- 
 take to describe a country ; and of all the 
 sources of errour to which we are exposed, 
 there is none, the influence of which ought 
 to be so strenuously resisted, as of those by 
 which the decisions of taste are likely to be 
 affected. A bare description of facts, how- 
 ever interesting it may be to the geologist, 
 the natural historian and the botanist, afford 
 but an imperfect idea of a country. It can- 
 not express that moral charm, nor exhibit 
 those general features of external beauty, 
 which, as they are among the most pleasing, 
 so they are the most essential traits, by which 
 nations and countries are characterized. There 
 are few persons, whose taste is wholly exempt 
 from the influence of local and accidental as- 
 sociations, but there are many, who see no 
 beauty in a country, that does not afford 
 smooth roads and good taverns. In America 
 we laugh at the petulant remarks, respecting 
 our own country of foreigners, whom an un- 
 lucky bottle of wine, or a cross landlord, has 
 sent away displeased with every thing they 
 saw. I have known a traveller at Rome, posi- 
 tively refuse to visit Tivoli, in consequence 
 of the account which he received of the bad 
 accommodations at the inn, and numerous in-
 
 249 
 
 stances might be adduced, where the prospect 
 of an indifferent dinner has been sufficient to 
 cloud the bright skies of Italy, and to throw 
 a shade over its classick scenes. 
 
 The populous and cultivated plains of Bo- 
 logna, appear to advantage, from the last ridge 
 of the Appenines. Here the traveller takes 
 leave for a time, of the works of man, and 
 enters a region, where nature reigns supreme 
 and absolute. 
 
 Where if art 
 E'er dared to tread, 'twas with unsandal'd foot, 
 Printless, as if the place were holy ground. 
 
 The vehicle I made choice off for this 
 
 journey, is called a vettura, a cheap, although 
 
 not the most expeditious mode of travelling, 
 
 and admirably accommodating to a person, 
 
 desirous of leisurely inspecting the face of the 
 
 country. In this unmanageable and ponderous 
 
 vehicle, we were sometimes dragged by mules 
 
 and oxen, up to the top of a steep hill, and 
 
 precipitated down the opposite side, with giddy 
 
 velocity. My companions were Bolognese, 
 
 and did not appear to be much in love with 
 
 the charms of la belle nature. I left them to 
 
 33
 
 250 
 
 converse in their uncouth and lugubrious dialect,, 
 to the sounds of which I was unable to annex 
 any signification, and pursued my journey on 
 foot before the carriage. They were at a loss 
 to account for my preference of the road, and 
 marvelled not a little, to see me standing in a 
 shower,* on the brink of a precipice, gazing, 
 like one lost, at frightful chasms and preci- 
 pices, and listening to the roar of torrents, 
 rushing down the sides of the mountain. They 
 frequently reminded me of the danger of an 
 incautious exposure to the cold atmosphere 
 of the mountains, and pressed me to resume 
 my seat in the carriage. This solicitude, for 
 the health of a person whom they had never 
 seen before, and probably would never meet 
 again, convinced me that my companions, al- 
 though they evinced no enthusiastick admira- 
 tion for mountainous scenery, and spoke a lan- 
 guage harsh and unmusical, were not desti- 
 tute of more estimable qualities, and I blush- 
 ed at the trivial circumstance which had led 
 me to judge unfavourably of their character. 
 
 * The atmosphere of the Appenines is subject ta 
 frequent and sudden variations. Showers quickly col- 
 lect and pass over, and violent storms of thunder, of- 
 ten add to the grand effect of these wild solitudes.
 
 251 
 
 As we descended the Appenines, there was a 
 sensible change in the face of the country, 
 which no longer presented the wild and un- 
 couth features of the mountainous solitudes we 
 had passed, but was highly cultivated and po- 
 pulous. The fair landscapes which Tuscany 
 now presented, corresponded with the idea I 
 had formed of the beauty and fertility of Italy. 
 Nor did the manners and aspect of its inhabi- 
 tants inspire sensations less gay, than its smi- 
 ling scenery. They approached and saluted 
 us, in the pure and harmonious language of 
 their country. I remarked that my compa- 
 nions, who had hitherto spoken Bolognese, now 
 began to lay aside their own harsh dialect, and 
 to converse together in pure Tuscan, saying 
 Lasciamo la nostra lingua Petroniada. In 
 hearing the peasantry of this part of Italy 
 speak, my imagination was often awakened by 
 that harmony and felicity of expression, which 
 have charmed me in the Tuscan writers, and 
 which presenting to my memory the richest 
 images of fancy, gave to the scenes in which 
 L heard them pronounced, the enchantments 
 of poetry. 
 
 The peasant girls are animated, and some- 
 times beautiful, and the smartness of their
 
 252 
 
 looks, is not a little improved by a hat and 
 plume, and their graceful manner of wearing 
 it. The better class of them, load themselves 
 with a profusion of jewelry.* The diamonds 
 they wear are, to be sure, not of the first wa- 
 ter, nor the pearls of the most brilliant white- 
 ness, or of the finest shape, but what they 
 want in quality, they make up in quantity. 
 Their manners are courteous, and the turn of 
 their expressions, as has frequently been re- 
 marked, is sprightly and graceful. As I was 
 admiring a rose in the dress of one of them, 
 she said to me, vrCa regalato un giovinotto di 
 sessanfanni ; it is a present from a youth of 
 sixty years of age. The vivacity, which char- 
 acterizes the peasantry of Tuscany, has an in- 
 fluence on the mind, not less delightful, than 
 
 * When they go abroad or visit on festival days, 
 they make a ludicrous exhibition of their wealth, in the 
 ornaments of their persons. The family of a rich Tus- 
 can farmer was pointed out to me, in a barge on the 
 Brenta. The good man himself wore two golden 
 watches, with immense chains that hung half way to 
 his knees. The large arms and hands of his dame, 
 sparkled with rings and bracelets, and as many old fash- 
 ioned pearls and diamonds, were displayed on the per- 
 sons of his daughters, as would have furnished a com- 
 mon jeweller's shop.
 
 25; 
 
 the unrivalled beauty of its climate, and 
 the gay embroidery of its fields and mea- 
 dows. 
 
 As I approached Florence, an atmosphere 
 perfumed with flowers, and the scenery of 
 the ArrtOy which was in all its beauty, realised 
 the most flattering pictures my imagination 
 had previously formed of this enchanting 
 vale. On entering the city by the Porto di 
 St. Gallo, I admired the long and spacious 
 streets before me, which had nothing of the 
 heaviness of those of Bologna, and the edi- 
 fices I passed indicated a purer taste in ar- 
 chitecture, than I had yet seen exemplified in 
 the cities of Italy. The beauties of the Tus- 
 can architecture are peculiarly striking to one, 
 who arrives almost directly from Venice, where 
 the classick works of Palladio, are intermix- 
 ed with the remains of Saraceniek magnifi- 
 cence. Yet, I confess, for me the latter pos- 
 sess, in a much greater degree, the charms 
 of novelty. The edifices in Venice which 
 border the grand canal, although they evince 
 a taste irregular and capricious, on the whole 
 produce, a more pleasing effect, than the state- 
 ly beauties of the Florentine palaces. In view- 
 ing, however, the palace fiicardi, and the
 
 254 
 
 palace Pitti, and some others, it must be ad- 
 mitted that they are specimens of purer taste 
 than is displayed in the mansions of the Ve- 
 netian nobility. 
 
 The Pallazzo Vecchio is the ancient resi- 
 dence of the illustrious family of the Medici. 
 Its exteriour is gothick, and its turret and 
 battlements are singular appendages in the actual 
 state of Florence, but their utility is apparent 
 enough, when we recollect the character of 
 the times, of which it is a striking monument, 
 when the frequent popular commotions to which 
 its government was subject, rendered it ne- 
 cessary for those, who were conspicuous ob- 
 jects of the people's resentment or jealousy, 
 to fortify themselves in their palaces, against 
 the fury of the multitude. 
 
 Around this old palace are some noble and 
 striking works of art. On one side of its en- 
 trance stands a statue of David; a juvenile 
 performance of Michael Angelo. On the oth- 
 er side is a Hercules subduing Cacus ; by Ban- 
 dinelli. In the Loggia, opposite, is a beauti- 
 ful Perseus, holding in one hand a sword with 
 which he has just cut off the head of Medusa, 
 distilling blood ; by Benvemito Cellini. The
 
 255 
 
 tragical death of Holophernes, by Donatello ; 
 and a group in marble, by Giovanni di Bologna, 
 representing the rape of the Sabines, where 
 an old man attempting to rescue his daughter, 
 is overturned by the impetuosity of the Roman 
 soldier, who bears off the virgin in his arms. 
 The entrance into this Loggia, is guarded by 
 two large lions, transported hither from the gar- 
 dens of the palace of the Monte ei Trinita at 
 Rome. The fountain which forms a conspicu- 
 ous ornament of this piazza, and is on one 
 side of the palace, was erected by order of 
 the grand Duke Cosmo the first. Neptune 
 standing in his car drawn by sea-horses, attend- 
 ed by tritons and surrounded with satyrs and 
 marine divinities, is an animated group, and 
 the water that is perpetually playing and flow- 
 ing around it envelopes it in continual mist and 
 showers. 
 
 Near this fountain, upon a large pedestal of 
 marble, is an equestrian statue in bronze, of Cos- 
 mo the first, erected to his memory, as a latin in- 
 scription on the pedestal tells us, by bis son Fer- 
 dinand- On the other three sides of the pedestal 
 are represented in bas relief, three conspicuous 
 events in the life of Cosmo— when he was first cre- 
 ated Duke of Florence — his coronation at Rome 
 as grand Duke by Pius the fifth, and the vie-
 
 256 
 
 torious entry into the city of Sienna. The in- 
 teriour of the Palazzo Fecchio, is adorned 
 with paintings by Fasari, and other artists. 
 They interest the visitor, by turning his atten- 
 tion to some of the most striking events in the 
 history of Florence, and to the illustrious ac- 
 tions of the house of de Medici. In one of 
 them, Pius the fifth is represented conferring on 
 Cosmo the first, the crown of Tuscany, and de- 
 corating him with the regal mantle. 
 
 The celebrated gallery which was commenc- 
 ed by Cosmo de Medici, and which is so de- 
 servedly extolled on account of the works of 
 art it contains, is between the Palazzo Fec- 
 chio and the banks of the Arno. In the mid- 
 dle of the fifteenth century, the illustrious found- 
 er of the fortunes of the Medici family, patronis- 
 ed the arts'and collected within the apartments of 
 his own sumptuous palace, the masterpieces of 
 statuary and painting, which his immense wealth, 
 and his extensive correspondence with remote 
 countries enabled him to accumulate. In this glo- 
 rious undertaking, of reviving in Florence the 
 Augustan age, he was succeeded by Lorenzo, 
 surnamed the Magnificent, the patron of Mi- 
 chael Angelo, the founder of the Floren- 
 tine school of painting. Under the protection
 
 257 
 
 of Pierro his son and the scholar of Politiattj 
 the Medicean gallery would not have failed to 
 have become enlarged, but this prince not 
 combining with his literary accomplishments, 
 the wisdom and policy of his father, the 
 reins of government slipped from his hands ; 
 he was driven into banishment, and the superb 
 collection accumulated by the zeal and indus. 
 try of his predecessors, was sold at auction 
 and dispersed. A portion of it, however, was 
 afterwards recovered, when the influence of 
 the Medici family was re-established. 
 
 It was Cosmo the first, that engaged Vasari 
 to erect the buildings, which at present are de- 
 nominated the gallery of Florence. The tri- 
 bune in which is now placed the Venus de 
 Medicis, was erected by Francis the first, 
 the successor of Cosmo. At the accession 
 of Ferdinand the first to the throne of Tusca- 
 ny, this gallery was augmented by the ad- 
 dition of his valuable collection at Rome. 
 Ferdinand the second, founder of the academy 
 del Cimento, was a passionate admirer of the 
 arts, and enriched it with the fine bust of Cice- 
 ro, the statue of Hermaphrodite, and that 
 unrivalled painting, the Venus of Titian. 
 Cosmo the third, who was heir to the wealth 
 34
 
 258 
 
 of the Dukes of Urbino of the house of delta 
 Rovere, and to the immense collection in the 
 palace Pitti, belonging to his uncle Cardinal 
 Leopoldo, did not neglect to augment with 
 these important acquisitions, the splendour of 
 a gallery, which reflected so much lustre on 
 his family. To the munificence of John Gas- 
 ton de Medici, this collection is also indebted. 
 
 This is a short history of the origin and 
 growth of this celebrated gallery, under the 
 auspices of the Medici. After their extinction 
 the house of Lorraine, which succeeded them 
 continued that care, which had raised a monu- 
 ment of taste, so honourable to the capital 
 of Tuscany, and the grand Duke Pierro Leo- 
 poldo holds a conspicuous rank among its bene- 
 factors. He purchased for it the collection of 
 the portraits of the painters, and added the 
 Niobe, the Young Apollo, some fine paintings 
 by the first masters, an extensive cabinet of 
 medals and other interesting objects, and final- 
 ly, made a present of these invaluable works 
 of art to the publick, and decreed the gal- 
 lery to be the property of the state. 
 
 This rich collection paid its contribution to 
 the general treasury of art at Paris, but, al-
 
 259 
 
 though despoiled of some of its greatest master- 
 pieces, it still retained a sufficient number of 
 works of the highest merit, to enable it to contest 
 the superiority, with any other depository of art, 
 except that of the Vatican, in Europe. A 
 great number of them, to prevent their falling 
 into the hands of the French, were conveyed 
 to Palermo. The gallery, when I saw it, had 
 not resumed all its original splendour, but 
 some of its statues had been replaced, and 
 others were daily expected. 
 
 A spacious staircase leads to a vestibule, 
 containing the busts of the Medici family. Even 
 after death the spirits of these great men seem 
 to animate their images, and to preside over 
 their darling treasure, and a mind not dead to 
 the raptures of inspiration, will at the en- 
 trance of this temple of the arts, pay a pas- 
 sing tribute of respect to the shades of its 
 illustrious founders. 
 
 The paintings distributed in separate com- 
 partments, over the ceiling of the gallery, are 
 a commentary on the history of Florence. In 
 them the virtues and talents that have adorned 
 the repubiick are celebrated, and the portraits 
 of the warriors, statesmen, philosophers and
 
 260 
 
 artists, m whom they were exemplified, are 
 calculated for a stimulus to the powers of the 
 mind, and an excitement to that love of dis- 
 tinction, which prevailed no where more, than 
 in the state, whose literary and political glo- 
 ry, has here furnished so many noble subjects 
 for the pencil. From the contemplation of 
 the historical incidents recalled to his memory 
 by these representations, the visitor is with- 
 drawn by the works of painting and sculpture 
 that surround him. He admires the figures 
 on some ancient Sarcophagi, inviting the ima- 
 gination to range through the gay regions of 
 poetry and fable. 
 
 The ancients have, in some measure, dis- 
 played their moral character, in ornamenting 
 the receptacles of their dead with festive ima- 
 ges. It would seem by this, that they intend- 
 ed to solace and enliven the mind under that 
 despondency, which must frequently have fil- 
 led it at the faint and uncertain prospect, which 
 their religion opened of a future life. But pa- 
 ganism, which involved this interesting doc- 
 trine in fable, in some instances, clothed it 
 with pleasing images, and painted it in lively 
 colours. If it did not satisfy the understand- 
 ing and influence the heart, it presented gay
 
 261 
 
 pictures to the imagination and the senses. 
 Christianity, which established a higher and 
 purer standard of morality, than was known to 
 the ancients, and the doctrines of which all 
 tend to fortify the mind against the illusions 
 of sense, expelled these dreams of fancy, 
 and whilst it has established the resurrection, 
 on the most solid basis of evidence, the hints 
 which it affords of a future state, furnish no 
 foundation for the structures of imagination, 
 but open a prospect to the soul, boundless 
 as its hopes and tremendous as its fears. 
 
 On one of these ancient Sarcophagi, is re- 
 presented in bas relief the triumph of Bacchus. 
 A yoke of tigers is attached to the car of Ari- 
 adne, that of Bacchus is drawn by two Cen- 
 taurs. The pomp is preceded by a winged 
 figure of victory, and followed by a gay band 
 of Fauns and Bacchanals. On an other, the 
 rape of Proserpine is poetically described. 
 The car, in which her ravisher bears her off, 
 is drawn by a team of infernal horses. Mer- 
 cury leads the way, and the god of love hovers 
 above with a torch to light their gloomy hy- 
 menals. Then follow the other incidents of the 
 fable, the wanderings of Ceres, and the da- 
 ring exploit of Hercules. On an other, is
 
 262 
 
 engraven the story of Phaeton, a happy sub- 
 ject for the ornament of a tomb, if we con- 
 sider it, either as illustrative of the aspiring 
 hopes of man, and his elevated destiny, or 
 as an image of that audacious vehemence of 
 youth, which only accelerates the extinction 
 of life. Meleager and the huntress Atalanta 
 surrounded with their dogs, present to the 
 imagination an image of vigorous life. Na- 
 ture is every where full of activity and move- 
 ment, ever resisting the attacks of death, and 
 when her fairest works seem to perish beneath 
 his power, her immortal energy revives them 
 with new life and beauty from the dust. 
 The visitor sees upon an other Sarcophagus, 
 the figures of Nereids, Tritons, Dolphins and 
 winged boys, who bear in their hands sea- 
 shells, filled with fruits and flowers, and the 
 allegory is unriddled, when he recollects that 
 some of the ancients placed the seat of the 
 Elysian fields in an island of the ocean. 
 
 Proceeding then to the examination of the 
 busts of this collection, his attention is likely, 
 in the first place, to be directed to the portraits 
 of the Roman Emperours, and he naturally sin- 
 gles out such of them, as he imagines to 
 express those features of the mind, which 
 made them a blessing or a curse to mankind.
 
 63 
 
 He endeavours, however, in vain, to dis- 
 cover in die physiognomy of Tiberius traces 
 of that mysterious and involved policy,* which 
 eluded the most piercing scrutiny, and those 
 dark lines and colours, with which Tacitus 
 has painted his moral character. The face of 
 Tiberius, here, does not yet appear to have 
 been dimued by his passions. He must have 
 worn an aspect different from this, when en- 
 feebled by old age, he retired to the delicious 
 island of Caprea, and hoped, amidst its plea- 
 sures and voluptuous climate, to banish the 
 remembrance of his crimes. 
 
 The bust of Nero, the murderer of A grip- 
 ping expresses those qualities of mind, which, 
 at early period, made him the hope and favour- 
 ite of the Roman people, and yet I do not 
 know, if the whole face were analysed, whe- 
 ther that smiling air which marks it, would 
 not be found an essential property in the com- 
 position of the countenance of every villain, who 
 combines great powers of dissimulation with 
 obduracy of heart. 
 
 * " Tiberioque etiam in rebus, quas non occuleret, 
 " seu natura, sive asuetudine, suspensa semper et obscu- 
 « ra verba : nitenti ut sensus suos penitus abderet, in in- 
 " certam et ambiguum magis implicabantur." 
 
 lacitus JinvaU Lib. I.
 
 264 
 
 The virtues of the venerable Galba, the 
 effeminacy of Otho, and the gluttony of Vite-> 
 lius, are charactered in their respective busts. 
 The face of Vespasian announces the qualities 
 of his mind, and its aquiline nose, a peculiar 
 form of this feature which is said to be indi- 
 cative of a soaring and commanding genius, 
 is characteristick of the history of this sol- 
 dier of fortune, who from the ranks was ele- 
 vated to the purple. The majestick aspect of 
 Nerva is discriptive of his virtues, and the 
 mild glories of Trajan's reign, seem to be 
 diffused over the features of his bust. The 
 head of Commodus, son of Marcus Aurelius, is 
 fine, and is a combination of ideotism and 
 beauty. A ferocious and frightful air marks 
 the likeness of Caracalla, and the portrait of 
 the imperial fratricide seems to lower with a 
 darker scowl, in the neighbourhood of that 
 of his brother Geta, whom he stabbed in the 
 arms of Julia their mother. 
 
 This gallery contains a bust of Julius C<esar 
 and of Cicero, two great men, who flourished 
 in the time of the republick, a period propi- 
 tious to the growth of those virtues and ta- 
 lents, which withered and drooped under the 
 despotism that succeeded. The spare and
 
 265 
 
 animated countenance of Casar, is expres- 
 sive of the fire, penetration and activity of his 
 genius. The bust of Cicero is remarkably 
 fine, and seems to glow with those treasures of 
 thought and fancy, with which he illustrated 
 and adorned every topick he touched, but 
 which entitle him to a fer less share of glory in 
 the eyes of posterity, than that courage which 
 impelled him in the midst of enemies, to fight 
 the battles of liberty, with a zeal and eloquence 
 that has never been surpassed. 
 
 Having examined some of the busts, the 
 most conspicuous in point of execution, or 
 the most striking on account of the associations 
 they awaken in the mind, the visitor may then 
 indulge his admiration of works of higher me- 
 rit, and proceed to the consideration of those 
 ideal forms which grace the different cham- 
 bers of this gallery. They are the Venus de 
 Medicis, the Niobe, the Hermaphrodite, the 
 dancing Faun, the two wrestlers and the young 
 Apollo. 
 
 The apartment allotted to the Venus de Me- 
 dicis, is fitted up with great elegance, and 
 adorned with La bella Fornarina, and some 
 other choice pieces of Raphael, the celebrated
 
 266 
 
 Venus of Titian, and other esteemed pieces 
 of the Roman, Lombard and Venetian mas- 
 ters. A crimson drapery suspended near the 
 Venus de Medicis, renders the whiteness of 
 the marble more tranchant, and defines with 
 greater precision the beautiful outline of this 
 statue. The shape of this apartment is octa- 
 gonal, and is covered by a dome superbly en- 
 riched with mother of pearl. Leaving the beau- 
 tiful temple in which the Paphian goddess is 
 enshrined, it is necessary to make nearly the 
 whole circuit of the gallery, in order to arrive 
 at the chamber which contains Niobe and her 
 children. Impatient to view this immortal 
 work of Praxiteles, the visitor casts over 
 the masterpieces that occupy the intermediate 
 portion of the gallery, a hasty and superficial 
 glance. He is forcibly struck by the noble 
 form of Niobe, so beautiful in grief, and those 
 emotions of maternal tenderness which play 
 over her countenance, and yet do not mar its 
 celestial symmetry, are more deeply affecting 
 than that terrifick expression of moral and phy- 
 sical pain diffused over the features of the dying 
 Laocoon. 
 
 After the statuary the paintings next call the 
 attention. The Florentine school was foun-
 
 267 
 
 ded by Michael Angelo and Leonardo da Vin- 
 ci. The latter was an elegant critick, and 
 has written profoundly upon the theory of the 
 art in the practice of which he attained so high a 
 degree of excellence. In the works of Michael 
 Angela are to be found those original and mas- 
 terly beauties, which have given a peculiar tone 
 of grandeur to all the Italian schools of paint- 
 ings, and which is not less visible in the perform- 
 ances of Vasari and Andrea del Sarto, than in the 
 works of the Roman and Lombard masters. One 
 solitary piece in the Tribune is all that in this 
 gallery, is ascribed to Michael Angelo, and I an- 
 ticipated with more than pleasure he moment 
 when the Vatican should " unbar its gates," and 
 show me the wonders of the Pauline and Sis- 
 tine chapels. Of the style of Leonardo da Find, 
 Andrea del Sarto and Vasari, this gallery af- 
 fords a sufficient number of examples, if the 
 churches of Florence were not so rich in pro- 
 ductions of the Tuscan school, as to render a 
 collection of their works here almost superflu- 
 ous. The stranger in a short time becomes 
 acquainted with that purity of design, that strik- 
 ing and noble simplicity, which raise it so far 
 above the Venetian school, ^ where an exube- 
 rant imagination, and a love of ostentation, are 
 not considered as faults in an art, which in an its
 
 268 
 
 higher efforts demands a severity of taste, and 
 a grandeur of conception not inferiour to what 
 are exercised by the poet in the department of 
 epick composition. At the same time that he 
 admires the enchanting languor, the inimitable 
 graces, and the unrivalled hues of complexion 
 which Titian has lavished on the portrait of 
 the goddess of beauty, he cannot for a mo- 
 ment put these sensual charms in competition 
 with that inward purity of mind, which is ex- 
 pressed in the angelick features of Raphael's 
 Madonna. 
 
 Some fine paintings here, executed by Reu- 
 bens, Paul Br ill, Gerard Dow, Mieris and Hem- 
 brant, show the distance that exists between 
 the genius and taste of the Tuscan artists, 
 and those narrow views of painting, from which 
 the Flemish and Dutch schools derive their 
 leading characteristicks. Here a laborious and 
 pains-taking tribe of artists, have copied nature 
 with unrivalled fidelity, but have neglected 
 to study her in those noble and happy atti- 
 tudes, which supply an inventive imagination 
 with such materials, as compose the sublime 
 creations of a Raphael or a Corregio.
 
 269 
 
 In consequence of some foregoing remarks, 
 it perhaps remains for me to say something of 
 the comparative merits, of the Florentine gal- 
 lery and the Louvre. The latter indeed may be 
 now said no longer to exist, but the comparison 
 may, notwithstanding, be acceptable to those, 
 who, leaving out of the question the equity 
 of the transaction, consider the dispersion of 
 the Parisian gallery, an event to be lamented 
 by every lover of the arts. The distribution of 
 the gallery at Florence is strikingly objectiona- 
 ble, and is as little pleasing to the sense of vi- 
 sion as it is gratifying to the understanding. 
 The magnificent coup d 'ceil, which the gallery 
 of the Louvre offered to the eye, and its admi- 
 rable classification of the productions of the 
 different schools, were highly creditable to 
 the taste and judgment of its founders. The 
 Gorridores of Florence, I must confess, dis- 
 appointed me, accustomed as I had been to 
 that rich display of art exhibited by the Lou- 
 vre. There are here none of those points of 
 view, from which the mind, as from a com- 
 manding station, may contemplate the immense 
 variety of objects presented to it ; none of 
 those beautiful gradations, which assist so 
 much the understanding in the operations of
 
 270 
 
 reasoning and comparison. The effect of the 
 perspective is interrupted by angles. Painting 
 and statuary occupy the same apartments, 
 and the specimens of the latter are placed 
 against a dead wall opposite lateral windows. 
 This last, it is true, was sometimes a defect 
 in the Louvre, but in general its statues were 
 so disposed, that the air circulated as freely 
 around them, as in an open garden. The 
 light, which is copiously admitted through the 
 immense windows of the Florentine gallery, 
 is too powerful and glaring for statuary. It 
 had a much softer effect in the lofty apart- 
 ments of the Louvre, and approached nearer 
 the mild radiance of the moon, whose pale- 
 ness gives so eloquent an expression to marble, 
 and in which the divine forms of sculpture ap- 
 pear to become animated. The great master- 
 pieces are enclosed in separate apartments, 
 that ought to have been brought into close 
 comparison with works of inferiour merit, 
 which should have formed around each of them 
 a species of court, where the gradations of 
 ranks would have been strikingly marked 
 by the presence of a standard, recognised 
 as supreme by the laws of taste, and the 
 suffrages of all ages. I speak here, however,
 
 271 
 
 only of the distribution of the Louvre, for 
 what collection of painting or statuary could 
 ever vie with it in point of extent, and in the 
 variety and value of its treasures? How far 
 the dispersion of its contents is likely to affect 
 the general taste, and whether the arts are 
 likely to decline in Europe, in consequence 
 of the distribution of each portion again, 
 to the particular country of whose taste 
 and genius it is characteristick, is another 
 question, and one which we may fairly sup- 
 pose was not wholly left out of view, in de- 
 termining the conduct of those, in whom all 
 recognise the right of conquest, if not a mo- 
 ral competence to preside over the interests 
 of Europe. 
 
 Much light is thrown upon the art of paint- 
 ing, by considering it in connexion with the 
 usages, customs and opinions of the countries 
 where it has been cultivated with the greatest 
 success, and by not only considering the influ- 
 ence on it, of society and manners, but also the 
 intimate relation which must ever subsist be- 
 tween it and those great and permanent fea- 
 tures by which nature has distinguished diffe- 
 rent sections of the globe. If it be admitted
 
 272 
 
 that the genius of an individual communicates 
 to painting and statuary, something peculiar and 
 character istick, how much more likely is it, 
 that the sources of those great leading and dis- 
 criminating features, which mark the manner 
 and style of painting of a particular country, are 
 to be found in its social customs and habits, 
 and in the physical properties of its soil and 
 climate. Had Claude Lorraine* gathered the 
 materials of his landscapes in his native coun- 
 try, he never could have dressed nature in such 
 enchanting colours ; and Salvator Rosa, if he 
 had studied nature on the extensive flats of Hol- 
 land, instead of contemplating her in the wild 
 Solitudes of Calabria, among caves inhabited 
 by the wolf and the outlaw, would have de- 
 lighted perhaps in portraying rich meadows and 
 herds of fat cattle feeding upon them. When 
 in Venice, the faces I saw in the pictures of 
 Titian and Paul Veronese, appeared to me to 
 be likenesses of those I met in the places of 
 
 " * His landscapes do not, like those of the Dutch 
 "painters, exhibit the cold portraiture of a prescribed 
 ** portion of a country. He soars above the servile repre- 
 sentation of ordinary nature, and transports his spec- 
 ulators into the regions of poetry and enchantment. 
 Bryan's Dictionary of Painters and Engravers.
 
 27S 
 
 St. Mark. But this is a doctrine, of which any 
 further illustration is unnecessary, by a reference 
 to particular examples. Its admission, how- 
 ever, leads almost necessarily to a conclusion 
 the very reverse of the opinion which fur- 
 nishes ground for unfavourable predictions 
 concerning the arts. If the study of nature be as 
 indispensible to the attainment of excellence in 
 painting as an acquaintance with its technical 
 rules, surely in this case nothing will contribute 
 more to enlighten the taste of the artist, than 
 for him to visit foreign countries and to com- 
 pare with the works of their eminent masters, 
 their local and characteristick beauties of scene- 
 ry and manners. A vast repository like that 
 of the Louvre, was certainly a great convenience. 
 It no doubt facilitated in a wonderful manner, 
 the acquisition of a certain portion of talent, 
 but it was not calculated to assist the progress 
 of the artist beyond mediocrity. In all those 
 arts where success depends chiefly upon the 
 powers of invention and imagination, by re- 
 moving difficulties and affording facilities, we 
 restrict them to a certain measure of excellence. 
 It is that confidence in its own powers of which 
 genius becomes conscious, in consequence of 
 its struggles with difficulty, that renders it dar- 
 ing and inventive. 
 
 36
 
 274 
 
 Pater ipse colendi 
 Haud facilem viam esse voluit.- 
 ■ 
 And if in the case of the humble and mechani- 
 cal employment of the husbandman, this truth 
 is illustrated, how much more strongly is it ex- 
 emplified in those arts where mediocrity and 
 dullness* are so nearly synonymous. 
 
 As a trophy the most splendid that could be 
 offered to the French, to flatter their passion for 
 military glory, and as a monument of nation- 
 al liberality and taste, the Louvre must be a 
 subject of inexhaustible regret to every patrio- 
 tick Frenchman. I am far from professing 
 to advocate the policy, which sanctions the 
 means by which its spoils were accumulated, 
 at the same time, when I reflect that many 
 of them were removed from situations, in 
 which their beauties were lost, and in which 
 they were exposed to the injurious influence 
 of humidity and smoke, and when I recol- 
 lect the fondness and veneration with which 
 the French people cherished these precious 
 acquisitions, I cannot in speaking of them, 
 
 * ? Mediocribus esse poetis 
 Ifon di, non homines, non concessere columnse.
 
 275 
 
 apply the appellation of robbers to those, who 
 chose as the proudest monument of the suc- 
 cess of their arms, the long venerated works 
 of genius, and who did not consider the su- 
 periority of their country over Europe as com- 
 plete, until they saw her in possession of those 
 treasures, which would render her absolute 
 likewise, in the empire of taste. 
 
 I traversed again the vestibule and descend- 
 ed the staircase, and admiring on my way the 
 works of genius, which here solicit the attention, 
 I found myself at length in the long portico 
 under the gallery, in which, as in the arcades 
 of the Palais Royale and St. Mark, are peo- 
 ple continully passing and repassing. I pro- 
 ceeded on towards the Arno, and turning to 
 the right, I stopped at the Ponte Vecchio to 
 view the airy and magnificent bridge of delta 
 Trinitd. It is built of marble and stands up- 
 on three eliptical arches. The four statues 
 that adorn it, are the four seasons of the 
 year. Winter is personified in the form of 
 a palsied and naked old man. On the Ponte 
 Vecchio, as upon the Rialto at Venice, are 
 shops filled, principally, with articles of jew- 
 elry. A number of peasant girls, distinguish- 
 ed by their hats and plumes, stood at the win-
 
 276 
 
 dows of these shops, admiring their display of 
 finery, and making purchases preparatory to 
 a fete to take place the following day, near 
 the city, on the banks of the Arno. At the 
 southern termination of this bridge, stands a 
 celebrated piece of sculpture, by Giovanni di 
 Bologna, representing Hercules vanquishing 
 Nessus. 
 
 Proceeding on, nearly in a direct line, I 
 arrived at the piazza before the palace Pitt?. 
 An opulent and aspiring individual of the 
 name of Pitti, jealous of the fortunes and 
 power of the Medici, intended by the erection 
 of this edifice to eclipse the palace Riccardi, 
 erected on a plan of Michael Angelo for the 
 great Cosmo. An insidious attempt made on 
 the life of Piero de Medici, as he was return- 
 ing to Florence from Careggi, and which was 
 baffled by an extraordinary instance of cou- 
 rage and presence of mind in Lorenzo, was 
 generally imputed to Pitti and his adherents. 
 The consequence of which was their disgrace, 
 and the triumph of the Medici. Pitti sunk 
 into contempt, and his superb mansion was 
 purchased by the family, whose influence he 
 had laboured to undermine.
 
 277 
 
 We see in the facade of the Pallazzo Pitti, 
 tliat character of strength, which, in general, 
 gives to the exteriour of the Florentine palaces 
 a heavy appearance, which ill agrees with the 
 light and graceful embellishments lavished in 
 their interiour. The stones with which it is 
 faced, give to the whole front a harsh and 
 rugged look, and although the designs of its 
 doors and windows are beautiful, they are so 
 few in number, as not to alleviate the hea- 
 vy and solid gloom of its walls, and to sof- 
 ten the air of sullen grandeur, that prevails 
 over the whole edifice. This style of architec- 
 ture, however, predominates only on the front 
 of the building exposed to the piazza. The 
 Cortile from which is seen the extensive gar- 
 dens of Boboliy presents to the eye the Gre- 
 cian orders in three several stories. The spa- 
 cious and delightful gardens, of which there 
 is a prospect from this cortile, were, when I 
 saw them, decked with all their charms. It 
 is difficult to imagine an appearance more 
 beautiful, than they made. Arbours and groves 
 echoing with the musick of birds, an air 
 impregnated with flowers and refreshed with 
 fountains, walks and alleys bordered with 
 statues, awakening in these delicious scenes, 
 the pictures of poetry and fable, and blending
 
 278 
 
 with the pleasures of sense, the delights of 
 fancy, were well fitted to banish discontent, 
 and to fill the mind with images of happi- 
 ness. 
 
 Ascending through walks encompassed with 
 thickets and foliage, the visitor is led on 
 to a commanding eminence, called the Belvi- 
 dere. From the coffee-house or Pavillion 
 which crowns it, there is a prospect of Flo- 
 rence and its environs — Monte Murello — the 
 ruins of Fiesole, and the cities of Prato and Pis- 
 toia. On the right extends the vale of Arno 
 in all its beauty, decorated with villages, cot- 
 tages and abbeys, and bounded to the north 
 by the wild and naked scenery of the Apennines, 
 upon the summit of one of which wave the 
 forests of Vallombrosa, 
 
 Where the Etrurian shades 
 High over arch'd embower. 
 
 Descending from the tower of the Belvidere, 
 and after wandering among beautiful parterres, 
 and through alleys darkened by an impene- 
 trable foliage of vines and laurels, the visitor 
 enters a spacious meadow, and at length ar- 
 rives at a magnificent fountain. A colossal
 
 279 
 
 statue of the god of the ocean, stands upon an 
 insulated basin of granite. Three figures repre- 
 senting the Nile, the Ganges and Euphrates, 
 pour their streams, around which are distri- 
 buted by means of various subterraneous pas- 
 sages to other fountains in the garden. 
 
 While the votaries of fashion prefer the gay 
 parades along the Arno> the gardens of Boboli 
 appear to be the favourite haunt of contempla- 
 tive minds. I saw many persons walking about 
 with books in their hands, and others who ap- 
 peared to be deeply engaged in the contempla- 
 tion of their own thoughts. The deep abstraction 
 and solitary enthusiasm depicted in the coun- 
 tenances and air of these figures, were strikingly 
 contrasted with the sprightly looks and spor- 
 tive gambols of some women and children, beau- 
 tiful as the statues that surrounded them, and 
 speaking a language as soft as the breeze, or 
 the murmurs of the fountain. 
 
 The palace Pitti is the residence of the pre- 
 sent grand Duke, and its interiour is fitted up 
 with great elegance. Its collection of pictures 
 appeared to me to surpass that of the publick 
 gallery, and is composed chiefly of pieces that 
 I had before seen in the Louvre. Its apart*
 
 280 
 
 merits are decorated with tables of porphyry 
 and oriental alabaster, inlaid with beautiful 
 imitations of fruits, flowers and shell-work, in 
 cornelian, agate, jasper and lapis-lazuli. But 
 the greatest Wonder of art it contains, is the 
 Venus of Canova. This artist modestly ob- 
 jected to its occupying the vacant pedestal of 
 the Venus de Medicis in the gallery, although 
 it is fully qualified to succeed to the latter, 
 and even dispute with it the prize of beau- 
 ty. A light drapery enveloped in her right 
 arm, falls in graceful folds, and shades her 
 right side as far as the middle of the leg. Like 
 the Venus de Medicis, this statue stoops 
 forward, and the head is turned to the left. 
 Its look, however, does not indicate the timi- 
 dity apparent in the air and attitude of the 
 Greek model, but expresses a mixed emotion 
 of modestv and complacencv. 
 
 At Florence there is a class of poetasters, 
 who, when a stranger arrives, wait upon him 
 and present him with a copy of- verses, cele- 
 brating his visit to the banks of the Arno. The 
 morning after my arrival, the cameriere entered 
 my apartment, and desired to know if I would 
 allow him to introduce to me one of these sons 
 of Apollo. The poet made his appearance and
 
 281 
 
 addressed me with all the courtesy characteris- 
 tick of a Florentine, and the purport of his 
 discourse was to explain to me the nature and 
 object of a little book which he held in his hand, 
 and which he begged me to accept. Upon open- 
 ing it, I laughed to find my name inscribed in 
 the title page, with many appellations of honour 
 prefixed to it, and my character exalted with 
 every extravagant epithet of verse. I told my 
 panegyrist that he had mistaken my rank and 
 condition, that I was neither lord nor baro- 
 net, but a plain bourgeois, and to be made the 
 subject of an Italian sonnet was an honour I 
 never dreamed of, and to which I could not 
 aspire. His countenance, which had narrowly 
 watched mine, fell at this intelligence, and he 
 was making preparations to retire, but as I per- 
 ceived by his dress 
 
 How hard it is to climb 
 The steep, where fame's proud temple shines afar, 
 
 — and as I was upon the banks of the Arno, the 
 Arcadia of Italy, and consequently enamoured 
 with every thing in the shape of poetry, I call- 
 ed him ba> k, and begged him to accept a tri- 
 fling donation. His eyes sparkled with plea- 
 sure, Apollo descended upon him, and unable 
 37
 
 282 
 
 to shake off the mighty influence of the god, 
 he placed himself in an oratorical attitude and 
 declaimed some verses extempore. 
 
 The talent of improvisation is not confined 
 to Italy, although it is here more frequently and 
 naturally called into activity than in other 
 countries. His freedom from social restraints 
 co-operating with the charms of his climate, 
 render the Italian peculiarly susceptible of live- 
 ly and passionate feelings, and endow him 
 with a high degree of poetical sensibility. The 
 vowel terminations also of the Italian language, 
 — its transpositive character — the extent and 
 variety of its powers with regard to poetical 
 harmony, renders it a very powerful and flexible 
 instrument in the hand of an extemporaneous 
 poet or declaimer, and to the readiness with 
 which the language of Italy furnishes the poet, 
 with a diction at once splendid and various, 
 may be added the power of its classick scenes, 
 to touch the heart and inspire the fancy. 
 
 The celebrated Carlo Marone> who flou- 
 rished in the court of Leo the tenth, is said 
 to have extemporised in latin hexameters, and 
 in the boldness of his metaphors and the rich- 
 ness of his imagery, to have rivalled some of
 
 283 
 
 the most admired passages of the Roman poets. 
 The genius of this extraordinary man may 
 have enabled him, to vanquish the difficul- 
 ties with which he must have struggled in 
 composing impromptu, under the restraints of 
 ancient prosody. When the subject proposed 
 was of a serious and lofty kind, he commenc* 
 ed by a regular exordium, and as he proceed- 
 ed his impassioned looks, voice and gesture, 
 bore evidence of genuine inspiration. Persons, 
 who possess this talent, when properly kindled 
 by their subject, realise Virgil's description of 
 the frantick prophetess of Cumasa. Their 
 eyes roll with a fine poetick phrenzy, their 
 looks and voice become more than human, 
 and the picturesque effect of their gestures, 
 give additional force and beauty to the glowing 
 language of an inspired imagination. Those 
 who have witnessed the recitations of Gianni, 
 give this account of the manner of that illustri- 
 ous improvisators It is also worthy of re- 
 mark, that this man, the spontaneous effusions 
 of whose genius were heard with so much de- 
 light and wonder, has left nothing composed? 
 in the retirement of the closet, which can chal- 
 lenge a similar degree of admiration. Madame 
 Mazzei, a Florentine lady, of an ancient and 
 illustrious family, like Carlo Marone, is ano-
 
 284 
 
 ther example to prove, that the wonderful in- 
 ventive powers displayed by some Italian im- 
 provisator^ are not ascribable altogether to 
 the facilities afforded by the Italian language, 
 when employed as a vehicle ef poetick sen- 
 timent. She, occasionally, made choice of 
 some of the most difficult measures of Ita- 
 lian poetry, and recited with an equal com- 
 mand of expression, in the magnificent oc- 
 taves of Tasso, the solemn tiercets of Dante, 
 and the loose and unconstrained numbers of 
 Metastasio. 
 
 A serene sky J that darted its beams into my 
 apartment, and a softly undulating atmosphere, 
 announced one of those fine mornings, not 
 unusual in Tuscany. I directed my steps to 
 the borders of the Arno, and joined the mul- 
 titude that was passing through the Porta al 
 Prato. I arrived among the groves that shade 
 the borders of the river, and hailed the stream, 
 to whose murmurs Milton used to listen with 
 delight, and upon whose banks shaded by 
 poplars, and strewed with violets, he was wont 
 to lay and court the Tuscan muse, 
 
 Canto del mio buon popolo non inteso, 
 E'l bel, Tamigi cangio col bel Arno.
 
 285 
 
 As I proceeded onward, I perceived tents erect- 
 ed, and tables covered with refreshments, and 
 old men and women with flowers in their hats, 
 and children gambolling before them upon the 
 green ; with these were intermixed dancing 
 groups, whose graceful and debonair steps 
 were expressive of light hearts and animated 
 feelings. The aristocracy of wealth and fa- 
 shion drove up, in their splendid equipages, to 
 this scene, and contemplated it from the win- 
 dows of their carriages, or descended among 
 the dancers upon the green. 
 
 That proud fastidiousness, with which the 
 noble and opulent of other countries are apt 
 to look down upon the amusements of the 
 lower orders, and which is not less character- 
 istick of a want of taste, than of an unnatural 
 insensibility, which refuses to sympathize with 
 the pleasures or sorrows of the poor, is a trait 
 which does not mark the higher classes in Ita- 
 ly, however, some circumstances may seem to 
 favour the supposition of such a feature in their 
 character. Nor is this the only instance, in 
 which nature in Italy triumphs over the pre- 
 judices and artificial distinctions of society. 
 Marriages contracted under these prejudices, 
 in which the considerations of familv and
 
 286 
 
 wealth remove the greatest inequalities, that may 
 exist in point of age and natural disposition, 
 lead to the violation of the nuptial vow, and her 
 example may teach America, where marriage 
 chastity is yet guarded by the simplicity of 
 her manners, and the republican purity of her 
 laws, how necessarily the loss of this virtue, 
 and of all the domestick honours and cdmforts 
 connected with it, follow those pernicious in* 
 stitutions, which uphold the proud pretensions 
 of family and wealth. 
 
 The exteriour of many of the churches of 
 Florence yet remain unfinished. Santa Croce, 
 Santo Spirito and St. Lorenzo, possess no ex- 
 ternal magnificence. Even the front of the 
 Duomo is yet naked, and the columns sketch- 
 ed upon it, are a mockery which degrades this 
 noble edifice. Its exteriour is encrusted with 
 black and white marble, and over it rises that 
 superb dome, which was designed by the im- 
 mortal BunellescOy and within view of which 
 Michael Angelo desired to be buried. The 
 character of its interiour is sombre and severe. 
 Its windows of painted glass, throw over its 
 tombs and altars a dim religious light, which 
 accords with the mysteries of religion and 
 the solemnity of prayer. Its dome was painted
 
 287 
 
 by Vasari, and represents, in great detail, the 
 scene of the day of judgment. The figures, when 
 seen from below, appear not to exceed the 
 proportions qf nature, but viewed from the 
 galleries above, they are frightfully gigantick. 
 The solemn grandeur of this ancient cathe- 
 dral, is not a little increased by the recollec- 
 tion, that its pavement was stained with the 
 blood of Juliana de Medici, and that its walls 
 witnessed the last desperate, but ineffectual 
 struggles, that were made for the liberties of 
 Florence. 
 
 Directly in front of this cathedral stands the 
 baptistery, celebrated for its portals of bronze, 
 on which Ghiberti, with a patience almost in- 
 credible, has engraven a series of scriptural' 
 events, and crowded into a small compass 
 an infinite variety of figures all marked with 
 the expression of life. The merit of the 
 sculpture displayed on these doors filled Mi- 
 chael Angelo with wonder, and prompted him 
 to declare with the enthusiasm of an artist, that 
 they were worthy of being the gates of Para- 
 dise. 
 
 In the sacristy at the church of St. Lorenzo, 
 are the statues of the Medicis bv Michael An-
 
 288 
 
 gelo. That of Lorenzo is meditating vengeance 
 for his brother, who fell under the dagger of 
 the Pazzi at the altar of the cathedral. Be- 
 neath them are forms of Night and Aurora. 
 The figure of Night denotes, that death is a 
 sleep, but the presence of Aurora intimates 
 that it is not an eternal sleep. The unfinished 
 chapel, belonging to the same family, of mar- 
 ble and inlaid with precious stones, bespeaks a 
 degree of private opulence, of which Italy at 
 present furnishes no example. This splendid 
 mausoleum stands above the vaults destined for 
 the reception of the mortal remains of the family 
 whose name it bears. They lie in coffins piled 
 one upon the other. I expressed my surprise at 
 the indecent manner in which these revered re- 
 mains were suffered to lie huddled together, to 
 the person who attended me, he replied, that the 
 cares of the present grand Duke were so much 
 occupied with the wants of the living, that he 
 had no leisure to attend to concerns of the dead. 
 Here is the celebrated Laurentian library, in 
 which were deposited the treasures of ancient li- 
 terature, collected under the auspices of the 
 Medicis. In this library were lodged the fa- 
 mous pandects of Justinian found at Amalji.
 
 289 
 
 The church of Santa Croce, is the West- 
 minster Abbey of Florence. It contains the 
 tombs of Michael Angelo, Machiavelli, Gali- 
 leo, Boccacio, and Alfieri, names that will be 
 revered and cherished, as long as the arts and 
 Italian literature shall continue to be cultivated. 
 
 After indulging the recollections inspired 
 by the tombs of Santa Croce, the admirer of 
 classick literature, may visit the brow of Fiesole 
 and the delightful villas of Careggi Poggio 
 Caiano and Pratolino, scenes that were the hal- 
 lowed haunts of the Tuscan muse, and conse- 
 crated by the names of Politian, Lorenzo and 
 Picusdi Mirandula.* 
 
 Florence has been the theatre of the fiercest 
 factions, and family feuds have given a par- 
 ticular conformation to the palaces of its nobi- 
 lity. Here the Bianchi and JVeri furiously con- 
 tended, and the Guelphs and the Ghibelines al- 
 ternately assassinated and banished each other. 
 But let us not forget the powerful spirits that 
 
 * The extraordinary endowments and acquirements 
 of Picus di Jlirandula, are expressed in the appellation 
 monstrum sine vitio, by which this wonderful man was 
 frequently designated. 
 
 38
 
 290 
 
 rode the waves of these political storms, nor 
 those intellectual heroes who issued from the 
 bosom of this tempestuous republick. Here 
 Machiavelli gathered the most valuable mate- 
 rials of his immortal writings. It was the birth 
 place of Dante the father of Italian poetry, 
 whose comprehensive mind has mixed with the 
 tcrrifick visions of a future world, the event- 
 ful scenes of the past. 
 
 Political strife is the nurse of valour and of 
 genius. The talents of Epaminondas, Cicero 
 and Ceesar, were cradled in the bosom of ci- 
 vil dissention, and Virgil and Horace, although 
 they brought to the shrine of despotism the 
 choicest offerings of their muse, yet they had 
 witnessed the struggles of expiring freedom, 
 and saw its last remains scattered to the winds. 
 Let any one listen to the strains of the bard, 
 who sang obsequies of Roman liberty and say, 
 whether the narcotick gloom that succeeded its 
 extinction, was not as well calculated to damp 
 the flame of poetick inspiration as to subdue 
 the spirit of the warrior, and to degrade the 
 eloquence of the orator.
 
 291 
 
 'The evening I left Florence -was serene, and 
 the mellow colouring diffused over every ob- 
 ject by the setting sun, gave a peculiar rich- 
 ness to the features of its glowing scenery. 
 A succession of beautiful landscapes illumi- 
 nated by the softer rays of twilight, continu- 
 ed to offer themselves to view, until the day 
 totally disappeared. Nor did the night dis- 
 close a spectacle less wonderful, than that of 
 the day had been beautiful. The atmosphere 
 swarmed with the large fire fly of Tuscany, 
 which rose from the neighbouring fields, and 
 filled the air with particles of living fire. I 
 have seldom, even in America, seen this phe- 
 nomenon exhibited on a scale so magnificent. 
 
 The second night after leaving Florence, 
 I arrived at the lake of Bolsena. I lamented 
 that I was obliged to pass an object so remark- 
 able, at an hour when it was invisible. But
 
 292 
 
 in the course of my return from Rome to 
 Florence, I had an opportunity of seeing it 
 in all its grandeur and beauty. The day was 
 stormy, and the surface of the lake was tos- 
 sing like a sea, the distant woods that over- 
 hung its shores were dark and terrifick, with 
 the black clouds that hovered above them, 
 and its islands, which were clothed with a 
 thick verdure, were enveloped in the same 
 deep and sombre colouring. The waves roll- 
 ed with a wild and hollow sound to the shore, 
 and the thunder, which was heard at intervals 
 accompanying the roar of the lake, gave an 
 additional grandeur to the scene. The aspect 
 of the country in the immediate vicinity of 
 this lake is extremely wild, and even if I had not 
 heard that it was infested with banditti, I could 
 not have imagined a scene or an hour more 
 fitted for them to appear. Salvator Rosa's 
 fancy could not have formed a picture more 
 romantically wild, and which a group of ban- 
 ditti would have graced with more effect. Bol- 
 sena stands upon the ruins of Falsinium, the 
 capital of the ancient Volsci. The artificial 
 grottoes and quarries of Puzzolana y that are 
 near the ruined village of St. Lorenzo, assist 
 the terrifick apprehensions of the traveller, who, 
 independent of the fearful tales he has heard,.
 
 293 
 
 readily imagines them the haunts of robbers. 
 The desolated village of St. Lorenzo is a re- 
 markable object, and I could not help turn, 
 ing frequently to observe its picturesque effect, 
 as the carriage proceeded slowly up the hill 
 that overlooks it, and as its scene of dilapi- 
 dated walls and houses, surmounted by the 
 tottering spire of a church, seen from diffe- 
 rent points of view, varied its appearance. It 
 was evening before we arrived at a second 
 village of the same name, to which the inha- 
 bitants of the former were transferred, on ac- 
 count of the insalubrity of the atmosphere. 
 The tardiness, with which the vehicle moved 
 on, suffered me leisurely to inspect the fea- 
 tures of the landscape. The moon was now 
 up, and diffused a softened light over the tops 
 of the woods, that swept down to the shores 
 of the lake, whose broad expanse, no lon- 
 ger vexed by the hurricane, reflected, like a 
 mirrour, all the effulgence of an Italian sky. 
 
 To a mind accustomed to connect the idea 
 of beauty with utility, the environs of Home 
 must appear to be destitute of all claims what- 
 ever, to the epithet of beautiful. This soil so 
 fertile in illustrious events, and so full of inte-
 
 
 294 
 
 rest to a warm and pregnant imagination, must 
 be displeasing in a high degree, to the taste of 
 a professed agriculturist. So great an extent of 
 country lying waste and idle, raises ideas 
 which overpower in his mind the influence of 
 classick images and feelings. He encounters 
 no objects that indicate a frugal and laborious 
 population, or any of those substantial com- 
 forts, upon which the poet has laid so peculiar 
 a stress, in describing the beauties of cultivat- 
 ed nature, in a country which possesses be- 
 yond all others the attractions of rural elegance. 
 
 On every hand 
 Thy villas shine, thy country teems with wealth. 
 And property assures it to the swain, 
 Pleased, and unwearied in his guarded toil. 
 
 Nor is the first view of this city more in uni- 
 son with the feelings of a mere man of the 
 world* How different are his sensations in ap- 
 proaching Rome, from those he experiences 
 on entering Paris, Venice or Florence ! But 
 to a mind imbued with the liberal arts, which 
 has been accustomed to connect with visible 
 objects, the visions and scenes of time past, and 
 to which the monuments of ancient greatness are 
 endeared by the force of sentiment and imagi-
 
 295 
 
 nation, how awful, how impressive, is the de- 
 solate Campagna that surrounds the fallen ca- 
 pital of the world ! 
 
 I crossed the Tiber at the Ponte Mihio, 
 two miles from the city, and entered Rome 
 by the Porta del Popolo. It opens upon a square 
 adorned with an obelisk. Here the Via Fla- 
 minia ends and Via Lata commences and takes 
 the name of the Corso. My attention was 
 drawn by a procession of carriages, which en- 
 tered the piazza, and after circling the obelisk in 
 the centre, returned down on the left of the Cor- 
 so. This is the fashionable promenade at Rome, 
 and exhibits nothing of the tumult of London 
 or the gaiety of Paris. I joined the procession, 
 which carried me down the Corso as far as the 
 open space which surrounds the column of An- 
 tonine. Shaded by the dimness of twilight, this 
 colossal monument, towering in the air, seemed 
 to frown upon the works of modern art around 
 it. If I may be permitted to make the com- 
 parison, how well did its lonely and insulated 
 grandeur, harmonize with those solitary emo- 
 tions I felt, in the midst of a crowd to which I 
 was utterly unknown, whose views and inte- 
 rests had no connexion with mine, and from 
 whom I seemed not less detached bv educa-
 
 296 
 
 tion, habits and country. I was frequently on the 
 point of inquiring the way to an inn, and over- 
 powered by the influence of this gloomy senti- 
 ment, my tongue seemed to refuse its ordina- 
 ry office, and to resist the impulse of the will. 
 These melancholy impressions, operating upon 
 a frame languid with fatigue, were, however, 
 themselves soon exhausted, and nature admi- 
 nistered that restorative of the mind, which 
 has called forth in praise of its inventor, one 
 of the happiest effusions of Sancho Panzd's 
 eloquence. 
 
 The Doge of Genoa, when he visited Ver- 
 sailles, said ce qui irfetonne le plus ici c'est de 
 rrCy voir. It was under the influence of a 
 similar scepticism, that I awoke the first morn- 
 ing in Rome. For some time, I could scarce- 
 ly persuade myself that I was so near St. Pe- 
 ter's, that in an hour I should behold the Coli- 
 seum, and stand upon the site of the ancient 
 capitol, where the genius of Rome dispersed 
 her triumphant eagles over the world, and 
 where her victorious generals received their 
 laurels. Over my bed hung a cross and a 
 copy of the Madonna del/a Sedia, and opposite, 
 a fine full length portrait of Lambertini Bene-
 
 297 
 
 edict the fourteenth. The brilliant rays that 
 were darted against the windows of the apart- 
 ment, announced the resplendant sun of Ita- 
 ly. Yes ! I exclaimed to myself this is Rome ! 
 
 *** Passing through a succession of narrow 
 and dirty streets, the carriage stopped, at length, 
 at the foot of the staircase leading to the capi- 
 tol. This staircase is adorned with objects, 
 that awaken interesting recollections. The mo- 
 dern edifice, that occupies the site of the an. 
 cient capitol, is a performance of Michael An~ 
 gelo, and unworthy of his genius. Before it 
 stands an equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius. 
 How composed and calm it appears, in the 
 midst of ruins that encompass it. Time, which 
 has levelled about it the proudest structures 
 of art, has not disturbed a single feature of 
 its mild and majestick countenance. The 
 stoical grandeur, that marks the aspect of this 
 figure, is not more admirable, than the life, 
 spirit and grace of the horse upon which it 
 sits. "March," said Carlo Maratti to it, 
 " do you forget that you live ?" 
 
 Upon this hill Manlius resisted the Gauls, 
 and the Tarpeian rock, from which he was 
 precipitated, is upon its borders ; a few pa- 
 
 39
 
 398 
 
 ces only separate the scene of his glory and nis 
 punishment. Behind the capitol was the forum ; 
 and the ruins of temples, palaces and triumphal 
 arches, which surround this hallowed spot, do 
 not inspire any emotion so grand, as those excit- 
 ed by the recollection, that it was once the cho- 
 sen the sanctuary of freedom. No object can 
 exceed in moral grandeur that senate house, 
 where liberty reigned, and upon the floor of 
 which she expired. In sight of this senate 
 house stood the temple of Jupiter Stator, three 
 columns of whose portico are yet standing. 
 Jt was to this that the sublime address of Ci- 
 cero was directed, when unveiling to the se- 
 nate the secret transactions of Cataline's ruf- 
 fian band, and anxious for the safety of Rome, 
 he invoked the protection of her tutelary 
 divinity. 
 
 The fragments of Nero's palace, and the 
 temple of the sun, the temple of peace, the 
 Coliseum and the palace of the Caesars, are 
 the works of the empire. They are splendid 
 but terrifick monuments of a force that en- 
 slaved mankind, and the dark picture of Ro- 
 man servitude, as drawn by Tacitus, recurs to 
 the fancy, in contemplating these ruined struc- 
 tures which only the hand of a powerful des-
 
 299 
 
 potism could have reared. The genius of the 
 imperial government is personified in these 
 proud remains of its physical strength, which 
 are associated in their influence over the mind, 
 with that moral and intellectual gloom into which 
 after a summer's day of glory, the sun of Ro- 
 man liberty descended, crimsoned with blood 
 and shame. 
 
 The palace of the Casars covers Mount 
 Palantine with its ruins. Underneath them lie 
 the baths of Livia ; the paintings that ornament 
 the walls and ceilings, are still fresh and beau- 
 tiful. It was in these voluptuous apartments, 
 that Augustus in his old age, betrayed in his 
 domestick affections, and poisoned by his 
 wife, the pander of his criminal appetites, ter- 
 minated his existence. The Farnesian gardens 
 erected by Paul the third, grace at present this 
 shapeless mass of ruins. The vine adorns 
 it with luxuriant festoons, and the sweetest 
 flowers spring from a source polluted with the 
 rankness of human crimes. 
 
 The Coliseum was built by Vespasian after 
 his victory over the Jews. Twelve thousand 
 captives brought from Jerusalem to Rome, 
 assisted in the construction of this vast fabrick.
 
 500 
 
 In the reign of Nero its arena was dyed 
 with the blood of the christian martyrs. It 
 rivalled in magnificence, the most splendid 
 edifices of antiquity, and even now casts into 
 the shade, all but the unequalled majesty of St. 
 Peters. It long supplied materials for the con- 
 struction of other edifices, and the rude hands 
 of hostile invaders have not more defaced it 
 than the barbarism of those, who looked upon 
 it only as a quarry, furnishing in inexhaustible 
 profusion the treasures of ancient art. Paul 
 the third demolished a considerable portion of 
 it for these purposes, and in consequence of 
 this act of pontifical barbarism, the Romans 
 couple the words barbari and Barberini. Some 
 of his successors, however, have endeavoured 
 to rescue the noble edifice from ruin, and an 
 immense wall built by the present pope, sus- 
 tains that part of it which is yet entire. 
 
 The effect of these majestick ruins is greatest 
 when they are illuminated by the moon. Ob- 
 jects which time and violence have not yet mu- 
 tilated, and in which we see the actual triumph 
 of human energy over the elements, lose none 
 of their magnificence when dressed in the splen- 
 dour of the sun. But the sombre twilight of 
 the moon, gives to the aspect of desolation
 
 301 
 
 a melancholy expression, which speaks forci- 
 bly to the fancy and the heart. The pale 
 and uncertain lustre which then reveals the 
 face of things, conspires, with the silence of the 
 hour, to aid the power of illusion, and diffuses 
 over the objects of time past, a mysterious 
 charm that realizes the visions of imagination. 
 
 The second morning after my arrival, II set 
 out with a vast in my hand and a cicerone at 
 my elbow, to view the churches of modern 
 Rome. It is in the magnificence of her church- 
 es that modern Rome stands unrivalled. The 
 prodigious multitude of domes, steeples and 
 obelisks that rise in the air, give it an aspect of 
 grandeur possessed by no other city in the 
 world. Viewed from the deserted Campagna 
 that surrounds it, how majestick and imposing 
 is its appearance. The superiority of taste dis- 
 played in the construction of its religious edi- 
 fices, may in a great measure be ascribed to 
 those incomparable models of architecture which 
 the ravages of barbarism have spared, and 
 which even in their present mutilated condi- 
 tion are the wonder of the universe. 
 
 While the taste of ether nations yet dis- 
 played symptoms of the rudest barbarism, the
 
 302 
 
 Roman capital retained some portion of its 
 love for that purity and simplicity, which in 
 this art distinguishes the masterpieces of an- 
 cient genius. Yet even in Rome, so rich in 
 ancient specimens of taste, we find a conside- 
 rable departure from the style of the most ap- 
 proved patterns of Greek and Roman architec- 
 ture. A disposition to encumber their works 
 with frivolous ornament, discovers itself in the 
 ablest productions of the moderns. In vain 
 did Bramante and Michael Angelo labour to 
 explode this gothick taste. They were them- 
 selves carried along by its influence, and oblig- 
 ed to conform to it. 
 
 As the christians observed in the forms of 
 their churches, in some measure, the rules of 
 Greek and Roman architecture, we may safe- 
 ly infer, that the splendour of this art in Italy 
 during the prevalence of the dark ages, was not 
 totally eclipsed. Many of the churches which 
 I shall afterwards enumerate, have a grandeur 
 in their interiour conformation, that demon- 
 strates by how natural a transition the mo-" 
 derns were led to copy the imposing magni- 
 tude and spaciousness of the ancient temples. 
 Many of the ancient Basiliccs were transform- 
 ed into churches, and so convenient were
 
 303 
 
 the form and distribution of these edifices 
 found to be, that in many instances they 
 have been adhered to, and some of the mo- 
 dern christian temples illustrate points of an- 
 tiquarian research, relative to this particular 
 class of buildings. 
 
 In viewing some of the churches of Rome, 
 the ruinous and neglected appearance of their 
 exteriour, produces an unpleasing effect, when 
 contrasted with the splendour and magnificence 
 of their interiour. I have already remarked a 
 similar circumstance at Florence, where the 
 facade of the great cathedral, and the churches 
 of Spirito Santo and Santa Croce and St. Lo- 
 renzo, look as if they had been divested of 
 their external beauty by barbarian violence. 
 The decline of the Florentine republick, and 
 the poverty which of course ensued, account 
 satisfactorily for the unfinished state in which 
 these noble specimens of architecture are suf- 
 fered to remain. But at Rome it would seem, 
 that they considered the outward decorations 
 of their churches, as of little moment, com- 
 pared with those which surround the altar, 
 or give effect to the colonnades of the nave 
 and aisles. The churches of St. Paolo fuori
 
 304 
 
 delle Mura, St. Sebastian and St. Laurence, 
 are examples of this observation. It is diffi- 
 cult to express the disappointment felt in com- 
 paring the air of ruin and desolation, that 
 surrounds the outside of St. Pao/o, with the 
 fastuous ornaments that environ the altar, and 
 the overwhelming grandeur of its four co- 
 lonnades, as they present themselves to a spec- 
 tator placed in the chancel. The exteriour of 
 Santa Maria Maggiore exhibited the same 
 naked appearance, until Benedict the fourteenth 
 (Lambertini) clothed it in its present magni- 
 ficence. 
 
 The ancient temples sometimes furnished the 
 christians with a place to celebrate the rites 
 of their religion. Here were altars already 
 raised, and considering that the worship of the 
 catholick religion endeavours, like the super- 
 stition it banished, to captivate and impress 
 the external senses, a circumstance, perhaps, 
 indispensable in the most intellectual of all 
 religions, the conversion of the former abodes 
 of the pagan idols, into the temples of the 
 living God, does not appear to have required 
 the removal of any powerful prejudices. 
 
 Where the ruins of ancient temples have 
 been converted into churches, their svmmetry
 
 305 
 
 has been destroyed by the modern engraft- 
 ments, and exhibit, in some instances, a de- 
 pravity of taste unaccountable in those, who 
 had constantly before them the standard works 
 of antiquity. But, here we must pause, enough 
 has been said concerning defects, on which 
 it is almost impious to dwell, in a city, decided- 
 ly the queen of all others, as it respects, in 
 general, the architectural beauty of her edi- 
 fices, and particularly the magnificence of her 
 churches. Even Florence and Venice, cele- 
 brated as they are for the sumptuousness of 
 their palaces, and the gorgeous magnificence 
 of their churches, are thrown into the shade 
 by the architectural splendours of modern 
 Rome. 
 
 I shall now enumerate some of the principal 
 ehurches in Rome, and endeavour, as I pass 
 them successively in review, to mark their 
 prominent and characteristick features. 
 
 St. Pietro in vincoli — St. Peter in chains, for 
 under its altar is said to be deposited the holy 
 manacles and chains that bound St. Peter. 
 It is remarkable for the splendour of its sepul- 
 chral monuments, and its b- autiful Dorick 
 colonnade of the marble of Paros. Its most 
 40
 
 306 
 
 conspicuous ornament, however, is the cele- 
 brated statue of Moses, by Michael Angelo, 
 which graces the tomb of Julius the second. 
 This statue, the dome of St. Peter's, and the 
 picture of the Day of Judgment in the Sis- 
 tine chapel, are the three great pillars of Mi- 
 chael Angela's fame. Its attitude of majes- 
 tick repose, the expressive form of its mouth, 
 the full and waving beard that falls down to 
 its girdle, are characteristicks of that grand style, 
 which Michael Angela introduced into paint- 
 ing,; statuary and architecture. Indeed the whole 
 composition of this statue is worthy of him 
 alone, to whose genius Italy is indebted for 
 the sublimest edifice on earth, and the no- 
 blest style of painting. 
 
 Within the church of St. Sebastian is the 
 entrance to the cemetary of Caiixtus or the 
 catacombs. This suite of subterranean apart- 
 ments is fitted to inspire the visitor with hor- 
 rour. The multitude of narrow and perplexed 
 passages he encounters, and the silence that 
 reigns over these mansions of the dead, but 
 above all the idea that these gloomy and cheer- 
 less caverns afforded, in the early periods of 
 Christianity, an asylum from persecution, and 
 that it was amidst their pestilential vapours and
 
 307 
 
 unwholesome damps the early christians cele- 
 brated the rites of their religion, diffuses over the 
 mind that species of pleasure shaded with hor- 
 rour and melancholy, which, when it does not 
 press too powerfully, gives rise to no unpleas- 
 ing sensation. 
 
 Few churches enjoy a prospect more beau- 
 tiful and extensive than that which is seen from 
 the eminence on which stands St. Pietro dl 
 Montorio. It is sufficient in praise of this 
 church to say, that Raphael painted for it the 
 transfiguration, and that the paintings which 
 adorn one of its chapels, were executed after 
 the designs of Michael Angelo. The master- 
 piece of Raphael which was suspended over 
 the great altar, has long formed one of the chief 
 ornaments in the musee imperiale of Paris. Its 
 arrival at the gates of Rome, was hailed with a 
 lively enthusiasm. The possession of Raphael's 
 most esteemed production excited more vivid 
 emotions in this people than the liberation of 
 their city from the despotism of France. The 
 political greatness of Rome exists no more. No 
 longer ambitious of governing the world, she 
 is content to dictate to it the laws of taste ; yet 
 jealous of that glory which her artists have ac- 
 eraired for her, she cherishes as sacred every
 
 308 
 
 memorial of their fame. In the eourt formed 
 by the convent and the church, stands a 
 beautiful little temple of the Dorick order, 
 remarkable for its being a happy imitation of 
 the antique. Its form is circular, and its en- 
 tablature and domes are supported by sixteen 
 columns of dark granite. Bramante was the 
 architect. It is said to be erected upon the 
 very spot, were St. Peter received from hea- 
 ven the palm of martyrdom. 
 
 The beautiful remains of the temple of 
 Vesta, that stand near the borders of the Tiber, 
 have been converted into the church of Madon- 
 na del Sole. The Corinthian columns of Parian 
 marble forming a circular portico, divested 
 of their entablature, and the unsightly roof 
 they support, shew that the artist was totally 
 devoid of taste, under whose direction it 
 was repaired. Mr. Eustace, who saw it when 
 the bases and part of the shafts of its co- 
 lumns were buried in the earth, conjectures 
 that the frieze and cornice of the entablature, 
 lay concealed beneath this mass of rubbish, 
 which once probably formed part of the build- 
 ing. The late French government has caused 
 this earth to be removed, and the lower part 
 of the colonnade now stands uncovered, but
 
 309 
 
 I did not learn that any of the ornaments of 
 the entablature had been discovered. The 
 most probable idea is, that as they must have 
 been of extraordinary beauty, they were car- 
 ried off to enrich other buildings. 
 
 Not far distant, stands the ruins of the tem- 
 ple of For tuna Virilis, erected by Servius Tul- 
 lius, who from an obscure station rose to the 
 dignity of king — now the church of Santa 
 Maria Egiziaca. 
 
 The superb ruins of the temple of Anto- 
 ninus and Faustina in the Forum Romanum, 
 are now dedicated to a saint under the name 
 of the church of St. Lorenzo in Miranda. 
 The remains of it are an extensive Corinthian 
 portico, composed of columns of one entire 
 piece of that marble, anciently called lapis 
 caristius. These columns are surmounted by 
 an immense entablature, the frieze of which 
 js richly decorated. This temple, which the 
 senate ordered to be built in the Via sacra, 
 and to be consecrated to the memory of Anto- 
 ninus Pius and his wife Faustina, is still a 
 conspicuous object, even in the vicinity of 
 the Coliseum, and in the midst of the aston- 
 ishing scene of ruined grandeur, which sur- 
 rounds it.
 
 310 
 
 The church of St. Clement is a very ancient 
 edifice, and in its interiour arrangement, re- 
 sembles the models of the ancient Basilica. 
 As it is as old as the fourth century, it was 
 probably constructed upon the plan of the 
 Basilica;, many of which after the Roman em- 
 pire embraced Christianity, were converted in- 
 to the church. From it we may learn after 
 what pattern the earliest churches were built, a 
 pattern which seems at least in Italy, to have 
 been closely followed ever since. The place 
 allotted for the tribune, and the marble seat of 
 the clergy. The insulated position of the 
 great altar — the space occupied by the chan- 
 cel — and the two marble pulpits on each side 
 anciently denominated ambones, from which 
 the sacred volume used to be read and ex- 
 pounded, are genuine marks of high antiquity. 
 
 The church of St. Onofrio is enobled by 
 the circumstances of its containing the tomb of 
 Tasso. A simple latin inscription designates the 
 spot where this illustrious poet lies buried. 
 We are naturally led to inquire, why the fa- 
 vourite poet of Italy has not been honoured with 
 a more splendid memorial of publick affec- 
 tion. Alternately the object of the caresses 
 and hatred of a prince, after a series of mis-
 
 311 
 
 fortunes he died in the convent of St. Onq/rio, 
 the night preceding the day fixed for his coro- 
 nation in the capitol. Even in the grave mis- 
 fortune seemed to pursue him. For a long 
 time his remains lay undistinguished among 
 the vulgar dead, and before the monument 
 was commenced which the cardinal Cinthio Al- 
 dobrandini had determined to erect to his me- 
 mory, his illustrious patron himself was sum- 
 moned to the tomb. Death by wresting from 
 him first a crown and then a monument, rob- 
 bed him each time of a distinction which 
 might have been coveted by any poet possess. 
 ed of less renown than Tasso. 
 
 A traveller of the least pretensions to taste, 
 would be inexcusable, who in an enumeration 
 of the antiquities of Rome, should overlook 
 the church dedicated to the memory of St. Ce- 
 cilia. Her genius has been deified by the pen 
 of Dryden, and her beauty immortalized by the 
 pencil of Raphael. Connected with the church 
 is the apartment, in which St. Cecilia suffered 
 martyrdom. The theatre of this pathetick 
 tragedy, is now decorated with landscapes by 
 Paul Brill. The great altar is adorned with 
 a canopy supported by four columns of black 
 and white marble. Upon it reposes the figure
 
 312 
 
 of St. Cecilia in the embraces of death. A 
 light thin drapery is thrown over the body, and 
 through this delicate veil the contours of the 
 countenance are visible. This beautiful piece 
 of sculpture is by Stephen Maderno. 
 
 Upon the ground supposed to have been oc- 
 cupied formerly bv the mansion of Gregory 
 the great, a church was erected to his memory. 
 It was subsequently embellished and enlarged 
 by Cardinal Scipio Borghese, and finally rebuilt 
 after the plans of Francis Ferrari. From the 
 terrace adjoining this church, is seen the palace 
 of the Caesars. This superb group of ruins 
 trellised with ivy and wild flowers, gives to the 
 neighbouring landscape, a beautiful and pic- 
 turesque effect. On this terrace are three cha- 
 pels. The first which is dedicated to St. An- 
 drew, contains two paintings in fresco of extra- 
 ordinary beauty. The subject of the first by 
 Domimchino, is the flagellation of St. Andrew 
 the second by Guido, he presents the same 
 Saint going to execution. 
 
 Having endeavoured to convey, by means oi 
 a faint outline, an idea of some of the principal 
 churches which belong to the secondary . or- 
 der, I shall now attempt a description of those
 
 313 
 
 tp which the epithet Patriarchal is applied. 
 I shall begin with the Basilica Liberiansis^ or 
 as it is commonly called, the church of San- 
 ta Maria Majore. It is situated upon the Es- 
 quiline mount, and has two facades, before each 
 of which is a large open space, adorned the 
 one with an obelisk, the other with a column 
 supporting the statue of the Virgin. The prin- 
 cipal facade was added to the church, in the 
 pontificate of Benedict the fourteenth. It 
 consists of an upper and lower row of columns 
 of two different orders, the first being the 
 Ionick, the second Corinthian. The architec- 
 ture of the other facade does honour to the 
 taste of the Chevalier Rainaldi, under whose 
 direction it was executed by order of Cle- 
 ment the tenth. Its pilasters and statues are 
 gracefully disposed, and its two domes throw 
 over the whole composition an air of unusual 
 magnificence. 
 
 Nor does the interiour of this church dis- 
 appoint the expectations raised by its splen- 
 did exteriour. The effect of its long colon- 
 nades of white marble, fills every beholder 
 with admiration. The altar consists of a large 
 antique urn of red porphyry, covered by a 
 targe marble slab, and supported at the corners 
 41
 
 314 
 
 by four angels. The canopy, which covers 
 this altar, although a little too elevated for the 
 place it occupies, is a magnificent piece of 
 art. Its statuary, its porphyry columns and 
 bronze ornaments, would justify the loftiest 
 encomiums. Upon the left, is that sumptuous 
 chapel erected by Paul the fifth, of the house 
 of Borghese. The prodigal display here of 
 jasper and lapis lazuli, calls to mind the splen- 
 did mausoleum of the Medici family at Flo- 
 rence. These rioh materials, though employ- 
 ed with lavish embellishment, are not arrang- 
 ed according to the best taste. Had they 
 been more sparingly used, although they would 
 have dazzled less, their pleasing effect would 
 have been greater. 
 
 To embellish with indiscriminate profu- 
 sion, is never the mark of a correct or deli- 
 cate taste. To make any object fine, and to 
 make it beautiful, are two different things. The 
 first requires no genius, no powers of combi- 
 nation, no mental resources of any description, 
 While the latter is exclusively the prerogative 
 of powerful and cultivated talents. Such are 
 the reflections naturally suggested, by the 
 ostentatious magnificence of the Borghese cha-
 
 315 
 
 pet Although embellished with the pencil of 
 Guido, and by the talents of the first statuaries 
 of the age, a refined taste is offended at its me- 
 retricious brilliancy, which, no doubt was in- 
 tended to eclipse the pretensions of all its rivals. 
 There are a few of the most prominent features 
 of Santa Maria Majore, than which it would be 
 difficult to imagine any thing more beautiful or 
 magnificent to one who had not seen the match- 
 less grandeur of the Vatican. 
 
 In the church of St. John of Lateran, is 
 the Cersini chapel. It is less rich, but at the 
 same time less gaudy, than that of the Bor- 
 ghese family at Santa Maria Majore. Orna- 
 ment is here distributed with a more sparing 
 hand, and the charm of symmetry and grace 
 is not sacrificed to the glare of .. misplaced 
 finery. Its walls glitter with spaklirg incrus- 
 tations of jasper and oriental alabaster ; but 
 the tasteful disposition of the tombs, the 
 statuary, the bas reliefs and its ornamental 
 pillars of porphyry, and vert antique, res- 
 cue it from the censure, which I have ven- 
 tured to pass on the Borghese chapel. Over 
 the altar is the portrait of Andrew Corsini, in 
 mosaick, from an original by Guido. The 
 furniture of this chapel, though remarkable
 
 316 
 
 for its costliness, has a beauty of a higher 
 order arising from the happy simplicity, with 
 which it is disposed. The whole is cover- 
 ed by a graceful dome, from whose gilded 
 pannels, a soft light descending upon its mar- 
 ble pavement, lights up the splendid exhi- 
 bition of art beneath, with an additional 
 brilliancy. In this chapel is an antique sar- 
 cophagus of porphyry of an elegant form, 
 commonly called the urn of Marcus Agrippa 7 
 in which now reposes the body of Clement; 
 the twelfth. 
 
 Close to St. John of Lateran is an edifice 
 erected by Sixtus Quintus, in which is seen 
 a staircase, which according to tradition, is 
 the same that led to the judgment sent 
 of Pilate. St. Helena, mother of Constan- 
 tine the great, sent it from Jerusalem to Rome 
 with other relicks consecrated by the pas- 
 sion. These precious memorials are deposit- 
 ed in a chapel, which in order to secure more 
 effectually from the intrusions of sacrilege, 
 bears the appellation of Sancta Sanctorum. 
 
 Advancing from St. John of Lateran by 
 a road bordered with trees,, towards the Por- 
 ta Majore, you arrive at the church of Santa
 
 317 
 
 Croce in Gerusaiemme, an old basilica built 
 on the ruins of the temple of Venus and 
 Cupid. I\ was erected by Constantine at the 
 request of St. Helena, who caused to be de- 
 posited therein, some of the fragments of 
 the holy cross. The roses and myrtles of 
 the Paphian goddess have faded, and the dark 
 verdure of the ivy marks the vestiges of her 
 once brilliant temple. A convent stands amidst 
 its ruins, and the residence of the loves and 
 the graces, has become the abode of penitence 
 and prayer. 
 
 Leaving on your right the tomb of Caius 
 Cestius, and passing through one of the gates* 
 of the ancient city, you arrive at the Basilica 
 of St. Paolo fuori delle Mura. This edifice 
 over which so many centuries have rolled, and 
 on which time has left such deep and power- 
 ful traces of his foot-steps, awakens a train of 
 sublime ideas. The ground it stands upon 
 was a farm belonging to Lucina, a Roman ma- 
 tron within whose limits an ancient sepulchre 
 existed, in which was deposited the body of 
 the Apostle from whom it derives its name. It 
 was enlarged in three hundred and eighty- 
 six, by the emperour Theodosius, and finish- 
 
 * Porta di St. raofo, formerly, Forta QstknsiS:
 
 318 
 
 ed in the time of his successor Honorius, and 
 shortly after felt some of the effects of the rude 
 commotions of that prince's reign. The faded 
 mosaick decorations of its facade — its antique 
 portico, and the bronze portal in the centre, 
 — cast over its exteriour, the dim splendours of 
 antiquity. Its interiour, though not equal in 
 extent to St. Peters, by means of some 
 alterations, might be made to vie with it in 
 magnificence. It is divided into five aisles 
 by Corintian columns, twenty-four of which 
 it is said formerly adorned the moles Hadriani, 
 or tomb of Adrian. They are of one solid 
 piece of marble beautifully marked with purple 
 veins, and fluted for the length of one third of 
 the shaft, they are thirty-six feet high, and 
 eleven in circumference, the remaining fifty- six 
 are of Greek and Parian marble. The walls 
 of the great aisle are bordered immediately un- 
 der the ceiling by a series of portraits of the 
 popes, from St. Peter to his present successor. 
 The whole together amounting to the number 
 of two hundred and fifty- three. In the centre 
 of the transept of the church, is a rich cano- 
 py pointed at the top like a pyramid support- 
 ed by four beautiful columns of porphyry, 
 and overshadowing the altar under which re- 
 poses the body of the Apostle.
 
 319 
 
 It was evening when I visited St. Paul's, and 
 the fading twilight gave a more than usual solem- 
 nity to the scene around me. My view became 
 fixed upon the spoils of Adrian's mausoleum. 
 I could not help musing upon the insensibility 
 and barbarism of the age which could suffer 
 this magnificent structure, to be despoiled of 
 of its beauty. Belisarius converted it into a 
 fortress against the Goths, and stripped it of its 
 embellishments to hurl them upon the enemy. 
 Yet here an Emperour hoped to repose in quie- 
 tude after death. Vain hope ! Its beauty serv- 
 ed to invite the hand of rapacity, and its strength 
 made it a conspicuous theatre of war. If the 
 curtain of futurity had been drawn aside, and if 
 the fate of his favourite monument had been re- 
 vealed to Adrian before his death, how would 
 it have grieved him to behold the soldiers of 
 Belisarius casting upon the heads of the be- 
 siegers, the statues that adorned its walls. He 
 would have wept over the uncertainty of hu- 
 man greatness, in beholding the ruins of a mo- 
 nument, which promised to be as durable as the 
 flow of the Tyber. 
 
 Before me, wrapped in the shades of the 
 evening, stood the tomb of the Apostle who 
 taught the resurrection of the body. A doc-
 
 320 
 
 trine how animating in life, how consolatory in 
 death ! 
 
 The ancients endeavoured to render the idea 
 of death supportable, by decorating the tomb 
 with the splendours of art. In the opinion even 
 of the greatest philosophers and most virtuous 
 men of antiquity, futurity was a mystery, which 
 the utmost strength of human reason was 
 wholly unable to explain. Hence, in the em- 
 bellishment of their sepulchral monuments, 
 they often display a taste bordering on epi- 
 curism, and concealed the ashes of the dead 
 in urns decorated with images of gaiety and 
 voluptuousness. But from the moment the 
 apostle of the gentiles, opened the gates of 
 eternal life, and a ray of divine hope illumina- 
 ted the mansions of the dead, the pyramid 
 buiit for eternal duration, mausoleums on which 
 the revenues of kingdoms were lavished, no 
 longer continued to be objects of princely airir 
 bition. 
 
 From this fit of musing, I was roused by 
 the footsteps of my guide, echoing along the 
 .aisles of the church. The religious impres- 
 sions with which I quitted St. Paul's, con- 
 vinced me how much our purest and best affec- 
 tions, are strengthened by the presence of
 
 321 
 
 objects, to which history and tradition have 
 communicated a sacred charm. 
 
 In going to visit St. Peter's, I crossed the 
 Tyber on the Ponte St. Angelo. The figures 
 and attitudes of the marble statues, that adorn 
 this bridge, are beautiful and noble. The 
 castle of St. Angelo, at its extremity, was 
 the tomb of Hadrian, and the statues and co- 
 lumns which formerly embellished it, were of 
 the finest materials and most exquisite work- 
 manship. It was converted into a fortress 
 against the Goths, and, during the fury of 
 "hostilities, its sculpture and ornaments fur- 
 nished the besieged with arms against the inva- 
 ders. It has, since, occasionally afforded the 
 popes a secure retreat in times of danger. At 
 the end of the street on the left of the bridge, 
 the church of St. Peter opened in all its mag- 
 nificence. The sun of Italy illuminated its 
 facade^ and nature seemed pleased to shed 
 upon this noblest work of man, the full efful- 
 gence of her brightest luminary. The two 
 great fountains, that murmur perpetually in 
 the piazza, and from which the water is 
 discharged in so gaseous a form, that it mixes 
 with the atmosphere, were encircled with rain- 
 bows. Before it an obelisk rose an hundred 
 42
 
 322 
 
 and thirty feet in height, and the colonnade, 
 on each hand which encloses the piazza, 
 was an object as beautiful, as that to which 
 it lead, was grand and imposing. I ascend- 
 ed the vast steps before the church, and en- 
 tered its vestibule. The cicerone drew aside 
 for me the curtain that covers the door, and I 
 passed into the interiour of the church. I 
 cannot well describe the emotions of awe and 
 delight I felt, at the entrance of this glorious 
 temple. It expelled every ignoble passion from 
 the breast, and like the starry expanse, or the 
 boundless ocean, inspired the purest and high- 
 est sentiment of the sublime. It is some- 
 time before these impressions are worn oft' 
 the mind of the visitor, to leave it in a state 
 sufficiently dispassionate, to examine its beau- 
 ties in detail. After he has surveyed the 
 majesty and proportions of the wonderful 
 dome, suspended four hundred feet above his 
 head, after he is satisfied with contemplating 
 the matchless splendour of the great altar be- 
 neath it, he may then proceed to examine, 
 in succession, its paintings and tombs. 
 
 The interiour of St. Peter's is one of the 
 most sublime and brilliant exhibitions of art
 
 323 
 
 that ever was presented to the senses. Archi- 
 tecture, painting and sculpture, here contend 
 for the superiority; and their rival masterpieces 
 are brought into close comparison. Its pic- 
 tures are copies in mosaick, but the result of 
 so much labour and patience, that the most cri- 
 tical eye is puzzled to discover the slightest de- 
 viation from the sublime originals themselves. 
 One of them is a copy of the communion of St. 
 Jerome by Domiriichino. St. Jerome, near the 
 point of death, is making an effort almost be- 
 yond the strength of his infirm and emaciated 
 frame, to receive the last sacrament. His gar- 
 ment is thrown aside, and exposes to view the 
 withered and shrunken form of the old man. 
 How terrible is this portrait of man divested by 
 time of his bodily powers ! Dimned by a 
 veil of years, the soul of St. Jerome languish- 
 es for a better existence, and his faded eye 
 implores the comforts of religion. A lively sym- 
 pathy is painted on the countenances of the 
 surrounding group, and the eyes of the lion, 
 couched near St. Jerome, appear to swim in 
 tears* 
 
 Over an altar on the same side of the church., 
 is St. Michael subduing the dragon, by 
 Guhlo Rheni. The grace and youth of the
 
 324 
 
 arch-angel and the tranquillity of his divine 
 countenance, form a sudden and striking con- 
 trast to the ferocious aspect, — muscular form 
 and gigantick stature of his adversary. His 
 outsprea4 wings adorned with celestial plumage, 
 wave gracefully upon his shoulders ; he tram- 
 ples upon the prostrate fiend and raises over 
 him the sword of omnipotence. 
 
 The Satan of the Roman painters, has none 
 of the personal majesty and beauty of Milton's 
 ruined arch-angel. They have given to the 
 prince of hell in their pictures a shape hideous 
 and disgusting ; half man and half serpent. His 
 body is scared with lightnings, and his visage 
 brutalized by a pair of horns. The being 
 which Milton has imagined does not excite 
 emotions of pure disgust. The splendour of 
 his outward form is faded, but he preserves 
 some remains of his supernal glory. Mil- 
 ton's imagination was no doubt enriched by his 
 visit to Italy, and he occasionally discovers in 
 his Paradise Lost, how much the stores of his 
 invention were enlarged by his acquaintance 
 with Italian literature. But the character of 
 Satan is a creation of his own genius. His 
 moral and intellectual nature, and the personal 
 majesty with which the poet has clothed his
 
 b2s 
 
 outward form, are compounded from no ma- 
 terials which he could have borrowed from 
 Dante or Tasso. 
 
 The tomb of Clement the thirteenth is by 
 Canova, and unquestionably the greatest work 
 of genius that adorns the interiour of St, Pe- 
 ter's. Never was the sentiment of devotion 
 more happily expressed than in the figure of 
 the Pope kneeling at the top of this monument. 
 Its hands are gently raised, and closed at their 
 extremities. Its features are calm and resign- 
 ed, and on its lips which appear to breathe, sits 
 all the eloquence of prayer. A beautiful wing- 
 ed figure holding in its hand a torch reversed, 
 representing genius, sits on one side of this 
 monument with a look of profound grief. On 
 the other stands the form of religion erect 
 and serene. The two lions at its base are mas- 
 terpieces of sculpture. One sleeps while the 
 other watches. So close is the imitation of 
 life in the latter, that I have heard some ladies 
 at Rome say, they were so overpowered by 
 the terrour its look inspires as to hesitate to ap- 
 proach it. The repose of the other is as hap- 
 pily imagined. This form of fierceness and 
 strength in a state of quietude and rest, sug- 
 gest feelings analogous to those inspired by the
 
 326 
 
 calm of the ocean, or the portrait of the slum- 
 bers of the eagle in Gray's ode : — 
 
 Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie, 
 
 The terrours of his beak, and light'nings of his eye. 
 
 A plain urn of stucco, is all that here com- 
 memorates the much lamented name of Bras- 
 chu But I remembered the monument erect- 
 ed in the hearts of all who knew him, by his 
 piety, his virtues and his sufferings, and the 
 imperishable honours with which the pen of 
 Burke has decorated it. 
 
 The Vatican which adjoins St. Peter's, in- 
 dependent of the treasures which enrich its 
 interiour, possesses within itself, all that can 
 render it a desirable retreat to the enthusiast 
 and even voluptuary. From the windows of the 
 gallery of the Belvidere is seen one of the most 
 extensive and picturesque views of Rome. The 
 eye after pursuing the windings of the Tyber, 
 and dwelling with a severe pleasure upon som- 
 bre ruins, which like the colossal shades that 
 fancy conjures up at midnight, bear in their 
 dark and faded aspect, memorials of their pris- 
 tine grandeur, beyond, in the environs of the 
 city reposes on the scenes of villa Borghese and
 
 327 
 
 villa Medici. Fountains murmur in the ad- 
 joining court, and the breath of oranges and jes- 
 samines impregnate the air that plays along its 
 porticoes and galleries. The deep silence which 
 generally reigns over almost every portion of 
 this vast edifice, diffuses throughout a myste- 
 rious solitude, and almost makes the visitor be- 
 lieve he is surveying one of those magical pa- 
 laces described in the tales of eastern enchant- 
 ment. 
 
 Yet I would not be understood to praise 
 the architecture of the Vatican, as regular 
 and unexceptionable. In so vast a pile, ex- 
 tended and improved at different periods, by 
 a succession of architects, Bramante, Raphael, 
 Maderno and Bernini, there must exist that 
 incongruity, which necessarily would arise out 
 of the diversity of the taste and talents, of 
 these different artists. Yet, however defec- 
 tive it may be in detail, the whole together 
 is majestick and imposing. 
 
 A superb Ionick staircase fscala regiaj leads 
 to the apartments and saloons of the Vatican, 
 The sala regia, a vast audience chamber, 
 communicates with the Pauline and Sistine cha- 
 pels, the principal ornaments of which are 
 the pictures of Michael Angelo and Ijis scho-
 
 328 
 
 lars, Next in order are the Loggie of Raphael, 
 which open upon the court of St. Damasus. 
 The galleries containing the inimitable per- 
 formances of Raphael, which were fomerly 
 open and exposed to the weather, are now 
 protected from the changes of the atmos- 
 phere, by immense shutters of glass. This 
 great improvement, the Vatican is said to 
 owe to the munificence of M urat, late king 
 of Naples. 
 
 These paintings have been so often described, 
 that it is now difficult, perhaps impossible to 
 make any remarks on them, that will not be 
 destitute of the attractions of novelty. Yet, if 
 I may be permitted to judge from what I 
 myself have felt, there are few persons, who 
 have complained of disappointment, the first 
 time they beheld the matchless compositions 
 of Raphael, which have been the subject of 
 so many warm and rapturous eulogiums. But, 
 as it is generally admitted, that Michael Ange- 
 lo Buonarotti is the author of that purity of 
 design, and of that noble and chaste simpli- 
 city, which characterizes the masters of the 
 Roman school of painting, I shall notice, 
 first his picture of the day of judgment in
 
 329 
 
 the Sixtine chapel, which is generally esteem- 
 ed his masterpiece. The slight attention which 
 Michael Angelo appears to have paid to aerial 
 perspective in this piece, and the manner in 
 which the different groups are distributed, 
 in my opinion, render it much inferiour in 
 point of effect, to a painting of the same sub- 
 ject by Tintoretto <, in the great council cham- 
 ber at Venice. The happy distribution of 
 light and shade, an excellence justly claimed 
 by the painters of the Venetian school, is 
 peculiarly well adapted to paintings of this 
 nature, where the eye takes in, at one view, 
 too great a multitude of objects, to attend 
 to the particular expression of the passions 
 and knowledge of design, that may be dis- 
 played in the execution of each individual 
 figure. But, when the style of the Venetian 
 masters, with all its puerile embellishments 
 and insignificant details, is compared with that 
 chaste and majestick simplicity, and with that 
 bold and divine expression, that Michael 
 Angelo taught his scholars to transfuse into 
 the human figure and countenance, how low 
 does it sink in the scale of excellence ! 
 
 The outline of this celebrated picture is 
 this. Michael Angelo has endeavoured to seize 
 
 43
 
 330 
 
 and fix with his daring pencil, that awful mo- 
 ment in the scene of the judgment day, which 
 has an air of such tremendous grandeur, in 
 the simple and unaffected eloquence of the 
 apostle. The judge of the universe has pro- 
 nounced the benediction, upon the souls re- 
 ceived into Paradise, who appear seated on 
 his right, and in an attitude in which anger 
 is tempered with a celestial majesty, is pas- 
 sing upon the wicked his final and irrevocable 
 decree, " depart from me, ye accused, into 
 everlasting fire." 
 
 It does not require a very nice and criti- 
 cal eye, to detect great blemishes in this com- 
 position, upon the merits of which depends 
 Michael Angelo^s fame as a painter. But we 
 must not judge it, by comparing it with perfor- 
 mances of a later date, but take into consi- 
 deration the state of the art, at the period it 
 was executed, which will enable us to deter- 
 mine impartially, how far this artist outstrip- 
 ped all his predecessors, and to what extent 
 posterity is indebted to him. A severe critick 
 undoubtedly finds much to blame in the incon- 
 gruous mixture of a heathen divinity, with the 
 solemnities of an event for the knowledge which 
 we are indebted to christian revelation. Charon 
 and the Styx are introduced into this piece.
 
 331 
 
 which mar its sublimity no less than the disgust- 
 ing portrait of the Cardinal to whom Michael 
 Angelo gave immortality for his having dared to 
 remark what he thought indecencies in the pic- 
 ture. But these are irregularities or capricios 
 of a profound and daring mind, and if the ad- 
 mirers of the father of Italian poetry, find in 
 that depth of feeling and gloomy grandeur with 
 which he paints the human character, an apolo- 
 gy for all the wild visions and bold incongruities 
 of the inferno, may we not with equal rea- 
 son put into the scale of justice, against the 
 faults of this picture, that sublimity of thought 
 for which Michael Angelo is indebted, to his 
 having like Dante, ventured beyond the bar- 
 riers of space and time into unexplored regions 
 of existence. 
 
 I shall now make some observations on the 
 works of Raphael, for the success of whose ta- 
 lent the last mentioned artist, is said to have felt 
 all the jealousy of rivalship. Raphael has with 
 some propriety been styled the Virgil of pain- 
 ters in contradistinction to Michael Angelo, 
 who appears to have possessed an impetuosity 
 of genius and an overwhelming sublimity of 
 thought, similar to what has been ascribed to 
 the author of the Iliad.
 
 332 
 
 The imagination makes a delightful transi- 
 tion from the paintings of the Sixtine and Pauline 
 chapels to the Loggie and Camere of Raphael, 
 from countenances distorted with pain or con- 
 vulsed with horrour, to features glowing with the 
 expression of celestial love — from gigantick and 
 terrifick forms,— to figures of angelick grace. 
 The vertical position and size of the pictures of 
 the loggie render it difficult for a spectator the first 
 time he sees them, to consider them with that 
 minute attention they deserve. They reveal 
 new beauties every time they are examined, and 
 while the productions of other artists borrow 
 from fashion or some other accidental cause a 
 short lived glory, the performances of Ra- 
 phael enjoy the possession of those unfading 
 charms, which entide their author to that crown 
 of immortality, for the pursuit of which, he relin- 
 quished the more dazzling but less noble ob- 
 jects of his art. This series of paintings in 
 my opinion, forms the noblest and most inte- 
 resting comment on the history of the Old Tes- 
 tament. The events of the inspired volume 
 here rise up to view, adorned with all those 
 lively and picturesque circumstances which are 
 suggested to the imagination by that unaffected 
 simplicity which gives such an air of dignity 
 and truth, to the compositions of the divine
 
 historian. The embellishments with which 
 the imagination of Milton has enriched the ma- 
 terials of sacred tradition, bear so close a re- 
 semblance to the colouring and imagery, with 
 which the invention of Raphael has decorated 
 the same subject, that I cannot help repeating 
 here a former remark, how creative the pen- 
 cil becomes in the hands of a great artist, and 
 how nearly painting then succeeds in rivalling 
 the loftiest flights of poetical genius. 
 
 The museum Pio- Clemctitimim, is so called 
 from its founder Clement the sixteenth, and 
 from the cirumstance of its being further aug- 
 mented and enriched by the late pope Pius 
 sixth. An immense gallery lined on each side 
 with statues, ancient sarcophagi and inscrip- 
 tions, leads to a court, a hundred feet square, 
 cooled with fountains and perfumed with 
 orange-trees. Within the portico of this court 
 stand those unrivalled masterpieces, the Apol- 
 lo, the Laocoon and the Antinous, and I did 
 not fail to gaze with renewed admiration on 
 these matchless forms, which four years before 
 I had seen in the gallery of the Louvre. To 
 each one of these great masterpieces a separate 
 apartment is allotted worthy to enshrine its di- 
 vine inhabitant, and where it now reposes in
 
 534 
 
 solitary beauty. These chambers open upoa 
 a court along whose airy and silent colonnades, 
 the breeze waft the perfume of a multitude of 
 exotick flowers, which seem more readily to ex- 
 hale their sweets in an atmosphere peopled with 
 these angelick forms. The works of Canova 
 have not been thought unworthy of a place 
 near these unequalled performances. Here 
 Perseus stands holding in his hand the 
 head of Medusa, and the divine face of the 
 young hero like that of the Apollo, is enno- 
 bled by an expression of triumph as he extends 
 to view the countenance of the Gorgon. The 
 same apartment contains the ancient pugilists. 
 Two figures in which a great knowlege of 
 muscular anatomy is displayed, but which are ill 
 calculated to give a proper idea of Canova's ge- 
 nius. 
 
 The Sala degli animali, is a collection of fi- 
 gures which merits the attention of every one 
 
 who possesses the least taste for the arts. It 
 gives a noble idea of the talents of ancient ar- 
 tists, in portraying mere physical beauty, and 
 in giving the vigorous expression of life and 
 muscular strength to irrational forms. The li- 
 ons, panthers and eagles, which adorn this col- 
 lection, do not resemble those which we com-
 
 335 
 
 monly see stuffed in a museum, or languishing 
 in the confinement of a menagerie. They have 
 an' ideal grandeur. It is the lion of Lybian 
 forest. It is the eagle of Mount Caucasus, 
 sovereign of birds. 
 
 In the adjoining apartment among a number 
 of pieces of exquisite beauty, a person of 
 the least taste or sensibility will not fail to re- 
 mark, a triton bearing off a nymph in his 
 arms. The tout ensemble of this group, what 
 ever fault may be found with it when ex- 
 amined in detail, is indescribably poetick. The 
 laughing features and arch expression of the 
 loves, who are perched upon the convoluted 
 tail of the sea-monster, who is bounding over 
 the waves, is an idea worthy of the fancy of 
 Ovid, while the disordered and voluptuous form 
 of the nymph calls to mind Ariosto's pic- 
 ture of Angelica in the same situation. 
 
 Per le spalle la chiotna iva disciolta, 
 E l'aura la facca lascivo assalto, 
 Stavano cheti tutti i maggior venti, 
 Forse a tanta belta col mare attenti. 
 
 The Stanza dell Musee, usually denominat- 
 ed the temple of the muses, is of an octa- 
 gon shape decorated with lavish embellish-
 
 336 
 
 ment. Sixteen columns of the marble of Car- 
 rara, support a vault richly painted. The 
 pavement is of ancient mosaick. The light des- 
 cends vertically through a central opening in 
 the dome, and is diffused over the divine 
 forms of Apollo and the Muses, stationed 
 conspicuously upon lofty pedestals. Around are 
 placed the principal philosophers, poets and 
 orators of Greece. 
 
 Adjoining this, is the beautiful circular tem- 
 ple, called Sala rotonda, remarkable for the 
 size of the piece of ancient mosaick that forms 
 its pavement, and the magnificent vase of 
 red porphyry fifty feet in circumference, which 
 was discovered in the baths of Titus. 
 
 In enumerating these different saloons, I 
 must not omit the Sala a Croce Graca, en- 
 riched with a multitude of ancient mosaicks 
 and bas reliefs, which in any other collection 
 than that of the Vatican, would be conspicu- 
 ous objects, but which are lost in this im- 
 mense treasury of art. Yet amidst this splen- 
 did profusion, the eye is struck with the sar- 
 cophagus of red porphyry that contained the 
 ashes of Constant ia, daughter of Constantino 
 the great. It is only by reflecting on the
 
 337 
 
 hardness of the material, the boldness of re- 
 lief, and the lightness and delicacy of the 
 figures that adorn it, that an ordinary obser- 
 ver is made to conceive the masterly pow- 
 ers of the hand that executed it. 
 
 The Sala a Croce Graca is connected with 
 the Galleria del Candelabri, and the library of 
 the Vatican by superb staircases, supported by 
 pillars of white and red granite. The Galle- 
 ria dei Candelabri^ as its name imports, is a 
 vast assemblage of antique candelabras of rare 
 and curious workmanship. They constituted 
 formerly the furniture of ancient palaces and 
 temples. This terminates in the gallery of paint- 
 ings. This gallery is not like that of the 
 Louvre, a collection of masterpieces. There are 
 some good paintings, the beauties of which, 
 however, cannot but remain unobserved amidst 
 the immense riches of the Vatican, and with- 
 in the proximity of the dazzling miracles of 
 Raphael's and Michael Angelo^s genius. Not- 
 withstanding the astonishment and delight with 
 which I used to behold the Musee Napoleon, 
 the enjoyments I derived from my visits to 
 the Louvre were far less intense, than those 
 I experienced within the walls of the Vatican. 
 Taken altogether, the latter appears much 
 44
 
 338 
 
 better adapted to the culture of the taste and 
 the imagination, and to the encouragement of the 
 higher feelings of moral and religious enthu- 
 siasm* Should the student here, ever become 
 so enamoured of the works of the ancients, as 
 to believe that the religious ideas and fictions 
 of heathen mythology, furnish the happiest 
 subjects for poetry and painting, this idea 
 is refuted by the presence of St. Peter's, and 
 the monuments of painting and sculpture that 
 it contains. Here the works of Canova, of 
 Guido, Dominichino, Raphael and Michael An- 
 gelo show with what bright conceptions, Chris- 
 tianity is capable of enriching the artist's inven- 
 tion, and how much its divine truths and 
 moral precepts have contributed, to 
 
 " Raise the genius, and to mend the heart.'*, 
 
 This is a circumstance of more importance 
 than is generally supposed in the cultivation of 
 the fine arts. The works of the ancients are 
 better calculated to enrich the imagination, 
 than to form the moral taste. However happy 
 they were in seizing those ideal forms of beau- 
 ty, that seduce the senses and the imagination, 
 and however noble and perfect those specimens 
 are, which they have left of their skill in por-
 
 339 
 
 traying the external forms of matter, the 
 true sources of the moral sublime are to be 
 found in the christian scriptures. How much 
 they have contributed to ennoble and enlarge 
 the sphere of poetick invention, may be seen 
 in the Paradise Lost of Milton, and for their 
 influence upon the art of painting, I appeal 
 to the sublime compositions of Poussin Le Su- 
 eur and Raphael. I make this remark because 
 I observed in the French school of painting 
 a considerable falling off in this respect, and am 
 apt to believe that a collection like the Lou- 
 vre where sacred, ga} r , and voluptuous sub- 
 jects, were promiscuously mingled together, 
 was not calculated to remedy this failure. 
 Who for instance of a delicate and refined 
 taste could view without being shocked the Ju- 
 piter and Leda of Coreggio, in the same com- 
 pany with the transfiguration of Raphael and 
 St. Jerome of Dominwhhio, or behold without 
 disgust, the ale-house frolicks of Tenters, and 
 the comick scenes of Van Ostade, placed in 
 the same collection near the sublime perform- 
 ances of the pencil of Reubens and Rembrandt. 
 This confusion of subjects, could hardly fail, 
 I think, of weakening the impression which 
 these pieces which represent the most striking 
 events of sacred history, must have produced
 
 340 
 
 when suspended over altars, and encompassed by 
 objects, all of which were calculated to encour- 
 age and augment the emotions they were design- 
 ed to awaken. If I may judge from my own 
 feelings, the difference of effect upon the mind 
 of the artist, must be great indeed. During 
 two successive years I spent in Paris, I scarcely 
 passed a week in which I omitted to visit the 
 Louvre, and although I was in the habit of 
 hearing daily encomiums on pieces, the beau- 
 ties of which I could not perceive, I was 
 more inclined to suspect that this differ- 
 ence of taste proceeded from some original de- 
 fect in my own powers of perception, than 
 from any weakness in the judgment of those 
 to whom I was accustomed to apply for in- 
 formation. Like every juvenile admirer of 
 pictures, I was dazzled by that glare of colour- 
 ing, and parade of attitudes, by which some 
 painters have endeavoured to conceal their de- 
 ficiency in the nobler requisites of their art. 
 From which I was convinced that a collection like 
 the Louvre was not fitted to lay the foundation 
 of a taste for the simple and manly beauties of 
 the Roman school, but was likely to produce 
 a style, in which truth and nature would be sa- 
 crificed to mannerism and and affectation.
 
 341 
 
 This conviction was not weakened, but ra- 
 ther confirmed by my subsequent visit to Italy. 
 How different were my sensations upon seeing 
 the Transfiguration and the St. Jerome in the Va- 
 tican ! These two pieces were standing unfram- 
 ed in the hall of Constantine. They had not long 
 arrived from Paris, yet in this naked insulated 
 state, they awakened emotions far more pro- 
 found than any I had ever felt in contemplating 
 them in the Lrmvre : so much does the effect 
 of the finest masterpieces of genius depend up- 
 on the influence of association, and so necessa- 
 ry is it, that the mind should be prepared for 
 the effect of what is truly sublime, by receiv- 
 ing from surrounding objects only such impres- 
 sions as correspond with the predominant tone 
 of feeling, it was the design of the artist to in- 
 spire. 
 
 I have already remarked that the distribution 
 of the Louvre, was ill calculated to promote this 
 effect, and that this circumstance has had a sensi- 
 ble influence, upon the style of the French ar- 
 tists for some years past, I think must be evi- 
 dent to every one, who has paid attention to the 
 biennial expositions of the Louvre. In that 
 particularly of eighteen hundred and twelve, 
 I did not observe a single piece, which in
 
 342 
 
 composition or execution, could lay claim to 
 praise of the first degree. In the choice of 
 their subjects too, I remarked a meanness of 
 invention and a poverty of genius, which de- 
 monstrated that the present artists of the French 
 school, inherit, no portion of that creative fire 
 of imagination, which produced the transcen- 
 dant compositions of Poussin and Le Sueur. 
 Most of the subjects selected for that purpose 
 were chiefly designed as compliments to diffe- 
 rent members of the imperial family. Here an 
 extensive field was opened for the display of 
 military costumes and theatrical attitudes, and 
 in these the artists on that occasion indulg- 
 ed their genius without limit or restraint. All 
 this I take to be the consequence of a de- 
 generacy of taste, produced by the vast and 
 promiscuous collection of masterpieces of art 
 at Paris, and the unsuitableness of the Lou- 
 vre, in point of situation, to the study of the 
 works of genius. The crowded and tumul- 
 tuous quays in the neighbourhood of the Lou- 
 vre, and the mountebanks and marionettes of 
 the place Carousel, harmonised but little with 
 the study of the fine arts ; whilst no sounds 
 are heard near St. Peter's, but the accents of 
 prayer ; a sacred stillness pervades these beau- 
 tiful receptacles of art, and the murmur of
 
 343 
 
 its fountains is in harmony with that freedom 
 from meaner cares, and that intellectual re- 
 pose, so necessary to the success of the high- 
 er efforts of imagination. 
 
 Next to the churches and architectural mo- 
 numents of Rome, its palaces and villas me- 
 rit the attention of the traveller. A gallery 
 of pictures generally forms an indispensable 
 part of the establishment of every Roman no- 
 bleman. To give a minute and exact de- 
 scription of each of these, would require, be- 
 sides a knowledge of the principles of paint- 
 ing, far more time and attention, than I have 
 been able to devote to the subject. Some of 
 these, however, are of such striking and ori- 
 ginal excellence, that while they furnish in- 
 exhaustible beauties to the eye of an experi- 
 enced connoisseur, they captivate the most un- 
 skilful observer. Such, for example, is the 
 celebrated fresco representing the morning by 
 Guidoy at the palace Rospigliosi. It is in this 
 inimitable composition, that this great mas- 
 ter has displayed all the charms of his ima- 
 gination, and put forth the whole strength of 
 his invention. The design and execution of 
 this picture, shews how near the pencil, in 
 the hands of a consummate artist, can approach
 
 344 
 
 to the sublime creations of poetry. Milton 
 and Tasso, whose descriptions of the morn- 
 ing are so peculiarly beautiful, in embellishing 
 the same subject, have borrowed nearly the 
 same delightful imagery and enchanting co- 
 louring. Poetry indeed, by the vagueness of 
 Its ideas, and the unlimitted range which it 
 affords to the imagination, is eminently favour- 
 able to the attainment of that ideal beauty, 
 which the art of the painter is too gross and 
 material, ever completely to exhibit. Here 
 the complaint, which Thompson in his Cas- 
 tle of Indolence, with so little propriety, puts 
 into the mouth of the poet, may, with far 
 more justice, be ascribed to the genius of 
 painting, when emulating the sublimer efforts 
 of her sister art. 
 
 No fair illusions, artful phantoms no, 
 My muse will not attempt your fairy land, 
 She has no colours, that like yours can glow, 
 To catch your vivid scenes too gross her hand. 
 
 Aurora is proceeded by the dawn, personi- 
 fied under the form of a beautiful infant, car- 
 rying a flambeau, which represents the bril- 
 liant star that announces the day. Its rays 
 are too feeble entirely to dispel the night, 
 and accordingly a deeper shade surrounds the
 
 345 
 
 dawn, than that behind which encircles the 
 lovely figure of Aurora, that gradually unveils 
 herself and strews the earth with flowers, as 
 she approaches. At last Apollo appears mount- 
 ed in his resplendent car, and attended by 
 the hours. His fiery coursers plunge into the 
 heavens, and drive away the mists that lin- 
 ger behind Aurora and the dawn. Another 
 conspicuous piece, is a picture by Albano, the 
 subject of which is taken from the story 
 of Rinaldo and Armida. The hero of Jeru- 
 salem sunk in the languors of effeminacy, is 
 assisting at the toilet of his beautiful mis- 
 tress. I need scarcely remark how capable 
 the pencil of so rich and exquisite a colour- 
 ist as Albano was, of doing justice to a subject, 
 embellished by the glowing and voluptuous 
 fancy of Tasso. 
 
 These superb mansions of the Italian nobi- 
 lity have a lonely and melancholy air, which 
 all their internal splendour and magnificence 
 cannot dispel. One ranges through suites 
 of superb apartments, decorated with lavish 
 embellishment, and peopled by the creative 
 hand of the artist ; but their vacancy and si- 
 lence chill the imagination. Objects of nature 
 make the strongest impression upon the fancy, 
 
 45
 
 346 
 
 and the heart in those situations, where no 
 human artist dares to interfere with her vast and 
 magnificent designs. Cliffs visited only by the 
 Ibex and the eagle — the torrent that roars down 
 the abrupt precipice, and shakes the mountain 
 with its fall, or scenes of decayed magnifi- 
 cence, which bring together, in one view, 
 the perishable structures of art, and the un- 
 wearied activity and unchangeable course of 
 nature, awaken the dormant energies of the 
 mind, and give wings to the imagination. But 
 the deserted abodes of wealth and luxury cre- 
 ate a sensation, too much allied to sorrow to 
 be pleasing long, and which rather oppresses 
 than invigorates the soul. 
 
 The delicious villas that surround Rome, 
 like the fiction of the happy valley, or that 
 of Seged's enchanted island, exhibit the un- 
 substantial nature of human enjoyments. Their 
 possessors, sunk in the languors of luxury, 
 and surfeited by the banquet of perpetual de- 
 light, appear to have fled away in quest of 
 more tumultuous pleasures. 
 
 The villa Pamjili or Belrespiro is situated 
 near the Vatican mount. The charming aspect 
 of this villa frequently attracted me to contem-
 
 347 
 
 plate its lonely beauties, and to inhale an at- 
 mosphere perfumed with flowers and agitated 
 by its numerous cascades and fountains. To a 
 visitor who has seen the seats of Hagley and 
 Blenheim in England, and who recollects the 
 views of Mortfontaine and Ermenonville in 
 France, the artificial beauties of Belrespiro, ap- 
 pear to depart too much from the model of na- 
 ture. The unpleasing effect here produced, is 
 somewhat similar to that which arises from 
 those modish extravagances of dress and man- 
 ners, which are so revolting to the unperverted 
 taste of a simple and ingenuous mind. It is 
 rather splendid than beautiful. Like the stu- 
 died manners and brilliant dresses of a court, 
 its charms have a dazzling lustre, which is dis- 
 owned by the sober aspect of truth and nature. 
 Seated near the margin of one of its superb 
 fountains, in the figures of which the statuary 
 had laboured to depict the visions of ancient 
 poetry, or stationed on one of its terraces that 
 command a prospect of its walks and alleys, 
 sheltered by a dense and impenetrable covering 
 of foliage from the blaze of an Italian sun, and 
 contemplating those beautiful and speaking 
 forms, which meet the eye at the end of every 
 avenue, I could not help contrasting it in my
 
 348 
 
 imagination, with the air of softness and repose, 
 which so eminently distinguishes the scenery 
 of Ermenonville in France. 
 
 Ermenonville indeed can boast no transcend- 
 ent groups of statuary, to stimulate the fancy 
 by classical or historical images. But the want 
 of such embellishments, is supplied by the 
 presence of higher attractions. Its lakes, — its 
 rocks, — its hills, — and valiies, present an end- 
 less diversity of views, each exhibiting an ex- 
 tensive landscape, glowing with the charms of 
 nature. Sometimes a lonely lake overhung by 
 the birch and the chesnut — its shores boldly in- 
 dented, forming promontories and bays, the 
 unmolested haunts of the wild duck and the 
 bittern, — invites the spectator to the enjoyment 
 of all the luxury of solitude. The deep re- 
 cesses of its forests echo with the rush of a 
 cascade, or the murmurs of a rivulet. Its 
 wilder features too, are intermixed with the most 
 pleasing and cheerful objects of a rustick nature, 
 — a water-mill, — a peasant's cottage, — a ruined 
 tower of Gabrielled' E trees, peeping from amidst 
 a cluster of trees ; in short, such an assemblage 
 " of rural sights and rural sounds," as exhilirate 
 the fancy and produce none of that weariness, 
 which rarely fails to attend the efforts of art, 
 when she looses sight of nature and simplicity.
 
 349 
 
 In lreio aspetto il bel giardin s'aperse 
 Acque stagnanti, mobili cristalli, 
 Fior vari, e varie piante, erbe diverse 
 Apriche callinette ombrose valli 
 Selve e spelonche in una vista off'erse 
 E quel che l'bello, el accresce all'opre, 
 L'arte che tutto fa nulla si scopre. 
 
 If the reader is not fatigued with this dis- 
 sertation on gardens, he will attend me to the 
 villa Borghese, the rival of villa Pamfili. 
 The villa Borghese is conspicuous, even when 
 seen at a distance, by its lofty groves of tufted 
 cypress and pine, to which as well as those of 
 the villa Pamfili, the naked and unadorned 
 environs of the city, give a bold and magnifi- 
 cent relief. 
 
 Quitting the piazza delpopolo, you pass by the 
 ruins of part of that gigantick wall with which 
 the Emperour Aurelian encompassed the city. 
 The gate which leads to the villa, is remarka- 
 ble for the size and beauty of its two piers, 
 each of which supports an eagle finely sculp- 
 tured; the crest of the Borghese family. The 
 principal avenue is planted on each side with 
 arbours and thickets, interspersed with orange 
 trees and other green house plants. Having 
 reached the termination of this walk, the beau-
 
 350 
 
 ties of the garden expand before you. On the 
 left at the end of an avenue, bordered with co- 
 pies of antique statues, is a beautiful lake, 
 the banks of which are shaded with poplars and 
 osiers. On an island in the midst of this lake 
 rises a beautiful Ionick temple dedicated to 
 Esculapius, whose open and airy portico affords 
 a view of the statue of the god. But alas ! the 
 son of Apollo is here stationed in vain, nor can 
 his presence drive away the " pale Quartana," 
 a sickly, an emaciated deemon that haunts 
 this delightful abode. The mal aria that ren- 
 ders the Campagna del Roma, almost uninha- 
 bitable, during a greater part of the summer, 
 reigns in all its malignancy at the villa Borg- 
 hese. I know not whether I was filled with 
 more regret or surprise upon being told, that 
 this superb villa, along with its splendid man- 
 sion, was during the most beautiful months of the 
 year abandoned by its inhabitants. It was with 
 difficulty that I could associate in my imagina- 
 tion, the melancholy thought of disease, with a 
 sun so resplendent and an atmosphere so soft 
 and voluptuous. The gay profusion of flowers 
 that wasted 
 
 " their sweetness on the desert air." —
 
 351 
 
 — its tall groves of cypress murmuring with the 
 breeze, the incessant warbling of birds and 
 play of fountains, realized, more than any thing 
 I had ever seen, the fairy solitudes of Calypso 
 and Armida. 
 
 The Casino or mansion house, though not 
 in the best style of architecture, and too much 
 kept out of view, has both in its exteriour 
 and interiour appearance an air of magnifi- 
 cence, which corresponds with the luxurious 
 ornaments of the gardens. Its saloons are 
 painted with frescoes, and its portico furnish- 
 ed with copies of the most admired statues. 
 
 The proprietor of this beautiful villa was 
 living at Florence, where I had seen him in 
 the procession on the banks of the Arno, 
 where the Tuscan nobility contend with each 
 other, in the brilliancy of their equipages. 
 Every summer evening, an immense con- 
 course of carriages evince an emulation, which 
 in itself, however trifling and inglorious, is 
 not unpleasing to a traveller, and to a votary 
 of fashionable pleasure, gives to the banks 
 of the Arno> attractions superiour to all the 
 venerable monuments and classick charms of 
 the Tiber. Over this gay crowd, the hor-
 
 352 
 
 ses and equipage of Prince Borghese shone 
 conspicuous. His repudiated wife Pauline, 
 languished amidst the solitude of Rome, 
 sometimes appearing at evening in the dull 
 procession on the Corso, while the prince 
 true to the custom of his country, was li- 
 ving at Florence with his new mistress, and 
 exhibiting her daily to publick view. If 
 he repented his alliance with Buonaparte, and 
 considered it a stain upon his family, let 
 it be remembered that he was among those, 
 who invited the Gaul into Italy, and deliver- 
 ed up the persons and fortunes of its nobi- 
 lity and clergy, to the dominion of his unspar- 
 ing sword. A pious catholick and a full bred 
 Roman of the present day, kindling with such 
 recollections, might imagine he saw the great 
 shade of Paul the fifth, whose name is cha- 
 ractered upon the sublime front of St. Peter's, 
 looking down with a frown of stern displea- 
 sure, upon this unworthy descendant of his 
 house. 
 
 The views from the villa Borghese are emi- 
 nently beautiful and picturesque. The tra- 
 veller sees here assembled in one magnifi- 
 cent view before him, all those objects which 
 he has often examined with so much inter-
 
 353 
 
 est in detail. Among these the most conspicu- 
 ous are the Pantheon, the Castle of St. Angelo 
 and the site of the ancient capitol — a multi- 
 tude of steeples and obelisks rise and peo- 
 ple the air above the city, and beyond is seen 
 the dome of St. Peter's, swelling above them 
 all in solitary grandeur. 
 
 It was a source of no little surprise to me, 
 to find the villas in the neighbourhood of Rome 
 unfrequented, except by a few straggling vi- 
 sitors, who, like myself, were carried to these 
 places by the strong impulse of curiosity. If 
 the villa Borghese were in the neighbourhood 
 of Paris or London, it would be crowded 
 from morning till night. The gregarious dis- 
 position of the French, on Sundays and other 
 holidays, gives an indescribable air of gaiety, 
 to every guinguette and garden in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Paris, which are then filled with 
 company. My memory, at this moment, 
 dwells with pleasure on the dances of the villa* 
 geois, I witnessed on the banks of the Loire 
 and the Garonne, where 
 
 Many a youth and many a maid, 
 Dancing in the chequered shade, 
 And young and old came forth to play, 
 On a sunshine holiday. 
 'Till the live long day-light fail. 
 46
 
 354, 
 
 Such sights were capable of banishing every 
 melancholy reflection, and made me, for a mo- 
 ment forget the horrours of an unsparing con- 
 scription, that at that moment was ravaging 
 the villages in France. In approaching the 
 capital, this vivacity manifested itself as uni- 
 versally, but softened by the elegancies of 
 Parisian taste. Fashion appeared to have 
 erected her throne in the bowers of the 
 Thuilleries, and multitudes whose only ob- 
 ject was to dazzle or to ensnare, to unveil 
 the dangerous attractions of beauty or wealth, 
 or to practice the irresistible smile of cour- 
 tesy, here daily displayed their pretensions. 
 
 Rome, where every object invites to reve- 
 rie and thought, would be insupportable to one, 
 who had learned to breathe only the atmosphere 
 of Paris. Here the worship of the muses, 
 restrains all pleasures of a less intellectual na- 
 ture. Its villas, its palaces, its churches, 
 its repositories of art, all assist their influ- 
 ence, where a loneliness reigns, well fitted to 
 inspire the dream of fancy, and to nourish 
 that voluptuous tenderness, which gives to the 
 pleasures of imagination thier intoxicating effect. 
 
 People of figure and fortune, who seek at 
 Rome the distractions of a great city, have here
 
 355 
 
 ho other amusement, than that of exhibiting 
 themselves in the evening in their carria- 
 ges upon the corso, whose slow and mournful 
 procession is an image of that time, the 
 flight of which they are labouring to accelerate. 
 In vain in this paradise of taste, hiscory, poetry, 
 painting and sculpture conspire to spread a 
 perpetual banquet for the imagination ; all 
 these magical delights cannot subdue the pow- 
 erful demon of ennui. 
 
 The multitude of distinguished artists, how- 
 ever, at Rome, gives an agreeable tone to the 
 conversation of the higher classes. In a city 
 where every artisan and valet de place, prides 
 himself upon being able to point out the beauties 
 of statuary and painting, and to display some 
 knowledge of antiquities, it is easy to conceive, 
 that artists occupy a much higher rank in socie- 
 than they do in other places, where even those 
 who have received a liberal education, are often 
 destitute of the first rudiments, of a taste for these 
 pursuits. To such, the language of artists must 
 be perfectly unintelligible, and in a mind not 
 enriched by reflections and observations on the 
 works of genius, it would be as difficult to ex- 
 cite a perception of that beauty which is the 
 object of them all, as to convey to a man born
 
 356 
 
 blind the idea of colour. But the Romans who 
 from their earliest youth have constantly before 
 their eyes, tlie fairest pieces of architecture, 
 painting and sculpture, must delight to hear a 
 language spoken which they understand, and 
 which is associated with impressions coeval 
 with the first dawn of their intellect. For this 
 reason they talk at Rome of the paintings of 
 Benvenuti, and the works of Canova, with the 
 seriousness that they talk at Paris of the opera, 
 or of the rival pretensions of Mademoiselles 
 George and Duchhnois. This species of con- 
 versation, while it is compatible with the most 
 perfect innocence, and yields to the heart and 
 imagination, the noblest enjoyments, affords 
 a powerful stimulus to excellence. Genius lan- 
 guishes in a community, where there do not 
 exist the same motives to excite and influence 
 it. It must be animated by the plaudits of the 
 crowd, as well by the praises of those few se- 
 lect minds on which taste and learning shed 
 their influence. Hence no atmosphere is so 
 congenial as that of Rome, to a mind am- 
 bitious of excellence in the fine arts. Here 
 Michael Angelo conceived the sublime model 
 of St. Peter's, and here Raphael meditated 
 the matchless performances of the Vatican. 
 Here only, Davide thought he could study the
 
 357 
 
 principles of painting, — and this haunt of the 
 muses, not all the allurements of Buonaparte 
 and Paris could tempt Canova to abandon. 
 
 I have often noticed this artist, and 
 some of his unrivalled performances. Every 
 one at Rome bears testimony to the candour 
 and ingenuousness of his character, and to the 
 amiable modesty with which he receives the 
 homage, which is universally paid to his talents. 
 The favourite of Buonaparte, he does not ap- 
 pear, however, on all occasions, to have yield- 
 ed an implicit obedience to the caprices of his 
 will. I have heard it frequently said, that in 
 all Canovcfs likenesses of Buonaparte, a strong 
 resemblance may be traced to the busts of Ne- 
 ro, and I recollect hearing a similar remark upon 
 the portraits of Madame Mere, by the same artist 
 and those of Agrippina. Did this not evince 
 a little mechancete in Canova, towards the 
 house of his imperial patron, or was the re- 
 semblance so strong in nature, as to render it 
 unavoidable, even in the hands of so great 
 an artist as Canova. Be this as it may, there 
 is good ground for believing that it was some 
 secret hostility to the reigning family, that at 
 so early a period after the return of Pius the 
 seventh, recommended him to the notice and 
 favours of that Pontiff,
 
 158 
 
 The busts of Napoleon by this artist, which 
 decorated many of the academies of Italy, had 
 been removed from their pedestals and thrown 
 into common lumber rooms. It was with the 
 utmost difficulty, that even a stranger could 
 obtain a sight of them ; so apprehensive are 
 the present government, it seems, of the least 
 circumstance, that may have a tendency to re- 
 call the malignant charm, by which he so long 
 enslaved the world, and so solicitous are they 
 to draw the veil of oblivion over his name 
 
 After a few general observations on the me- 
 rits of Canova, as an artist, I refer the reader 
 for a more particular account of his works, to 
 those parts of this volume, where they have 
 already been notice. 
 
 Canova, is undoubtedly the greatest of mo- 
 dern sculptors, and the only one, since Phi- 
 dias, and Praxiteles, who appears to have in- 
 herited the taste and genius of these great mas- 
 ters, and to have studied their works with 
 the truest devotion. To Michael Angela, the 
 praise of original genius is due, and that sub- 
 lime energy which he transfused into some 
 of his pieces, can never be too much admired. 
 But with the excellencies, he possessed the
 
 359 
 
 defects of an original mind. In his attempt 
 to reach that commanding vigour of expres- 
 sion, at which he aimed, he departs too much 
 from that model of ideal beauty, the essence 
 of which, seems to consist in its freedom, from 
 all emotions of the painful or violent kind. 
 How well this principle was known to the 
 artists of the Grecian school, appears, from 
 the celebrated statue of JK'iobe, in the Floren- 
 tine gallery, in whose countenance, the feel- 
 ings of maternal grief are so skilfully exhibited, 
 as not to mar its divine beauty. After Michael 
 Angelo t sculpture in the hands of Bernini and 
 his scholars, degenerated into affectation and ma- 
 nerism. Michael Angelo aimed at the religious 
 sublime, and it must be confessed, that if his 
 works have not the purity and grace of ancient 
 sculpture, his conceptions have a grandeur, 
 which it never reached. The school of Ber- 
 nini degraded the art, by making it con- 
 form to the taste of a particular nation, whilst 
 Phidias and Praxiteles endeavoured to fix 
 in their immortal works, that universal and 
 ideal form of beauty, which is almost too rerial 
 for the imagination to seize, by refining it as 
 much as possible, for every thing material and 
 terrestrial. To extract the essential elements of 
 beautv from those adventitious circumstances,
 
 360 
 
 with which in nature and real life they are 
 always found combined, is the office of taste. 
 Hence the gradual and insensible progress of this 
 faculty in nations, as well as individuals, from 
 the rudest efforts of design and carving, to the 
 transcendent performances of an Jpelles or 
 Phidias. The first of these artists is said to 
 have constellated in his figure of Venus, all 
 the scattered rays of beauty, which in his 
 time were to be found in Greece. The same 
 observation applies with equal justice to the 
 works of the statuary, in which is exhibited, 
 that pure and abstract conception of beauty, 
 at which ultimately taste arrives after a long 
 course of repeated experiment and observa- 
 tion. As this is the point which fixes limits 
 to its further progress, so here its dege- 
 neracy commences, after it has reached 
 its last degree of refinement. In the orna- 
 mental arts, as well as in the severer sci- 
 ences, our ineffectual struggles to push the 
 powers of the human mind, beyond the sphere 
 of their natural operations, reconduct it to bar- 
 barism and ignorance, by a course directly the 
 reverse of that, which leads human nature to 
 its last state of moral and intellectual improve- 
 ment. Nor is there any instance, which bet- 
 ter illustrates these principles of taste, than the
 
 361 
 
 history of the art, of which we have been 
 speaking. After the lapse of many centuries, 
 the genius of Canova has revived, with all its 
 primitive charms, that pure and ideal form of 
 beauty, for an account of whose growth and 
 period of maturity, we must have recourse to 
 the annals of Grecian refinement. 
 
 Many imagined that no sooner were the 
 masterpieces of the Vatican transported to the 
 banks of the Seine, than the arts would follow 
 them, but the unconquerable predeliction of 
 Canova for the seat of his early studies, and 
 the seducements that were so long employed 
 in vain by Buonaparte, to draw him to the 
 capitol of his empire, proves that, besides pos- 
 sessing the great works of antiquity, Rome in 
 the eye of an artist has attractions, which not 
 all the opulence and splendour of the imperial 
 court could communicate to Paris. The 
 chambers of the Vatican though despoiled of 
 their most precious ornaments, still retained a 
 sufficient number of works of approved excel- 
 lence, to enable it even after all the spoliations 
 committed by the French, to endure a com- 
 parison with the galleries of the Louvre, and 
 such statues as the Apollo of Belvidere, the 
 Laocoon, and the .4/itinous, had been so mul. 
 47
 
 362 
 
 tiplicd by means of excellent copies, that their 
 loss, except as a badge of the political degra- 
 dation of their country, was never severely felt 
 by the Roman artists. 
 
 The day of the restoration of the sublime 
 originals themselves to their ancient places in 
 the Vatican, was marked by an event, not sur- 
 passed in interest, by any similar occurrence, 
 since the revival of the arts. VVhen their arrival 
 near the city was announced, its artists and 
 amateurs accompanied by the principal eccle- 
 siastical and civil dignitaries of the Roman 
 state, and a great concourse of spectators, mar- 
 ched forth beyond the walls, to hail these 
 exiled divinities, and to conduct them in all 
 the pomp of a triumphal procession, back to 
 their native shrines, on the banks of the Ti- 
 ber. 
 
 Something there was, however, to shade 
 the brilliancy of that day, nor were the pub- 
 lick rejoicings on that occasion wholly unmix- 
 ed with regret. The sun of Napoleon's glory- 
 was setting, and the cannon of St. Angelo, 
 that announced the arrival of the Pope, and 
 the Apollo Belvidere, was the 4*nell of his 
 departed greatness !
 
 >63 
 
 The actual state of Italy affords little hope 
 that the future will present a view more hap- 
 py and prosperous. The defects in her present 
 governments display themselves every where, 
 in the condition of the lower orders, and as 
 they flow from causes that are deep and radi- 
 cal, there is little prospect that the feeble 
 sovereigns, under whose sway she is now pla- 
 ced, will be able to remove them. Much 
 good is expected in the Roman territories, 
 from the acknowledged abilities and profound 
 views of Cardinal Consalvi. This minister, 
 in order to conciliate the people, without sa- 
 crificing to their wishes the interests of his 
 sovereign, studies to appear the advocate of 
 liberal reform, and keeps up an illusion, 
 which contributes to reconcile the publick 
 feeling with a government, which the poiicy of 
 the French taught the mass of the people to 
 despise. This policy diminished the influence 
 of the clergy, and a sovereign, like Buona- 
 parte, had no religious scruples, no qualms of 
 conscience to check him in his career of bene- 
 ficence. If the clergy rebelled he treated 
 them as other rebels. He was a man who 
 paid little regard to names, wherever they 
 were employed as a cover to assist in opposing 
 his views. His remedies went to the root of
 
 364 
 
 the evil; those of the Cardinal Consalvi are 
 palliative, they allay the acuteness of the dis- 
 ease, but they are calculated to afford no per- 
 manent or substantial relief. 
 
 No country, perhaps, has suffered more 
 than Italy, from the oppression of overgrown 
 land-holders, and the imbecility inherent in 
 her present governments, helps to nourish and 
 perpetuate this abuse. Her tenures of landed 
 property are upon the worst footing. This is 
 the reason, why vast tracts of her soil lie waste 
 and uncultivated ; this is the cause of the in- 
 digence, in general, of her peasantry, and the 
 source of that frightful poverty, which exists 
 in a country enjoying the kindest influences 
 of Heaven. An extreme laxity prevails in 
 the present Italian governments, with regard 
 to the class of men, I have mentioned, who 
 are often tempted by a prospect of gain, to 
 enrich themselves, by a general calamity. 
 When I was in Tuscany, a lively indignation 
 was excited throughout the lower orders of the 
 people, against prince Corsini, who monopo- 
 lised the sale of grain in that country ; and at a 
 time, the people were literally starving through- 
 out Italy, the Duke of Modena was pur- 
 chasing grain in his dominions, and retailing it 
 out at an enormous profit to his own subjects.
 
 365 
 
 Other noblemen of great landed estates were 
 speculating, in a similar manner, on the mi- 
 series of the poor. The Pope, not more than 
 the grand Duke of Tuscany, appears to be 
 able or willing to suppress these petty tyrants, 
 while the people cry out, e una disgrazia d y 
 aver tanti soveranucci. 
 
 I have before remarked, that the policy of 
 Buonaparte was hostile to the spirit of feudal 
 oppression. It is undoubtedly the object of 
 a despotick prince, to crush every thing that 
 dares to raise its head above the level of a 
 base equality. I do not, therefore give, the 
 late emperour of France, credit for the relief 
 the poorer classes have generally experienced 
 in Italy, in consequence of the diminution 
 of the authority, and influence of its nobility. 
 The contempt and hatred, which it is natural 
 for a prince of arbitary disposition, to cher- 
 ish for privileged orders in general, would 
 have equally incited him to the ruin of a vir- 
 tuous, as of a profligate nobility, but when 
 we consider, the nature of the materials of 
 which, in general, the Italian aristocracy is 
 composed, and that if the ferocious features 
 of their progenitors are effaced, the milder
 
 366 
 
 traits by which they have been succeeded, 
 do not redeem the faults of character with 
 which they are blended, that even such ban- 
 ditti as the Orsini and Vitelli of ancient 
 times, whose destruction is considered by some 
 politicians as the fairest act of Casar Bor- 
 gia's life, notwithstanding all the circumstan- 
 ces of bad faith by which it was accomplish- 
 ed, that even the predatory lives of these har- 
 dy condottieri exhibits something more to 
 be admired, than any thing to be found in 
 the trifling or unmanly pursuits of these mo- 
 dern virtuosi^ I do not think it need cost 
 those who are sincerely interested in the wel- 
 fare of Italy, a pang of regret, to see the 
 power and influence of her nobility abridged, 
 although, thereby, the arm of arbitrary power 
 should be strengthened. 
 
 I have already noticed the insatiable cu- 
 riosity, which exists in Italy, relative to the 
 government of the United States. The idea 
 of an extensive country, flourishing and pros- 
 perous, to an eminent degree, in which here- 
 ditary monarchy, and an hereditary nobility 
 are unknown, possessed peculiar attractions 
 for a people, whom a lively sensibility to the
 
 367 
 
 oppressions, and a more enlightened view of 
 the theoretical evils of regal and aristocratick 
 institutions, were awakening to the charms 
 of liberty. It was easy to perceive, how 
 much the example of this country, had con- 
 tributed to unsettle, especially in the more 
 thinking classes of society, the ideas con- 
 nected with reverence to nobility, and sla- 
 vish obedience to kings. Hereditary monar- 
 chy and hereditary nobility depend upon illu- 
 sions, which the freedom of thinking of the 
 eighteenth century has contributed, in a great 
 measure, to dispel. The American revolu- 
 tion, and the subsequent events in Europe, 
 combined with the general diffusion of know- 
 ledge, have enlightened on this subject the 
 mass of mankind, throughout the civilized 
 world. The late government of France has 
 also had an important influence, in accelera- 
 ting this change in publick sentiment. In 
 that government, talents of almost every des- 
 cription were made, if I may be allowed the 
 expression, to gravitate from the lower to 
 the higher regions of the state. Not only 
 all the physical resources, but all its moral 
 and intellectual energies, were pressed into 
 its service. Whilst such a government exis-
 
 368 
 
 ted, it must have largely contributed to weak- 
 en those props, upon which the old go- 
 vernments of Europe were forced to lean for 
 support and conservation. These props were 
 an hereditary monarchy, and hereditary nobi- 
 lity. Into whatever country France carried 
 her arms, it was her object, as far as she 
 could put it in execution, to destroy the an- 
 cient nobility of the land, and to efface from 
 the soil every vestige of this nature, which 
 might serve hereafter as a rallying point to 
 the people. 
 
 The splendour of high birth was eclipsed 
 by the lustre of the talents civil and military 
 of those, who under the late dynasty were the 
 founders of their own fortunes. The rest, 
 less ambition and activity of mind, which 
 was necessary to preserve the reputation they 
 had acquired, and the prodigies of genius 
 and valour displayed by many of these mili- 
 tary adventurers, threw into the shade that 
 glory which is derived from a remote ancestry, 
 and contributed to sink in the estimation of 
 the mass of the people of Europe, the pre- 
 tensions of those, who had no other proof to 
 exhibit of their merit, but the attestation 
 of a coronet, or the register of an herald's 
 office.
 
 369 
 
 Let it not, however, be understood that I 
 think the abolition of privileged orders, a 
 thing either attainable or desirable in the pre- 
 sent state of Europe. This is one of those 
 events depending upon causes, which time 
 is required to mature. Any violent eradi- 
 cation of institutions, which have struck 
 their roots so deep and wide, would be at- 
 tended with a sudden and ruinous convulsion 
 of the whole social fabnek. To use the 
 language of Mr. Burke^ " I do not wish to 
 " see any void produced in society, any 
 " ruin on the f;ice of the land." But the 
 " Corinthian capital of polished society," 
 must fall when it shall no longer be essential to 
 the solidity of the political edifice. Some in- 
 stitutions were necessary in the infancy of 
 society, to rear to maturity the causes, 
 which were finally destined to subvert them. 
 Learning took root, and flourished under 
 the shade of the papal power, which it after- 
 wards destroyed, and a body of men deco- 
 rated with honours, and fortified by privi- 
 leges, when the population of Europe was 
 buried in slavery and ignorance, was per- 
 haps necessary, to preserve the sentiment of 
 honour from extinction. But we see this 
 
 48
 
 370 
 
 sentiment beginning now to pervade all classes, 
 
 and gradually obliterating these artificial dis- 
 tinctions, and hastening the arrival of the pe- 
 riod, when personal acquired nobility, shall 
 supersede the necessity of privileged orders. 
 
 " We first," says an eloquent writer, 
 " throw away the tales along with the rattles 
 " of our nurses ; those of the priest, keep 
 " their hold a little longer, those of our 
 " governours, the longest of all ; but the 
 " props which uphold these opinions are 
 " withdrawn one after another, and the cool 
 " light of reason, at the setting of our life, 
 " shews us, what a false splendour played 
 " upon these objects during our more san- 
 " guine seasons." Such has been the pro- 
 gress of social and moral refinement in Eu- 
 rope. The marvellous tales of monkish legends, 
 occupied the dark agts that gave them birth. 
 Upon this soil, pregnant with errours and su- 
 perstitions, civil and ecclesiastical tyranny, 
 flourished with a rank luxuriance. More 
 than three centuries have elapsed, since the 
 thunders of the Vatican have ceased to roll ; 
 and if we look back and reflect upon the 
 cause that subverted the dominion of the Pope,
 
 371 
 
 and disarmed him of his spiritual lightnings, 
 it is not romantick to hope that the arms 
 of civil despotism, which were tempered in 
 the same forge, are destined to perish by the 
 operation of the same powerful agent. 
 
 THE END.
 
 NOTE. 
 
 THE FLORENTINE GALLERY OF ANATOMY. 
 
 The author, hoping at some future pe- 
 riod to be able to offer to the publick a gene- 
 ral view of the literature of Italy, has not said 
 any thing in the foregoing pages, of the actual 
 state of physical science in that country, nor of 
 some ofthost splendid establishments for its pro- 
 motion, with which a succession of ages has en- 
 riched her. He has therefore omitted a des- 
 cription of the Florentine gallery of natural 
 history, so justly extolled, in many respects, for 
 the beauty and variety of its anatomical prepa- 
 parations. The author examined this collec- 
 tion, with a curiosity proportionate to the idea 
 he had been led to form of it from report, and 
 to his fondness for a study, which early drew 
 his attention. He thinks it but justice to his 
 native city to declare, that the specimens apper- 
 taining tO the UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND* 
 constituting the basis of a future gallery, are not 
 surpassed in point of beauty and faithfulness 
 of execution, by any thing of the same kind 
 he has seen abroad, and are highly creditable 
 to the professional skill and abilities of the 
 gentleman, who directs the surgical depart- 
 ment, and under whose care it bids fair to ri-
 
 val even the splendid collection at Florence. 
 The author subjoins this note, the more readi- 
 ly, as he perceives a disposition too generally 
 prevalent in this country, to concur with foreign- 
 ers, in depreciating the value of our own stock 
 of science, and in overrating that knowledge, 
 which is derived from foreign institutions.
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 7, line 21, for Carybdis read Charybdis. 
 
 11, 19, for she read if. 
 
 23, 9, for Italian rf-ad Italians. 
 
 23, 8, for would read should. 
 
 31, 12, for people read nation. 
 
 79, 18, for conversazzione read conversazione. 
 
 80, 3, ibidem. 
 
 82, 22, for theatre read theatres. 
 
 82, 25, for Phenice read Fenice. 
 
 84, 10, for diletante read dilettante. 
 
 88, 24, omit /Ae before musical. 
 
 119, 20, & 21, for seemed to stand read stood- 
 
 120, 11, omit for and insert it. 
 120, 12, before the humble. 
 321, 20, insert the before loves, 
 143, 23, for counsel read council. 
 159, 6, omit and after figure. 
 
 166, for, bestrided read bestridden. 
 
 187, 8, & 9, for gondoliere read gondolieri. 
 
 195, in the note, for has been renovated, read have &C- 
 
 202, 7, for was any other read was no other. 
 
 215, for dissections read dissection. 
 
 221, in the second verse' for burn't read bum'd 
 
 222, 9, for thickets read fountains. 
 234, 2, before dreariness insert the. 
 
 237, for de suo cuore read del suo cuore. 
 
 237, 9, for even read ever. 
 
 246, 7, 8, & 53, for Appenhies read Apennines- 
 
 257, &. 8, for Pierro read Piero. 
 
 272, last line for places read place. 
 
 277, 16, for is read are. 
 
 282, 9, for render read renders. 
 
 282, 10, for endow read endows- 
 
 282, 1 5, for renders read render. 
 
 283, 17, for give read gives. 
 
 286, for lhinellesco read Brunellesco, 
 
 288, 4, insert the before forms. 
 
 292, for Valsmium read Volsinium. 
 
 298, 7, omit the before sanctuary. 
 
 310, 8, for the church read churches. 
 
 370, 21, for he presents read represents. 
 313, & 15, for majore read Maggiore. 
 
 319, 21, for wept over read wept at. 
 
 322, 4, for lead, leads, and for was, is. 
 
 358, 16, for notice read noticed.
 
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