GUIDO ARETINUS & POPE JOHN. XX.
THE
Habitable World
DESCRIBED.
Inscribed by Permission to His Royal Highness Frederick
DUKE OF YORK, &c. &c.
HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE
LONDON: Published as the Act directs, by the Author. No . 62. Wardour Street Soho.
1795.
THE HABITABLE WORLD DESCRIBED, OR THE PRESENT STATE OF THE PEOPLE IN ALL PARTS OF THE GLOBE, FROM NORTH TO SOUTH; SHEWING The Situation, Extent, Climate, Production, Animals, &c. &c. of the different Kingdoms and States.
Including all the new Discoveries: TOGETHER WITH The Genius, Manners, Customs, Trade, Religion, Forms of Government, &c. of the Inhabitants, and every thing respecting them, that can be either entertaining or informing to the Reader, collected from the earliest and latest Accounts of Historians and Travellers of all Nations;
With some that have never been published in this Kingdom;
And nothing advanced but on the best Authorities.
WITH A great Variety of MAPS and COPPER-PLATES, engraved in a capital Style, the Subjects of which are mostly
new,
and such as have never yet been given in any English work.
BY THE REV. DR. JOHN TRUSLER.
VOL. XVII.
LONDON:
Printed for the AUTHOR, and sold by J. PARSONS, Paternoster-Row, and all Booksellers.
M DCC XCV.
CELESTEN III. KICKING the CROWN from the head of the EMPEROR HEN. VI.
ECCLESIASTICAL TERRITORIES.
CHAP. X.
Papal Government.
ACCORDING to the canon law, the Pope is the supreme, universal, and independent head of the church, and invested with sovereignty over all Christian communities, and every individual member thereof. He can prescribe laws to the whole world. What he does, is as if God himself had done it, he being god upon earth. All sovereigns must pay homage to him. He may depose both disobedient and ill-governing princes, and give their dominions to others.
Celestin
III. on the day after Easter, in the year 1190, then in the 86th year of his age, had no sooner placed the crown on the head of the Emperor
Henry
VI. at Rome, than he kicked it off again, as a testimony of the power residing in the sovereign Pontiff, to make, and un-make Emperors at his pleasure.
He has a right to examine any person promoted to a kingdom, and may require an oath of allegiance from him. On the vacancy of a throne, the government devolves to him. He has the right, in all the states, to use both the temporal and spiritual sword. If a prince be remiss in government, he may appoint him a colleague, or substitute him another in his stead. He can legitimate children born out of marriage, and thereby make them capable of succeeding to a crown, &c. Such is the political system of the court of Rome; which, notwithstanding its absurdity, impiety, and danger, was no less impudently, than ambitiously obtruded upon the world, and even for some ages, tyrannically put in practice. It is chiefly owing to the reformation, that these corrupt maxims are, at present, treated by the rational part of Christendom, with mockery and contempt, and that the Pope has lost great part of the formidable power he assumed. Providence, in the sixteenth century, was pleased to bring about this reformation, in the person of
Luther;
a man who attempted, and performed, more than many emperors and kings could have compassed; and, indeed, neither equalled by any, from the apostles time, to his own, nor since.
However, with respect to those countries, immediately subject to the Pope, his power is still the most absolute of all others. The authority of European monarchs, besides being limited by the fundamental laws, by the ordinances of their predecessors, by their coronation oath, is balanced by intermediate powers; such as the states-general, the first bodies of the states, &c. The grand signior, himself, depends as much on the Janissaries, as the Roman emperors depended on their army; and, the mufti, though appointed by him, and removable at pleasure, is so far the more formidable; as, if he contends with his sovereign, being always certain of carrying his point.
There is no law made, either by themselves or their predecessors, from which the popes cannot derogate; they have only, for form's sake, to declare the law, which they intend to annul; the want even of this form would not prevent the operation of a new law; it would serve only to open a future pretext, or means of pleading against it.
The Pope, remarks
Puffendorf,
does not, like other sovereigns, bind himself to any terms, on his entering upon the government; and, indeed, it would be absurd for him, who is said to be guided by the Holy Ghost, to be laid under any restrictions.
In most other nations, it has been thought necessary to make the crown hereditary, but this would not suit the Papal government; for (as it will occasionally happen in all governments) it would not have a good appearance, to see the supreme vicar of
Christ
riding on a hobby-horse; or, to see the supreme spiritual director of Christendom, himself, going to school.
In the first class of the spiritual forces belonging to his Holiness are the cardinals; who are acknowledged princes of the church, and pretend to be next in dignity to crowned heads. They were, originally, no more than parish priests of Rome, whose number was, more or less, till it was fixed to seventy-two, in allusion to the disciples of
Christ.
In ancient times, this name was common to the presbyters and deacons of great churches in cities. But, in the eleventh century, the presbyters, and deacons of the church of Rome, restrained the appellation to themselves; and, as the dignity of the Pope increased, so did theirs; the first deacon of this affected grandeur appearing under Pope
Nicholas
II.
Innocent
IV. gave them the red hat at the council of Lyons, in 1243.
Boniface
VIII. gave them the scarlet robes. From
Urban
VIII. the title of
Eminentissimus;
whereas, before they were only stiled
Illustrissimus,
in common with other bishops and prelates. The red hat is an emblem of their readiness to shed their blood for the Catholic faith, though the cardinals make no great figure in the list of martyrs. It is certain that, upon the whole, the scarlet vestment is very becoming; even the dead cardinals are painted with this colour, in order to set off their cadaverous visages.
The Pope holds a consistory of cardinals on ecclesiastical affairs; but they never intermeddle with his civil government. The Pope is chosen from among the cardinals. Formerly, the bishop of Rome was chosen by the clergy and people, and afterwards confirmed by the Emperor; by whom also, he was sometimes suspended for turbulent and seditious practices!
Sixtus
V. at the council of Basil, says
Busching,
fixed their number at seventy; which is seldom complete. They are divided into three classes: six cardinal bishops; fifty cardinal priests; and fourteen cardinal deacons. The deans of these three classes are called their chiefs. Each of the cardinal-priests and deacons, bears the title of a church, in the city of Rome. The cardinals insist on the precedence before the Electors of the Empire, and require to be treated on the same footing as crowned heads. The title of cardinal has no revenue annexed to it; but embassies, protections of Roman Catholic nations, governments, archbishoprics, bishoprics, prelacies, and other ecclesiastical benefices, enable them to live in state, though not suitably to the rank they assume; more especially when, being of mean extraction, they have no fortune of their own. These cardinals are from all nations; but the majority are always Italians, that the chair may not be removed from Rome, as it was once to Avignon, by
Clement
V.
The conclave is the theatre on which the cardinals chiefly endeavour to give proofs of their genius and address: and many are the transactions there, which can hardly be thought to proceed from the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. The decease of the Pope is made known to the people of Rome, by tolling the great bell of the capitol, firing the cannon of the castle of St.
Angelo,
and opening the prisons; and, to foreign cardinals, by circular letters from the Cardinal
Cammerlingo;
who invites them to the approaching cocnlave. Till such time as the conclave meet, the
Cammerlingo
acts as regent; is attended with the Pope's life-guard, and orders all things necessary for the opening of the conclave, which is held in the galleries, and some of the antichambers of the Vatican, and consists of a number of small rooms, separated by wooden partitions, and distributed by lot, both among the cardinals then at Rome, and those that are absent. Each usually has two; one for himself, and one for his conclavists, or two attendants. On the eleventh day, after the Pope's decease, all the cardinals in the city meet in the morning in St.
Peter
's church, where the mass
sancti spiritus
is celebrated; and, after a sermon on the duties to be observed, in the election of a Pope, they proceed two by two into the conclave, which is then shut up by the governor and marshal, none being let out, unless in case of illness, till a new Pope is elected; and the person so let out, is not allowed to return. The governor of the conclave is always previously chosen by the cardinals; and, together with the marshal, resides at the entrance of the Vatican. Without their express licence, no person is suffered to go in or out. Whilst the cardinals sit in conclave, refreshments are brought to them in baskets, or boxes, which are searched, though not with much strictness. Every conclave is said to stand the apostolic chamber, in two thousand, or, according to some, in three thousand crowns. Each cardinal orders his conclavist to write down, on a slip of paper, the name of the person to whom he gives his suffrage for being elected Pope. This is thrown into a chalice, on the altar of the chapel of the conclave, so called from
Sixtus
IV. Two cardinals, appointed for that purpose, successively read aloud the notes, marking the number of votes for every cardinal. He, who has two-thirds, is declared Pope, otherwise the scrutiny is repeated till this number is complete. If this manner of election does not take place, recourse is had to another, called
accessus,
whereby the notes of the ormer scrutiny being set aside, every cardinal must give, in writing, his vote to another; and, if by this way two-thirds do not appear, there is still another resource, called
inspiratio;
in virtue of which, such of the cardinals, as are unanimous, come out of their cells, and call aloud to each other;
such a one shall be Pope! Such a one shall be Pope!
Upon which others, to avoid incurring the displeasure of the new-elected Pope, join in the cry; and thus the election is carried. If this also fails, the scrutiny begins anew; and a conclave in this manner sometimes proves a very tedious business. The Emperors, France and Spain, are allowed to exclude a person proposed for the popedom: but this protest must be made before the complete declaration of the votes for such a person. It is required, that the Pope be an Italian, and at least fifty-five years of age; though the age, most insisted upon, is between sixty and seventy. When the election is over, and the Pope has declared what name he will bear for the future, the chief of the cardinal-deacons proclaims him to the people; of which, on these occasions, great multitudes stand expecting, in St.
Peter
's place. His coronation, with a triple crown, is generally performed eight days after.
The consistory of cardinals is the Pope's high council. Its ordinary meeting is once a week, in the papal palace; but, the extraordinary depends on his Holiness's pleasure. Here are discussed all affairs, both spiritual and temporal, of the papal see; such as filling up vacant archbishoprics, bishoprics, prelacies, abbies, &c. Every nation of the Roman church has a cardinal for its protector. The inferior colleges are called congregations, as the congregation of the sacred office or inquisition; the congregation
de propaganda fide,
and those of religious ceremonies, and the examination of candidates for ecclesiastical benefices. The cardinals preside in these congregations. The
Rota Romano
is a kind of supreme court of judicature, or appeal in civil causes, where every Roman Catholic nation has one or two assessors. Collations to ecclesiastical benefices, dispensations, &c. are made out in the
datary
(chancery) so called from the usual signature
Datum Romoe apud Sanctum Petrum,
&c. when the Pope is at the Vatican; but, if he is at the Quirinal palace,
apud sanctam Mariam majorem.
The consulta takes cognisance of the complaints of the people against the governors, and of appeals from their sentences. All cities, those excepted which have legates, send their malefactors to Rome, where they are tried. In both criminal and civil processes, a rehearing may be obtained; and, after that, recourse had to the Pope; by this, punishment falls only on such forlorn wretches as are destitute of all kind of protection; and executions are as rare as crimes are frequent. Besides, the greatest malefactors often escape by means of the asylums, whose ancient privileges still subsist. The corporal punishments are the strapado, gallies, gibbet, and knocking down. The last is inflicted in this manner: the executioner strikes the culprit on one of his temples with a club, so that he drops down senseless, he then cuts his throat, and quarters his body, which is hung up on gibbets at the place of execution. This punishment may be less painful to the criminal than the wheel, but it is more shocking to the spectators.
It may not be amiss to observe, that it is now above a century since any person has been put to death by the inquisition. Every thing here is transacted in private, by spiritual and pecuniary penalties. None undergo public punishment, but blasphemers, and those picked out from among the refuse of the people.
When a memorial, or petition is delivered to the Pope, and returned with
Lectum,
or read, written on it, this is anill omen; and indicates, that it has, indeed, been read; but, at least, for the present, will not be granted; the softening a denial in this manner has some affinity with the phrase used by
Henry
IV. of France;
Nous verrons,
"We'll see!"
For preventing all disorders and tumults, there is, at Rome, says
Keysler,
a corps of three hundred sbirri, commanded by a captain, who is called
Il Barigello;
he is distinguished from the rest by a chain and medal; and, when he has a mind to be known, he wears the chain about his neck. The high police, says
Grosley,
is in the department of Rome; who, with some assessors, judges without appeal. The apostolic chamber allows him a thousand sbirri, according to this writer, five hundred fort watchmen, and three hundred spies, who daily report to him what is doing in Rome. By these arrangements, the police has long since been on a very good footing at Rome; it has an eye to every thing, without shewing itself, or being felt. The sbirri are not in any great esteem; they, however, keep the populace in awe, and that suffices; people of credit seldom having any thing to do with the police.
There is also a police of health, to whom report is made of every creature dying at Rome, men, women, and beasts, down to the very cats. The office, in consideration of a settled fee, has the bodies removed, and takes care that they are put under ground. The most fleshy parts of dead horses, whose distemper is not contagious, are left to
fachini,
or porters, who distribute them about as a dinner for cats; a creature of which the people of Rome are very fond; but, for whom the frugality of their tables does not provide a subsistance. This distribution is really something entertaining; the
fachino,
attended by two mastiffs, has a large knife in his hand, and on one of his shoulders a stick; from the two ends of which hang the surloins of horses, which he keeps in balance, by alternately turning the stick from one shoulder to the other: the cats, on hearing the distributors, instantly shew themselves at the windows, in the gutters, and at the doors, according as their dinner is near, or at some distance. I have seen, says
Grosley,
five or six very fine sleek cats, regularly drawn up at the doors of several houses, waiting for, and successively receiving, their allowance, without any quarrel, disorder, or confusion; those of the following houses came out into the streets; and the more bold ones came about the purveyor's legs, and those of his dogs, who do not seem displeased with these caresses. This distribution is made daily, and at a settled rate.
The Pope, at certain times, performs mass himself at St
Peter
's, and in the most solemn manner. I happened lately, says
Moore,
to be at St.
Peter
's, when there was scarcely any body there. While I lounged from chapel to chapel, looking at the sculpture and paintings, the Pope entered, with a very few attendants; when he came to the statue of St.
Peter,
he was not satisfied with bowing, the usual mark of respect shewn to that image; or with kneeling, which is performed by more zealous persons; or with kissing the foot, which generally concludes the climax of devotion; he bowed, he knelt, he kissed the foot, and then he rubbed the forehead, and temples, with every mark of humility, fervour and adoration, upon the sacred stump; for it is no more, one half of the foot having been long since worn away by the lips of the pious; and if the example of his Holiness is universally imitated, nothing but a miracle can prevent the leg, thigh, and other parts from meeting the same fate.
The manner in which the generality of sovereign princes pass their time is far from being amusing, or agreeable. Slaves to the tiresome routine of etiquette, and martyrs to the oppressive fatigue of pomp, they are constrained to walk, every levee day, around the same dull circle, to gratify the vanity of fifty, or a hundred people, by whispering a something, or a nothing, into the ears of each. They are obliged to wear a smiling countenance, even when their hearts are oppressed with sadness. Besieged by the craving faces of those who are more displeased at what is withheld than grateful for the favours that have been granted; and surrounded by adepts in the art of simulation, how can they be free from assumed attachments? And what risk do they run of placing their confidence, where they ought to have directed their indignation? If we add to all these inconveniences that they are precluded from those delightful sensations arising from disinterested friendship, sweet equality, and the gay careless enjoyments of social life? We must acknowledge that all that is brilliant, in their exalted stations, is not sufficient to compensate for such restraints, and such deprivations.
So far are we indeed from considering that condition as enviable, great part of mankind are more apt to think it insupportable; and are surprized to find that those unhappy men, whom fate has condemned to suffer the pains of royalty for life, are able to wait with patience for the natural period of their days. But, strange as it may appear, history does not furnish us with one instance, not even in Great Britain, of a king who hanged, or drowned, or put himself to death in any violent manner. The storms, to which people in their exalted situation are exposed, occasion such agitations, as prevent the stagnating slime of taedium from gathering on their minds. That kings do not commit suicide, therefore, is but a very slender presumption of the happiness of their condition; although it is a strong proof that all the hurricanes of life are not so unsupportable to the human mind, as that insipid, fearless, hopeless calm, which envelops men, who are devoid of mental enjoyments, and whose senses are palled with satiety.
There are passions whose indulgence is so flattering to the vanity of men, that they will gratify them, though persuaded that their gratification will be attended with disappointment and misery. The love of power and sovereignty is of this class. It has been a general belief, ever since the kingly office was established among men, that cares and anxiety were the constant attendants on royalty. Yet this general conviction never made a single person decline an opportunity of embarking on this sea of troubles. Every new adventurer flatters himself that he shall be guided by some happy star, undiscovered by former navigators; and those, who after trial have relinquished the voyage, like
Charles
V.
Christina
Queen of Sweden,
Amadoeus,
and others, when they had quitted the helm, and were safely arrived in port, are said to have languished all the rest of their lives, for that situation, which their own experience taught them was fraught with misery.
But of all the diadems, the tiara seems to have the fewest charms; and nothing can afford a stronger proof of man's passion for sovereign power, than that this ecclesiastical crown is sought after with as much eagerness, perhaps with more, than any other crown in the world; although the candidates are, generally, in the decline of life; and all of a profession which avows the most perfect contempt of all worldly grandeur. This appears the more wonderful when we reflect that, over and above those sources of weariness and vexation, which the Pope has in common with other sovereigns, he has some which are peculiar to himself: such as the tiresome religious functions he must perform, the congenial solitude of his meals, exclusive of the conversation and company of women; restriction from the tenderest and most delightful connexions in life, from the endearments of a parent, and the open acknwledgment of his own children; his mind oppressed with the gloomy reflection that the man for whom he has the least regard, perhaps his greatest enemy, may be his immediate successor; to which is added the pain of seeing his influence, both spiritual and temporal, declining every day; and the mortification of knowing that all his ancient lofty pretensions are laughed at, by one half of the Roman Catholics, all the Protestants, and totally disregarded by the rest of mankind.
All popes, however, remarks
Grosley,
have not been slaves to the troublesome ceremonials of their station.
Leo
X. and
Sixtus
V. found means to shake these off.
Innocent
XI. though ranked by the Romans among the saints, during the greater part of his Pontificate, smuggled himself from the ecclesiastical solemnities. A cold, or a defluxion, often stood him in good stead, on the most indispensible occasions. Ever invisible, he governed his dominions as God governs the world. His melancholy cast, and the austerity of his temper, infecting all about him, spread a gloom in which Rome was involved, during his Pontificate.
Benedict
XIV. had excluded the ceremonials of office, from a little apartment he erected in the gardens of Monte Cavallo; here he generally retired after dinner to drink his coffee; and, with his most intimate friends, and some select foreigners, would sacri-to mirth and humour, as if he had been only a private individual. His excursions into Rome were generally on foot, with a large cane in his hand; and so far from confining himself to those streets where sand is strewed every day, through which the Pope is supposed to pass, he would go into little bye streets, where pope was never before seen; he has even, more than once, stopped at the door of a public-house, where people were making merry, and would say to his usual attendant, "I warrant you, Monsignor, there is rare wine here."
Of all the popes, the most liberal in this way of thinking, was the famous
Ganganelli.
He restrained the malevolence of bigots, removed absurd prejudices, and promoted sentiments of charity, and good-will to mankind, without excepting even heretics. His enemies, the Jesuits, with an intention to render him odious, gave him the name of the Protestant Pope. If they supposed this calumny would be credited, on account of that conduct of his, which they condemned, they at once paid the highest compliment to the Pope, and the protestant religion.
Among many anecdotes of
Ganganelli's
goodness of heart, the following is one. A Scotch presbyterian, having heated his brain by reading
Fox
's book of Martyrs, and the history of the persecutions that were raised against the protestants, was seized with a dread that the same horrors were going to be renewed. This terrible idea disturbed his imagination, day and night; he thought of nothing but racks and scaffolds; and, on one occasion, dreamt there was a continued train of bonfires, all the way from Smithfield to St.
Andrews,
with a tar-barrel and a protestant in each. He communicated his anxiety and distress of mind to a worthy clergyman, who lived in the neighbourhood. This gentleman took great pains to quiet him, by proving that there was no danger of such an event as he dreaded. These reasonings had a powerful effect, for a while; but were always effaced by a fresh perusal of the book of Martyrs. As soon as the clergyman remarked this, he advised his relations to remove that, and every other book, which treated of persecution and martyrdom, out of the poor man's reach. They did so, and books of a less gloomy complexion were substituted in their place; but, as they all formed a strong contrast to the colour of his mind, he could not bear the perusal of them; but betook himself entirely to the study of the bible; which was the only book of his ancient library that had been left him; and so strong a hold had his former studies taken of his imagination, that he could bear perusing no part of the bible, except the Revelations of St.
John;
a great part of which he thought referred to the Pope of Rome, under the denomination of the Whore of Babylon. This part of the scripture he perused, continually, with unabated ardour and delight. His friend, the clergyman, observing this, took occasion to tell him, that every part of the bible was no doubt most sublime, and instructive; but he wondered to see that he limited his studies entirely to the last book, and neglected all the rest. To which the other replied, that he who was a divine, and a man of learning, might, with propriety, read the whole of the bible, from beginning to end; but that, for his part, he thought proper to confine himself to those passages he could understand; and therefore, though he entertained a great veneration for the whole of the sacred scriptures, he gave a preference to the Revelations. This reply satisfied the clergyman; he did not think it expedient to question him any farther, but took his leave; after having recommended his relations to have a watchful eye over him. In the mean time this poor man's terrors daily augmented; and his shattered frame would, in all probability, have sunk under the accumulated weight of so much anxiety, had not a thought occurred to him which relieved his mind in an instant. This was no other than to go immediately to Rome, and convert the Pope. The moment he hit on this expedient, he felt the strongest impulse to undertake the task, and the fullest conviction that his labours would be crowned with success; it is no wonder therefore that his countenance threw off its former gloom, and his features brightened with the heart-felt thrillings of happiness and self-applause. While his relations were congratulating each other, on this agreeable change, the exulting visionary, without communicating his design to any one, set out for London, took his passage for Leghorn, and, in a short time after, arrived at Rome.
He directly applied to an ecclesiastic of his own country, of whose obliging disposition he had been previously informed. He told this gentleman he earnestly wished to have a conference with the Pope, on a business of importance; and which admitted no delay. It was not difficult to perceive the state of this poor man's mind; and the good natured ecclesiastic endeavoured to soothe and amuse him, by putting off the conference to a distant day; in hopes that means might be fallen upon, during the interval, to prevail on him to return to his own country. A few days after, however, he happened to go to St.
Peter
's church, at the time his Holiness was performing some religious ceremony. At this sight our impetuous missionary felt all his passions inflamed with irresistible ardour; he could no longer wait the expected conference; but, bursting out with fiery indignation, he exclaimed, "O thou beast of nature, with seven heads and ten horns! thou mother of harlots, arrayed in purple and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious stones! throw away thy golden cup of abomination, and the filth of thy fornication." It may easily be imagined the astonishment and hubbub that such an apostrophe, from such a pious person, must have occasioned; he was immediately laid hold of, by the Swiss halberdiers, and conveyed to prison.
When it was known he was a British subject, some who understood English were ordered to attend his examination. The first question asked of him was, "What had brought him to Rome?" He answered, "To anoint the eyes of the scarlet whore with eye-salve, that she might see her wickedness." They asked him, "Who he meant by the scarlet whore?" He answered, "Who else could he mean, but her who sitteth upon seven mountains, who hath seduced the kings of the earth to commit fornication; and who hath gotten drunk with the blood of the saints and martyrs." Many more questions were asked, and such provoking answers returned, that some thought he affected madness, to give vent to his rancour and petulance with impunity; and they were for having him condemned to the gallies, to be taught more sense and better manners. But when they communicated their sentiments to
Ganganelli,
he said, with great good humour, "That he had never heard of any person whose understanding, or whose morals, had been much improved in that school; that although the poor man's first address had been a little abrupt and rough, yet he could not but consider himself as obliged to him for his good intentions; and for undertaking so long a journey, with a view of doing good." He afterwards gave orders that the man should be treated with gentleness, while he remained in confinement, and to put him on board the first ship, bound from Civita Vecchia to England, defraying the expence of his passage.
However humane and reasonable this conduct may be thought by many, there were people who condemned it as injudicious lenity, which might have a tendency to lessen the dignity of the sacred office, and expose it to future insults. If such behaviour as this did not pass without blame, it may easily be supposed that few of
Ganganelli
's actions escaped uncensured; and many who loved the easy amiable disposition of the man, were of opinion that the spirit of the times required a different character in the Papal throne. This idea prevailed among the cardinals at the next election, and the conclave is supposed to have fixed on his successor, from the same motive that the Roman senate sometimes chose a dictator, to enforce the ancient discipline.
CHAP. XI.
Crimes, Punishments, and Executions.
TRAVELLERS, remarks
Moore,
are too apt to form hasty, and, for the most part, unfavourable opinions of national characters. Finding the customs and sentiments of the inhabitants of foreign countries, through which they pass, very different from their own, they are ready to consider them as erroneous; and conclude that those who act, and think, in a manner so opposite to themselves, must be either knaves, fools, or both. In such hasty decisions they are often confirmed by the partial representations of a few of their own countrymen; or of other foreigners who are established in some professions in those countries; and who have an interest in giving bad impressions of the people, among whom they reside.
That the Italians have a great share of natural sagacity, and acuteness, is pretty generally allowed; but they are accused of being deceitful, perfidious, and revengeful; and the frequent assassinations and murders, which happen in the great towns of Italy, are brought as proofs of this charge. I have not, says the above writer, remained a sufficient length of time in this country, supposing I were, in all other respects, qualified to decide on the character of the inhabitants; but, from the opportunities I have had, my idea of the Italians is, that they are an ingenious, sober people, with quick feelings, and therefore irritable; but, when unprovoked, of a mild and obliging disposition; and less subject to avarice, envy, or repining at the narrowness of their own circumstances, and the comparative wealth of others, than most nations. The murders, which occasionally happen, proceed from a deplorable want of police; and some very impolitic customs, which have, from various causes, crept among them; and would produce more frequent examples of the same kind, if they prevailed to the same degree, in some other countries. But, however, the assassinations which disgrace Italy, whatever may have been the case formerly, are now entirely confined to the accidental squabbles which occur among the rabble. No such thing has been known for many years past, among people of condition, or the middle rank of citizens; and, with regard to the stabbings which happen among the vulgar, they, almost always, proceed from an immediate impulse of wrath; and are seldom the effect of previous malice, or a premeditated plan of revenge. Whether the stories we have of mercenary bravos, men who formerly are supposed to have made it their profession to assassinate, and live by the murders they committed, be founded in truth, is mere conjecture; but this is certain, that at present there is no such traffic going forward. That the horrid practice of drawing the knife, and stabbing each other, still subsists among the Italian vulgar, is owing to the scandalous impunity with which it is treated. The asylum, which churches and convents offer to crimiminals, operates against the peace of society; and tends to the encouragement of this shocking custom, in two different manners. First, by increasing the criminal's hope of escaping; and secondly, by diminishing, in vulgar minds, the atrocity of the crime. When the populace see a murderer lodged within the sacred walls of a church, protected and fed by men who are revered on account of their profession, and the supposed sanctity of their lives, must not this weaken the horror, which mankind naturally have for such a crime; and which it ought to be the aim of every government to augment?
Those who are willing to admit that this last consideration may have the effect ascribed to it, on the minds of the vulgar, still contend that the hopes of impunity can have little influence in keeping up the practice of stabbing; because, as has been already observed, these stabbings are always in consequence of accidental quarrels, and sudden bursts of passion, in which men have no consideration about their future safety. In answer to this, it may be observed, there are certain considerations, which never entirely leave their influence on the minds of men; even when they are in the height of passion. We every day see men who have the character of being of the most ungovernable tempers, who are apt to fly into violent fits of passion, upon the most trivial occasions, yet, in the midst of all their rage, and when they seem to be entirely blinded by fury, are still capable of making distinctions; which plainly evince they are not so much blindfolded by anger, as they would seem to be. When people are subject to violent fits of choler, and to an unrestrained licence of words and actions, only in the company of those who, from their unfortunate situation in life, are obliged to bear such abuse, it is a plain proof that considerations, which regard their own personal safety, have some influence on their minds, in the midst of their fury, and instruct them to be mad,
certa ratione modoque.
This is frequently unknown to those choleric people themselves, whilst it is fully evident to every person around them. In what violent fits of passion do men indulge themselves, against their slaves and servants; imputing their rage to the ungovernable nature of their tempers; of which, however, they have the most perfect command, on much greater provocations given them by their superiors, equals, or by any set of people not obliged to bear their ill-humours? How often do we see men, agreeable, chearful, polite and good tempered in public; yet gloomy, peevish, and passionate to their wives and children? Should you happen to be witness to any instance of unprovoked rage, they will, probably, lament their misfortune, in having tempers more ungovernable than the rest of mankind. But if a man, when provoked, does not speak and act with the same degree of violence, without considering whether it comes from a superior, equal, or dependent, he plainly shews he can govern his temper; and that his not doing it, on particular occasions, proceeds from the basest, and most despicable of all motives.
I remember, says
Moore,
when I was on the continent, with the English army, having seen an officer beat a soldier, very unmercifully, with his cane; I was then standing with some officers, all of whom seemed to be filled with indignation at this mean exercise of power. When the person, who had performed the intrepid exploit, came to join the circle, he plainly perceived marks of disapprobation in every countenance; for which reason he thought it necessary to apologize for what he had done, "Nothing," says he, "provokes me so much, as a fellow's looking saucily when I speak to him. I have told that man so fifty times; and yet, on my reprimanding him just now, for having one of the buttons of his waistcoat broken, he looked saucily full in my face; which put me in such a passion that I could not help striking him—However, I am sorry for it, because he has the character of being an honest man, and has always done his duty as a soldier very well." "How much," continued he, "are those people to be envied, who have full command of their temper."
"No man can command it better than yourself," said a gentleman who was there, in the foot-guards, and has since been made a General Officer.
"I often endeavour to do it," replied the choleric man, "but always find it out of my power. I have not philosophy enough to check the violence of my temper, when once I am provoked."
"You certainly do yourself injustice, Sir," said the officer, "no person seeming to have his passions under better discipline. With your brother officers, I never saw you, in a single instance, break through the rules of decorum, or allow your anger to overcome your politeness to them."
"They never provoked me," said the passionate man.
"Never provoked you," rejoined the other, "yes, Sir, frequently, and in a much greater degree, than the poor soldier has done. Do not I, at this moment, give you ten thousand times more provocations than he, or any of the unfortunate men under your command, whom you are so apt to beat and abuse, and yet you seem perfectly master of your temper?"
There was no way left by which the choleric man could prove the contrary, except by knocking the other down; but this was a method of convincing his antagonist, which he did not think proper to use. A more intrepid man, in the same predicament, would, very probably, have had recourse to that expedient; but, in general, mankind are able, even in the violence of passion, to estimate, in some measure, the risk they run; and the populace, of every country, are more readily kindled to that inferior degree of rage, which makes them lose their horror for the crime of murder; than to that higher pitch, which deprives them of all consideration for their personal safety.
In England, and Germany, a man knows, that if he commits a murder, every person around him will, from that instant, become his enemy; and use every means to lay hold of him, and bring him to justice. He knows he will be immediately carried to prison, and put to an ignominious death, amidst the execrations of his countrymen. Impressed with these sentiments, the populace of these countries hardly ever have recourse to stabbing, in their quarrels; however they may be inflamed with anger and rage. The lowest blackguard, in the streets of London, will not draw a knife against an antagonist, far superior to to himself in strength. He will fight him fairly with his fists as long as he can, and bear the severest drubbing, rather than use a means of defence held in detestation by his countrymen, and which would infallibly bring him to the gallows.
The murders committed in Germany, or England, are therefore, comparatively, few in number, and happen, generally, in consequence of a pre-concerted plan, in which the murderers have taken measures for their escape, or concealment. In Italy, remarks
Moore,
the case is different; an Italian is not under the influence of so strong an impression; he is not certain that execution must be the consequence of his committing a murder; he is therefore at less pains to restrain the wrath he feels kindling within his breast; and if hard pressed, by the superior strength of an enemy, he does not scruple to extricate himself by the thrust of a knife; he knows, if some of the sbirri are not present, no other person will seize him. The murderer therefore is pretty certain of getting to some church, or convent, where he will be protected, till he can compound the matter with the relations of the deceased; or escape to some other Italian state. Besides, when any of these assassins have not had the good fortune to get within the portico of a church, before he is seized by the sbirri, and when he is actually carried to prison, it is not a very difficult matter for his friends, or relations, to prevail, by their entreaties and tears, on some of the cardinals, or princes, to interfere in his favour, and endeavour to obtain his pardon.
Thefts, and crimes which are not capital, are punished at Rome, and some other countries in Italy, by imprisonment; or, what is called the cord. This last is performed in the street. The culprit's hands are bound behind by a cord, which runs on a pulley; he is then drawn up twenty or thirty feet from the ground; and, if lenity is intended, he is let down smoothly, in the same manner he was drawn up. In this operation the whole weight of the criminal's body is sustained by his hands; and a strong man can bear the punishment, inflicted in this manner, without future inconvenience; for the strength of the muscles of his arms enables him to keep his hands pressed on the middle of his back; and his body hangs in a kind of horizontal position. But when they intend to be severe, the criminal is allowed to fall from the greatest height to which he had been raised: and the fall is abruptly checked in the middle; by which means the hands and arms are immediately pulled above the head; both shoulders are dislocated; and the body swings, powerless, in a perpendicular line.
Breaking on the wheel is never used in Rome, for any crime; but they sometimes put in practice another mode of execution, which is much more shocking, in appearance, than cruel, in reality; and what I have slightly mentioned before. The criminal being seated on a scaffold, the executioner, who stands behind, strikes him on the head, with a hammer of a particular construction, which deprives him at once of all sensation. When it is certain that he is completely dead, the executioner, with a large knife, cuts his throat from ear to ear. This last part of the ceremony is thought to make a stronger impression on the minds of the spectators, than the bloodless blow which deprives the criminal of life.
Executions are not frequent at Rome; there has been only one, says
Moore,
during our residence in this city; and those who are of the most forgiving disposition will acknowledge, that this criminal was not put to death till the measure of his iniquity was sufficiently full; he was condemned to be hanged for his fifth murder. An account of his execution, and the ceremonies which accompanied it, may serve to throw some light on the sentiments and character of the people.
First, there was a procession of priests; one of whom carried a crucifix, on a pole hung with black; they were followed by a number of people in long gowns, which covered them from head to foot, with holes immediately before the face, through which those in disguise could see every thing perfectly, while they could not be recognized by the spectators. They are of the company
della misericordia;
which is a society of persons who, from motives of piety, think it a duty to visit criminals under sentence of death; endeavour to bring them to a proper sense of their guilt; assist them in making the best use of the short time they have to live, and who never forsake them till the moment of their execution. People of the first rank are of this society; and devoutly perform the most laborious functions of it. All of them carried lighted torches; and a few shook tin boxes, into which the multitude put money, to defray the expence of masses for the soul of the criminal. This is considered, by many, as the most meritorious kind of charity; and some, whose circumstances do not permit them to bestow much, confine all the expence they can afford in charity, to the single article of purchasing masses, to be said in behalf of those who have died without leaving a farthing to save their souls. People are reminded of this essential kind of charity, not only by the preachers, but also by inscriptions upon the walls of particular churches and convents; and sometimes the aid of the pencil is called in, to awaken the compunction of the unfeeling, and hard-hearted. On the external walls, of some convents, immediately above the box into which you are directed to put your money, views of purgatory are painted in the most flaming colours, where people are seen in all the agonies of burning, and raising their indignant eyes to those unmindful relations and acquaintances, who, rather than part with a little money, allow them to remain in those abodes of torment. As the Italians, in general, seem to have more sensibility than any other people to be met with, and as there are some, who cannot be supposed totally in want of money, pass by those pictures every day, without putting a farthing into the box, this stinginess must be imputed to a lack of faith, rather than sensibility. Such unmindful passengers are, probably, of the number of those, who begin to suspect that the money of the living can be of little use to the dead. Being absolutely certain that it gives themselves much pain to part with it in this world, and doubtful whether it will have any efficacy in abridging the pains of their friends in the other, they hesitate, for some time, between the two risks; that of losing their own money, and that of allowing their neighbour's soul to continue in torture; and it would appear that those sceptics generally decide the dispute in favour of the money.
But in such a case as that we have been describing, where a poor wretch is going to be thrust by violence out of this world, and solicits a little money to procure him a tolerable reception in the other, the passions of the spectators are too much agitated for cold reasoning; and the most niggardly sceptic throws his mite into the boxes of the
compagnia della misericordia.
Immediately after them came the malefactor himself, seated in a cart, with a capuchin friar on each side of him. The hangman, with two assistants, dressed in scarlet jackets, walked by the cart. This procession having moved slowly round the gallows, which was erected in the piazza del popolo, the culprit descended from the cart, and was led to a house in the neigbourhood, attended by the two capuchins. He remained there above half an hour; was confessed, and received absolution; after which he came out, exclaiming to the populace to join in prayer for his soul, and walked with a hurried pace to the gallows; the hangman, and his assistants, having hold of his arms, they supported him up a ladder; the unhappy man repeating prayers as fast as he could utter, till he was turned off. He was not left a moment to himself. The executioner stepped from the ladder, and stood with a foot on each of his shoulders, supporting himself in that situation, with his hands on the top of the gallows; the assistants, at the same time, pulling down the malefactor's legs, so that he must have died in an instant. The executioner, in a short time, slid to the ground, along the dead body, as a sailor slides down a rope. They then removed the cloth which covered his face, and twirled the body round with great rapidity, as if their intention had been to divert the mob; who did not, however, shew any disposition to be amused in that manner. During the time appointed, by law, for the body to hang, all the members of the procession, with the whole apparatus of torches, crucifixes, and capuchins, went into a neighbouring church, and remained there, till a mass was said for the soul of the deceased; and, when that was concluded, they returned in procession to the gallows; with a coffin covered with black cloth. On their approach, the executioner, with his assistants, hastily retired among the croud, and were no more allowed to come near the body. The condemned person having now paid the forfeit due to his crimes, was no longer considered as an object of hatred; his dead body was, therefore, rescued from the contaminating touch of those who are held by the populace in the greatest abhorrence. Two persons in masks, with long black gowns, mounted the ladder, and cut the rop; while others below, of the same fraternity, received the body, and put it carefully into the coffin. An old woman, with an exalted voice, then said, in Italian, "Now I hope that his soul is in heaven;" and the multitude around seemed all inclined to hope the same.
The serious and compassionate manner, in which the Roman populace beheld this execution, forms a presumption of the gentleness of their dispositions. The crimes, of which this man had been guilty, must naturally have raised their indignation, and his profession had a tendency to keep it up; for he was one of the sbirri, all of whom are held in the most perfect detestation, by the common people; yet the moment they saw the object of their hatred, in the character of a poor condemned man, all their animosity ceased; no rancour was displayed, nor the least insult offered, which could disturb him in his last moments. They viewed him with the eyes of pity and forgiveness, and joined with earnestness in prayers for his future welfare.
The day of execution of any criminal at Rome, many of the nobility, in the dress of a friar, and masked, stand at the corners of the streets, singly, with with a wooden plate, to receive the benevolence of passengers, to pay for masses for the soul of the person executed. The money so collected will sometimes amount to £.40. This is deposited in the hands of the city-treasurer, and is given away, by will, by the person who next forfeits his life to the state, to whom he pleases; so that the criminal, executed that day, has the disposal of the money collected on the day of execution preceding him.
CHAP. XII.
Manufactures, Revenue, Forces.
ROME has some manufactures of silk, but the raw materials are not good; and, when worked up, they neither wear, nor look well; and yet are as dear as the best silks of foreign manufacture, This exorbitant price is chiefly owing to the long credit which the Roman tradesmen are obliged to give, the
buona mancia,
and the presents required of them, by the servants of the families who trade with them.
The only articles, which Rome exports, are artificial flowers, pomatums, gloves &c. but these constitute a commerce attended with considerable profit. Holland, Ireland, and Switzerland, supply the city with linen; and England, with linen and cotton goods. There is very little cash in Rome; so that payments are mostly made in paper; and here are several considerable banking houses, which keep the course of exchange very high.
The Pope's revenue must be deemed very large; that, even of the countries of which he is sovereign, as a temporal prince, being very considerable. No person in Rome, says
Busching,
is to sell any wine, or fruit, till the Pope and his nephews, with their dependents, have disposed of what is consigned to them from their demesnes, and estates. The annual income of the Pope is computed at, nearly, one million sterling. This revenue is under the management of the apostolic chamber; where the offices are so lucrative, that some of the principal are sold for eighty, or one hundred thousand dollars.
The revenues consist in the produce of the unalienated demesnes of customs, duties and taxes, on provisions. Grain is the most considerable article, and, apparently the most beneficial to the state; but, in reality, the most hurtful. Formerly Rome supplied the city and territories of Genoa, and some parts of Tuscany, with grain; but since the apostolic chamber, by virtue of an exclusive privilege, has assumed to itself the purchase and sale of grain; the demands of the Genoese have ceased; and both cultivation, and population, have been continually decreasing.
The datary, where all collations for benefices are made out, is another great source of wealth; and, possibly, would be the most considerable, were not great part of its produce swallowed up, under the appellation of
drink-money,
by a multitude of posts and employments belonging to it.
To the revenues of the Pope must likewise be added the produce of the salt-pits at Cervia, which are very considerable; and that of the lottery, which is drawn eight times a year. This lottery is on the same plan as those of Genoa, and the military school in France; and the people of Rome give into it, with all the precipitation of hope, incited by present necessities, and the spirit of calculation. In short, the lottery is, to this people, the locust which consumes what the catterpillar has left.
By these revenues it was that
Sixtus
V. besides the ordinary expence of court and government, and even doubling those expences, by undertakings worthy of ancient Rome, found means to accumulate, during the three first years only of his pontificate, the three millions of gold, which he laid up in the castle of St.
Angelo;
which deposit is said to have remained hitherto untouched.
The military forces of the Pope make no great figure, either by land or sea. The places where any of the soldiers are to be seen are, the castle of St.
Angelo,
Civita Vecchia, Urbino, Ferrara, and some small forts on the frontiers. His Swiss guards are well cloathed and paid; yet their chief employment is to keep off the croud at public solemnities. Foreigners, on all occasions, find them very civil; especially if addressed, in German, by the title of
Landsman:
but I remember, says
Keysler,
an Austrian nobleman, of great rank, being pressed by the croud, in return for his condescending compliment of
Landsman,
received this answer,
Aye, to day, every bear-leader calls us countryman.
The Pope's gallies, which lie at Civita Vecchia, are of little consequence.
CHAP. I.
Loretto,
IS a small town, containing about six thousand inhabitants, very pleasantly situated on a hill, three miles from the sea, on the Adriatic gulph, and one hundred and forty-five east of Rome. The walls of Loretto are about half an Italian mile in circumference, and yield a delightful prospect on one side of the sea, and a beautiful vale, highly cultivated; and, on the other side of it, elegant suburbs, which extend to Monte Real, along a strait broad road. About sun-set, in clear weather, the mountains of Croatia may be discerned, though they are a hundred and fifty miles distant from Loretto.
The town is but indifferently built; the principal street consists chiefly of small shops, in which are sold little else than beads for rosaries, gold and silver ornaments for the same, worked in fillagree; small brass bells, much bought by the country people, as preservatives against thunder and lightening; brown-paper caps to cure the head-ach; and broad ribbons, with the effigies of
Nostra dama di Loretto,
painted on them, to be worn by women in child-birth.
The holy chapel of Loretto, which has rendered this town so famous through all the catholic part of Chistendom, was originally a small house in Nazareth, inhabited by the virgin
Mary,
in which she was saluted by the angel, and where she bred our Saviour. According to the history of its adventures, it was in the month of May, 1291, transported by angels, through the air, from Gallilee to Torsato, in Dalmatia; and, three years and a half after, into Italy; and on the 10th of December, in 1294, about midnight, it was set down in a wood, in the district of Recanati, about a thousand paces from the sea. If
Turselini
may be credited, on the alighting of this sacred house, from its aerial journey, all the trees, and shrubs in the wood, bowed with the greatest reverence, and continued in that respectful posture, as long as the sacred chapel remained among them. Eight months after, it was again removed one thousand paces nearer to Recanati; and at last, as it were with more mature deliberation, deposited in its present place. One cannot but be amazed at the credit given to so absurd, and ridiculous a fable; and the more so, as all catholic countries have been thereby voluntarily drawn into such onerose contributions; it being notorious that, owing to the received chronology of this miraculous transmigration, the sacred house had been placed in Italy, and its fame much celebrated; even long before some papistical writers gave out they had sought for it, and found it at Nazareth.
The sacred chapel stands due east and west, at the farther end of a large church of the most durable stone of Istria; which has been built round it. This may be considered as the external covering, or a kind of great coat, to the
casa sancta;
which has a smaller coat, of more precious materials and workmanship, nearer its body. This internal covering, or case, is of of the choicest marble, and ornamented with bas reliefs; the subjects of which are, the history of the blessed virgin, and other parts of the bible. The whole case is about fifty feet long, thirty in breadth, and the same in height; but the real house itself is no more than thirty-two feet in length, fourteen in breadth, and, at the sides, about eighteen feet in height; the centre of the roof is four or five feet higher. The walls, of this little holy chapel, are composed of pieces of a reddish substance, of an oblong square shape, laid one upon another, in the manner of brick. At first sight, on a superficial view, these red-coloured oblong substances appear to be nothing more than common Italian bricks; and, which is still more extraordinary, on a second and third view, with all possible attention, they still have the same appearance. There is not, however, it is assured, a single particle of brick in their whole composition; being entirely of a stone, which, though it cannot now be found in Palestine, was formerly very common, particularly in the neighbourhood of Nazareth. There is a small interval between the walls of the ancient house, and the marble case. The workmen, at first intended them to be in contact, from an opinion, founded either upon gross ignorance, or infidelity, that the former stood in need of support from the latter; the marble, say they, started back of itself, from such impious familiarity; or else was thrust back by the coyness of the virgin brick.
Above the door there is an inscription; by which it appears, that any person, who enters with arms, is,
ipso facto,
excommunicated. There are also the severest denunciations against those, who carry away the smallest particle of the stone and mortar belonging to this chapel. The person who attended us, says
Moore,
took us aside, and told us, in a very serious manner, that strangers were apt secretly to break little pieces of stone belonging to the
sancta casa,
in hopes that such precious relics might bring them good fortune; but he earnestly entreated us not to do any such thing: for he knew a person at Venice, who had broken off a small corner of one of the stones, and slipt it into his breeches pocket unobserved; but so far from bringing him good fortune, it had burnt its way, like aqua-fortis, before he left the chapel; and scorched his thighs in such a terrible manner, that he was not able to sit on horseback for a month. Had it not been for the impressions such stories as these make, so great was the eagerness of the multitude to be possessed of any portion of this little edifice, that the whole was in danger of being carried away; not by angels, but by piece-meal, in the pockets of the pilgrims.
The holy house is divided, within, into two equal portions, by a kind of grate-work of silver. In the larger division, which may be considered as the main body of the house, the walls are left bare, to shew the true original fabric of Nazareth stone. These stones, which bear such a strong resemblance to bricks, are loose in many places. I took notice of this, says
Moore,
to a pilgrim; he smiled, saying, "Be not afraid, my good sir, these walls are more firm than the Apennines." At the lower, or entrance wall, there is a window; the same, they say, through which the angel
Gabriel
entered, at the annunciation. The architraves of this window are covered with silver. There are a great number of gold and silver lamps in this chapel; one of them is a present from the republic of Venice; it is of gold, and weighs thirty-seven pounds: some of the silver lamps weigh, from one hundred and twenty, to one hundred and thirty pounds. At the upper end of the largest room is an altar; but so low, that from it may be seen the famous image which stands over the chimney, in the smaller of the two divisions, which is called the sanctuary. Gold and silver angels, of considerable size, kneel around her; some offering hearts of gold, enriched with diamonds; and one, an infant of pure gold. The figure, of the virgin herself, by no means corresponds with the fine furniture of her house; she is a little woman, about four feet in height, with the features and complexion of a negro. Of all the sculptors that ever exhibited, assuredly St.
Luke,
by whom the friar is said to have been made, is the least of a flatterer; and nothing can be a stronger proof of the blessed virgin's contempt for external beauty, than her being satisfied with this representation of her; especially if her face, and person, really resembled those beautiful ideas of her, conveyed by the pencils of
Raphael, Corregio,
and
Guido.
The figure of the infant
Jesus,
by St.
Luke,
is of a piece with that of the virgin; he holds a large globe in one hand, and the other is extended in the act of blessing. Both figures have crowns on their heads, enriched with diamonds; these were presents from
Anne
of Austria, Queen of France. Both arms of the virgin are enclosed within her robes, and no part but her face is to be seen; her dress is most magnificent; but in a wretched bad taste. She has particular clothes for the different festivals held in honour of her: and, what does not appear so very decent, is dressed, and undressed, by the priests.
There is a small place behind the sanctuary, into which strangers, of decent appearance, are seldom refused admittance. In this they shew the chimney, and some other furniture, which they pretend belonged to the virgin, when she lived at Nazareth; particularly a little earthen porringer, out of which the infant used to eat. The pilgrims bring rosaries, little crucifixes, and
agnus dei
's, which the obliging priest shakes for half a minute in this dish: after which, it is believed, they acquire the virtue of curing various diseases, and prove an excellent preventative against all the temptations of
Satan.
The gown, which the image had on, when the chapel arrived from Nazareth, is of red camblet, and carefully kept in a glass shrine.
Above a hundred masses are daily said in this chapel; and in the church, in which it stands. The music is remarkably fine. A certain number of the chaplains are eunuchs.
The jewels and riches to be seen, at any one time, in the holy chapel, are of small value, in comparison of those in the treasury; which is a large room adjoining the vestry of the great church. In the presses of this room are kept those presents, which royal, noble, and rich bigots, of all ranks, have, by oppressing their subjects, and injuring their families, sent to this place. To enumerate every particular would fill volumes. They consist of various utensils, and other things in silver and gold; as lamps, candlesticks, goblets, crowns, and crucifixes; lambs, eagles, saints, apostles, angels, virgins, and infants: then there are cameos, pearls, gems, and precious stones of all kinds, and in great numbers. What is valued, above all the other jewels, is the miraculous pearl; wherein they assert, that nature has given a faithful delineation of the virgin, sitting on a cloud, with the infant
Jesus
in her arms.
It is said that these pieces are occasionally melted down, by his Holiness, for the use of the state: and also that the most precious of the jewels are picked out, and sold for the same purpose; false stones being substituted in their room. This is an affair, however, entirely between the Virgin and the Pope; if she does not complain, there is no other person, who has a right to do it.
Pilgrimages to Loretto are not so frequent, with foreigners, or with persons of fortune and distinction, as formerly; nineteen, out of twenty, of those who make this journey now, are poor people, who depend for their maintenance on the charity they receive on the road. To those who are of such a rank in life, as precludes them from availing themselves of the charitable institutions for the maintenance of pilgrims, such journies are attended with expence, and inconvenience; and fathers and husbands, in moderate circumstances, are frequently brought into disagreeable dilemmas, by the rash vow of going to Loretto; which their wives and daughters are apt to make, on any supposed deliverance from danger. To refuse, is considered by the whole neighbourhood as cruel, and even impious; and to grant, is often highly distressing; and particularly to such husbands as, from affection, or any other motive, do not chuse that their wives should be long out of their fight. But to the poor, who are maintained during their whole journey, and have nothing more than a scanty subsistence to expect from their labour at home, Loretto is a party of pleasure, as well as devotion; and by much the most agreeable road they can take to heaven. It being a year of Jubilee, says
Moore,
when we visited this place, there was a far greater concourse of pilgrims, of all ranks, than is usual. We saw a few in their carriages, a greater number on horseback, or on mules; or what is still more common, on asses. Great numbers of females come in this manner, with a male friend walking by them, as their guide and protector: but the greatest number, of both sexes, are on foot. As we approached near Loretto, the road was crouded with them: they generally set out before sun rise; and having reposed themselves, during the heat of the day, continue their journey again in the evening. They sing their matins, and their evening hymns, aloud. As many have fine voices, and delicate ears, their vocal concerts have a charming effect, at a little distance. During the stillness of the morning, and the evening, we were serenaded with this solemn, religious music, for a considerable part of the road. The pilgrims on foot, as soon as they enter the suburbs, begin a hymn, in honour of the virgin; which they continue till they reach the church. The poorer sort are received into an hospital, where they have bed and board for three days.
In the great church, which contains the holy chapel, are confessionals, where the penitents, from every country of Europe, may be confessed in their own language; priests being always in waiting for that purpose; each of them has a long white rod in his hand, with which he touches those, to whom he thinks proper to give absolution. They place themselves on their knees in groupes, around the confessional chair; and when the holy father has touched their heads with the expiatory rod, they retire, freed from the burthen of their sins; and with renewed courage to begin a fresh account.
In the spacious area, before the church, there is an elegant marble fountain, supplied with water from an adjoining hill, by an aqueduct. Few, even of the most inconsiderable towns of Italy, are without the useful ornament of a public fountain. The embellishments of architecture and sculpture are employed, with great propriety, on such works as are continually in the people's view; the air is refreshed, and the eye delighted, by the streams of water they pour forth; a fight peculiarly agreeable in a warm climate. In this area there is also a statue of
Sixtus
V. in bronze. Over the portal of the church is a statue of the virgin; and above the middle gate is a Latin inscription, importing, that within is the house of the mother of God, in which the Word was made flesh. The gates of the church are likewise of bronze, embellished with bas reliefs, of admirable workmanship; the subjects taken partly from the Old, and partly from the New Testament, and divided into different compartments.
As the gates of this church are shut at noon, the pilgrims, who arrive after that hour, can get no nearer to the
sancta casa
than these gates; which are, by this means, exposed to the first violence of the holy ardour which was designed for the chapel itself. And all the sculpture on the gates, within reach of the mouths of these holy zealots, is, in some degree, effaced by their kisses. The murder of
Abel
happens to be in that part of the sculpture which is on a level with the lips of a person of ordinary size, when kneeling. Poor
Abel!
had he been placed a foot higher, or a foot lower, he might have remained in security for ages; but in the unlucky part that the sculptor has put him, his whole body has been, almost, entirely kissed away by the pilgrims; whilst his brother
Cain
stands untouched, in his original attitude, frowning, and as fierce as ever.
Of the paintings to be seen here, there are two in the treasury very highly esteemed. The subject of one of these is the Virgin's Nativity, by
Annibal Caracci;
and of the other, the Holy Family, by
Raphael.
There are likewise some others, which ornament the altars of the great church. These altars, or little chapels, of which this fabric contains a great number, are lined with marble, and embellished by sculpture; but nothing within this church is so interesting as the iron grates, before the chapels, which are made of the fetters, and chains, of the christian slaves, freed from bondage by the glorious victory of Lepanto.
The ideas that rush into one's mind, on hearing a a circumstance of this kind, are affecting beyond expression, To think of four thousand of our fellow-creatures, torn from the service of their country, and the arms of friendship, chained to oars, subjected continually to the revilings of enemies, and every kind of ignominious treatment; and when their souls were sinking under the weight of such accumulated calamity, and brought to the very verge of despair—at once, in one blessed moment, to be freed from slavery, restored to the embraces of their friends, and enjoy with them all the raptures of victory—God! what a scene! What a number of scenes! For the imagination, after glancing upon the whole, distinguishes and separates objects, and forms a thousand groupes, of the most pathetic kind; the fond recognition of old companions, brothers flying into each others arms, and the extacy of fathers, on the recovery of their lost sons.
Such are the pictures that fancy represents, when contemplating those grates, so truly ornamental of a christian church; and so perfectly congenial with a religion, requiring men to
relieve the oppressed, and set the captive free.
About ten pilgrims arrive every year, on an average, from England, at Loretto; where the people believe, those of the Roman Catholic religion keep up more strictly to the principles of their faith, than those of France, or Italy.
The people of Loretto, whatever reason they may have to depend on the invisible protection of the virgin, especially as to what concerns the treasury consecrated to her, do not think it advisable to put her to the trial; for the window of the treasury is not only strongly barred up, but the city is also fortified.
These fortifications are indeed a sufficient security against any sudden attack of pirates, but else of little importance; for, in many places, the houses supply the place of walls.
Loretto is generally without a garrison; so that it seems strange the Turks have not made greater efforts, for getting into their hands the precious booty it contains, than they have hitherto done. The Roman Catholics indeed affirm, that in all the attempts which the Turks have made against Loretto, they have either been repelled by some extraordinary miracle, or miscarried by a super-natural panic. But all these miracles have not prevented the inhabitants, upon the least appearance of danger, from sending away the treasure to Ancona, or some other place of security. Another reason why the Turks do not make any formal attempt upon this place, may, probably, be owing to the shallowness of the Adriatic, which has not a depth of water sufficient for large ships to approach the shore. Besides, Loretto being three Italian miles from the sea, and in an open country, no descent can be made with such secrecy, as not to alarm the whole neighbourhood, who are ready to sacrifice their lives in defence of the virgin, and would soon be under arms. The burghers amount to above three hundred, and the inhabitants, in the town and suburbs, are reckoned to exceed seven thousand; and besides, a Turkish squadron is no sooner known to be at sea, than a strong garrison is immediately sent here.
The only trade of Loretto consists of rosaries, crucifixes, little Madonas, and medals, which are manufactured here, and sold to pilgrims. There are great numbers of shops full of these commodities, some of them at a high price; but infinitely the greater part adapted to the purses of the buyers, and sold for a mere trifle. The evident poverty of these manufacturers, and traders, and of the inhabitants of this town in general, is a sufficient proof that the reputation of our lady of Loretto is greatly on the decline.
CHAP. II.
Ancona.
THE distance from Loretto to Ancona is fifteen Italian miles; and the road lies through a charming plain, intersected by the rivers Musone and Arpido. Here we cannot but observe that in no other chain of mountains are so many sources of brooks, and rivers, to be found, as on the east side of the Apennines.
Ancona, at a distance, is one of the most striking prospects in Italy; it stands both on the summit, and the brow of a hill. It has a mole, a fine citadel, and, in short, is a flourishing town. It is hardly to be expressed, says
Sharp,
how beautiful the environs of Ancona are; the road is hilly, but the gradual wavings of the vineyards, and arable grounds, afford the most pleasing images of peace and plenty. The Adriatic, near the road, on one hand; and the Apennines, at the distance, perhaps, of thirty miles, on the other, seem to beautify the prospect.
This town is said to have been founded by the Syracusians, who fled from the tyranny of
Dionysius.
The town originally was built on a hill; but the houses have been gradually extended, down the face of the eminence, towards the sea. The cathedral stands on the highest part; from whence there is a most advantageous view of the town, the country, and the sea. This church is supposed to be placed on the spot where a temple, dedicated to
Venus,
formerly stood; the same mentioned by
Juvenal,
when he speaks of a large turbot caught on this coast, and presented to the Emperor
Domitian.
The ascents and descents, and great inequality of ground, will prevent this from being a beautiful town; but it has much the appearance of becoming a rich one. Some of the nobility have the firmness, and good sense, to despise an ancient prejudice, and avowedly prosecute commmerce. New houses are daily building, and the streets are animated with the daily bustle of trade. I met, says
Moore,
with several English traders on the change; which seemed crouded with sea-faring men, and merchants, from Dalmatia, Greece, and many parts of Europe. There are great numbers of Jews established in this city; and it is generally remarked, that those places are in a thriving condition, to which they resort. They have a synagogue here; and, although all religions are tolerated, theirs is the only foreign worship, allowed to be publicly exercised. The commerce of Ancona has increased very rapidly of late years; and it is evident that the popes, who first thought of making it a free-port, of encouraging manufactures, and building a mole to render the harbour more safe, have injured Venice in a more sensible manner, than those who thundered bulls against that republic; but it is much to be questioned whether the former, by their encouragements to commerce, have augmented their own spiritual importance, in the same proportion they have the temporal riches of their subjects.
Men who have received a liberal education, and have adopted liberal sentiments, previous to their engaging in any particular profession, will carry those sentiments along with them through life; and perhaps there is no profession in which they can be exercised with more advantage, and utility, than in that of a merchant. In this profession, a man of the character above described, while he is augmenting his own private fortune, will enjoy the agreeable reflection that he is likewise increasing the riches, and power of his country; and giving bread to thousands of his industrious countrymen. Of all professions, his is, in its nature, the most independent: the merchant does not, like the soldier, receive wages from his sovereign; nor, like the lawyer and physician, from his fellow-subjects. His wealth often flows from foreign sources, and he is is under no obligation to those from whom it is derived. The habit which he is in, of circulating millions, makes him lay less stress on a few guineas, than the proprietors of the largest estates; and we daily see, in countries where this prosession is not considered as degrading, the commercial parts of the inhabitants giving the most exalted proofs of generosity, and public spirit.
But in countries where no one, who has the smallest claim to the title of gentleman, can engage in commerce, without being thought to have demeaned himself, fewer examples of this nature will be found: and, in every country it must be acknowledged that those who have not had the advantage of a liberal education, who have been taught to consider money as the most valuable of all things; and who are continually revolving in their minds, the various means of increasing their stock; it swells in their imagination beyond its real worth; and, at length, by an inversion of the christian precept, is considered as the one thing needful; to be sought with the most unremitting ardour, that all things may be added thereto.
In commercial towns, where all find employment, and are agitated by the bustle of business, the minds of the inhabitants are apt to be so much engrossed with the affairs of this world, as almost to forget that there is another; and neither the true religion, nor false ones, have such fast hold of their minds, as in places where there is more poverty and less worldly occupation. In the first, they consider the remonstrances of priests and confessors, as interruptions to business; and without daring to despise the ceremonies of religion, the hurried trader huddles them over as fast as possible, that he may return to occupations more congenial with the habit of his mind. The preachers may cry aloud, and proclaim the vanity of this world, and all it contains; but men, who have been trained to the pursuit of money from their childhood, who have bestowed infinite pains to acquire it, and who derive all their importance from it, must naturally have a partiality for this world, where riches procure so many flattering distinctions; and a prejudice against that, in which they procure none; but, in towns where there is little trade, and great numbers of poor people, where they have much spare time, and small comfort in this world, the clergy have an easier task, if they are tolerably assiduous, in turning the attention of the inhabitants to the other. In Roman Catholic towns, of this description, we see the people continually pacing up and down the streets, with wax tapers in their hands. They listen, with fond attention, to all the priest relates concerning that invisible country, that land of promise, where their hopes are centered; they ruminate, with complacency, on the happy period, when they also shall have their good things; they bear their present rage with patience, in expectation of the white raiment,, and crowns of gold, which they are told await them; they languish for the happiness of being promoted to that lofty situation, from whence they may look down, with scorn, on those to whom they now look up with envy; and where they shall retaliate on their wealthy neighbours, whose riches, at present, they imagine, insult their poverty.
This town being exposed, by the nature of its commerce with Turkey, to the contagious diseases which prevail in that country,
Clement
XII. as soon as he determined to make it a free-port, erected a lazaretto. It advances a little way into the sea; and is a very noble, as well as useful, edifice. He afterwards began a work as necessary, and still more expensive; and that is the mole, built in the sea, to screen the vessels in the harbour from the winds; which frequently blow, from the opposite shore of the Adriatic, with great violence. This was carried on with redoubled spirit by
Benedict
XIV. after his quarrel with Venice; has been continued by the succeeding popes, and is now almost finished. This building was founded in the ruins of the ancient mole, raised by the Emperor
Trajan.
The stone of Istria was used at first, till the exportation of it was prohibited, by the republic of Venice; who had no reason to wish well to this work. But a quarry of excellent stone was afterwards found, near Ancona, as fit for the purpose; and a kind of sand, which, when mixed with lime, forms a composition as hard as any stone, is brought from the neighbourhood of Rome; and no other is used for this building; which is above two thousand feet in length, one hundred in breadth, and about sixty in depth, from the surface of the sea. A stupendous work, more analogous to the power and revenues of ancient, than modern Rome.
Near to this stands the triumphal arch, as it is called, of
Trajan.
This is an honorary monument, erected in gratitude to the emperor, for the improvements he made in the harbour, at his own expence. Next to the
Maison quarrée,
at Nimus, it is the most beautiful, and most entire monument extant, of Roman taste and magnificence. The fluted Corinthian pillars, on the two sides, are of the finest proportions; and the Parian marble, of which they are composed, instead of having acquired a black colour, like the ducal palace of Venice, and other buildings of marble, is preserved, by the sea-vapour, as white and shining, as if it were fresh polished from the rock.
The inhabitants of Ancona, especially the female sex, so far excel those of the other parts of Italy, in shape and complexion, that they seem to be quite a different race of men. The same may be observed of the inhabitants beyond Senegallia, Fano, and Pesaro, as far as Rincini. If it be true that the resort of young gentlemen to the universities, and the numerous retinue of a court, greatly contribute to render Leipsick, Hall, and Dresden, as it were the nurseries of fine women; the superior beauty of the female sex at Fano, Ancona, &c. may likewise be attributed to the great number of strangers, and pilgrims, continually travelling through those cities.
The dress of the people of Ancona, according to
Misson,
is very singular. He observed, on their festivals, that the principal inhabitants wore black clothes, lined with green; blue stockings; shoes whitened with chalk, and tied with coloured ribbons; their waistcoats unbuttoned, and the cuffs of their sleeves embroidered; their shirts fall, and hang over their finger's ends. The wives, and daughters, of the ordinary class of citizens, wore head-dresses, with long fringes, hanging over their faces; the body of their gowns were of red and yellow silk, laced all over with broad seams of gold, or silver lace, like a livery; their petticoats very short, and of a hundred different colours. The ladies of quality were dressed after the French fashions, but looked so very aukward, that they even made a more fantastical, and ridiculous appearance, than the citizens.
About fifteen miles from Ancona lies Senegallia; another sea-port, upon this coast. There is nothing remarkable in this town, except during the time of the great fair, which is held once a year; to which a great concourse of merchants resort from Venice, and all towns, on both sides of the Adriatic; also from Sicily, and the Archipelago. England carries on a very profitable trade with this, and all the other towns of Romagnia; from which our merchants purchase great quantities of raw silk, and afterwards sell it, when manufactured, to the inhabitants. They provide them also with English cotton, and linen cloths, of every kind.
A few miles on this side Fano, in the road to Bologna, near the river Metro, is the spot where
Claudius Nero,
the Roman consul, defeated
Asdrubal,
the brother of
Hannibal.
This was, perhaps, the most important victory the Romans ever gained; for, had
Asdrubal
been victorious, or been able to effect a junction with his brother, the troops he brought from Spain would have become of triple value, as soon as they were under the direction of
Hannibal;
and it is not improbable that, with such a reinforcement, that most consummate general would have put an end to the Roman state; and the glory of Carthage would have begun, where that of Rome ended.
The distance from Senegallia to Fano is sixteen miles. This town derives its name from a temple of fortune, which stood here in the time of the Romans. All the towns of Italy, however religious they may be, are proud of their connexions with these celebrated heathens. An image of the goddess
Fortune
is erected on the fountain in the market-place; and the inhabitants shew some ruins, which they pretend belong to the ancient temple of Fortune; but what cannot be disputed are, the ruins of a triumphal arch, in white marble, erected in honour of
Augustus;
and which was greatly damaged by the artillery of Pope
Paul
the second, when he besieged this town, in the year 1463. The churches of this town are adorned with some excellent pictures; there is one, particularly, in the cathedral church, by
Guercino,
which is much admired. The subject is the marriage of
Joseph;
it consists of three principal figures; the High Priest,
Joseph,
and the Virgin.
The other towns which we shall just slightly touch upon, before we treat of Bologna and its territories, are, Pesaro, Rimini, and Ravenna; which all lie on the coast of the Adriatic. Pesaro lies about eighteen Italian miles from Fano. It is a very agreeable town; better built, and paved, than many on this coast. In the market-place there is a handsome fountain; and a statue of Pope
Urban
the eighth, in a sitting posture. In the churches of this town are some pictures by
Baroccio,
a painter, whose works some esteem very highly; and who is thought to have imitated the manner of
Raphael,
and the tints of
Corregio,
not without success. He lived about the middle of the sixteenth century; and his colours seem to have improved by time; but the operation of sun and air, on pictures, bringing all the colours to a kind of unison, occasions what is called harmony; and is thought an improvement on some pictures. This road, along the Adriatic coast, is extremely pleasant.
The Pesaro figs are accounted the best in all Italy; and even preferred to those of Sclavonia.
Rimini, the next stage on the road to Bologna, was famous in antiquity; and still contains some monuments, worthy the attention of the curious traveller. It is the ancient Ariminum; the first town of which
Coesar
took possession, after passing the Rubicon. In the market-place there is a kind of stone pedestal, with an inscription; declaring, that on it
Coesar
had stood, and harrangued his army. Rimini had formerly a good harbour; but it is now so choaked with sand, as scarce to afford depth of water for passage-boats.
Between this town and Ravenna is the river of Piscatello, the famous Rubicon, which was the ancient boundary between Italy and Cisalpine Gaul. No Roman, returning to Rome, could pass in arms beyond this; without being deemed an enemy to his country. The small town of Cesenate is situated near the brook; and the inhabitants value themselves, not a little, upon their vicinity to so celebrated a neighbour.
Ravenna, absurdly supposed by some learned men, to be founded by
Esau,
was, not only during the grandeur of ancient Rome, but a considerable time after, famous for the Exarchs; of which it was the seat. At one period it was the seat of empire; for, after
Attila
had left Italy,
Valentinian
chose Ravenna, in preference to Rome, for his residence; that he might always be ready to repel the Huns, and other barbarians, who poured from the banks of the Danube, and prevent their penetrating into Italy. The same reason afterwards induced
Theodoric,
king of the Ostrogoths, to keep his court at this city of Ravenna; after he had defeated, and killed,
Odoacer,
and assumed the title of king of Rome. The ruins of his palace, and his tomb, now form part of the antiquities of this town; which is situated three miles from the Adriatic sea; a hundred miles north-west from Ancona; and eighty south of Venice; being surrounded by two small rivers. Its ancient situation is said to have been like that of Venice, upon certain islands, when it was one of the best harbours the Romans had on that coast.
The buildings are, in general, very indifferent; the magnificent churches, and palaces, it formerly contained, are verging fast to ruin; the trade is gone, and the town very thinly inhabited,
How scarce good spring-water, fit for drinking was, anciently, at Ravenna, appears from
Martial,
who says, in his fifth book:
Sit cisterna mihi quàm vinea malo Ravennoe,
Cum possim multo vendere pluris aquam.
"Lodg'd at Ravenna, water sells so dear,
A cistern, to a vineyard, I prefer."
And again,
Callidus imposuit nuper mihi caupo Ravennoe,
Cum peterem mixtum, vendidit ille merum.
"By a Ravenna vintner once betray'd,
So much for wine and water mix'd I paid;
But when I thought the purchas'd liquor mine,
The rascal only fobb'd me off with wine."
In passing through Ravenna, says Lady
Millar,
we experienced the truth of what is said concerning the badness, as well as scarcity, of water: it is boiled, in order to be rendered wholesome; and is so thick, from the number of
animalculoe
contained in it, as to require to be strained; and, after all, it stinks abominably. The wine is excellent; richer than Cyprus. When we changed horses we observed that the post-boys had brought water with them, to exchange for an equal quantity of wine, which was done in our presence.
Ravenna is now only a vast solitude, considering its size; though the streets are large, strait, and regular, with squares and fountains: and most of its sacred edifices are stately remains of its ancient splendor. There are two hospitals in this town; the cleanliness of which would be admired, even in Holland; so that citizens, of all ranks, make them their refuge in time of sickness; as being every way better attended, and provided for, than they can expect to be at their own houses.
Amidst all these remains of its ancient splendor, Ravenna is now only
magni nominis umbra,
the shadow of a great name. It has neither commerce or manufactures; the bulk of its inhabitants are idle nobles, who make the interest of the different princes of Europe the only object of their studies. The great square, where they meet every evening, is geometrically divided between the two contending parties; one of which is careful never to set its foot on the others ground; on only crossing this square it may be seen, in time of any continental war, which side has the better; this is manifest in the exultation of the victors, and the dejection of the losing party. News is expected there, with more impatience, than in the cabinet of any one sovereign of Europe.
In a convent, belonging to the Benedictines, is a complete collection of medicaments for treating diseases of all kinds; and every imaginable expedient for the convenience of the sick. Besides a well-furnished laboratory, and an excellent physic garden; here are six large rooms on a floor. In the first is a complete set of pieces of anatomy; then all the instruments contrived for chirurgical operations; together with thread, needles, tents, bandages, suitable to every operation; lastly, a storehouse of beds, sheets, bed cloaths, couches, pillows, cut out, and prepared for the ready use of every kind of disease, with all possible convenience to those who attend the patients. These stores are distributed in large presses, which line the six rooms, and are of very neat workmanship. For those disorders, which require riding, there is a most ingenious invention. It is a large dragon, suspended in the middle of one of these rooms; which, by means of clock-work, has all the motions of a horse.
CHAP. III.
Bologna.
BOLOGNA, on account of its extent, the number of its nobility, and other inhabitants, and the importance of its trade, is, next to Rome, the finest, and most wealthy city in the ecclesiastical state. Its circuit is between five and six Italian miles; but the length of it greatly exceeds the breadth, and is supposed to resemble a ship, the tower of Asinelli being the mast. The number of inhabitants, in this city, is said to be ninety thousand; but the whole district, which includes three hundred and eight cities, towns, and villages, contains three hundred and eighty thousand inhabitants. The ancient name of this city was Falsina, from
Falsinus,
a Tuscan king, who is supposed to have built it, five and twenty years before the foundation of Rome. The name of Bononia is, by some, derived from a successor of
Falsinus,
named
Bonus;
but others derive it from the
Boji.
This city had, for a long succession of years, retained a kind of liberty, under the Emperor of Germany, till the year 1278; when it was resigned, with reserve of some privileges, to Pope
Nicholas
III. But, from intestine commotions, and wars with the neighbouring states, it continued in a fluctuating state till the pontificate of Pope
Julius
II. who, taking the advantage of the Venetian war, made himself absolute master of it; and annexed it to the papal dominions, by expelling the family of
Bentivoglio
's; however, some of that family are the leading men of the city, even at present. On account of their voluntary submission, it was, at first, stipulated, that the Bolognese should have the privilege of keeping a nuncio at the court of Rome; that no citadel should be built; and that the effects of citizens should not be liable to confiscation, on any pretence whatever. These conditions have been observed, with a degree of punctuality, and good faith, which many zealous protestants would not expect, in the church of Rome.
Bologna, says
Moore,
retains the name of a republic, sends an ambassador to the Pope's court, and the word
libertas
is inscribed on the arms, and coin of the state; with the flattering capitals S. P. Q. R. The civil government, and police of the town, is allowed to remain in the hands of the magistrates, who are chosen by the senate, which formerly consisted of forty members; but since the republic came under the protection, as it is called, of the Pope, he thought proper to add ten more; but the whole fifty still retain the name of the
Quaranta.
Mankind, in general, are more alarmed by a change of name, in things which they have long regarded with veneration, than by a real change in the nature of the things themselves. The Pope may have had some good political reason for augmenting the number of the council to fifty; but he could have none for calling them the council of fifty, if the people chose rather to call fifty men assembled together, the council of forty. One of the senators presides in the senate, and is called the Gonfalonier; from his carrying the standard
(Gonfalone)
of the republic. He is chief magistrate, is attended by guards, and is constantly at the palace, or near it, to be ready on any emergency; but he remains only two months in office, and the senators take it by turns.
In the midst of all this appearance of independence, a cardinal legate, from Rome, governs this republic; he is appointed by the Pope, with a vice-legate, and other assistants. The orders, which the legate issues, are supposed to be with the approbation of the senate. The office, which is of higher dignity than any other, in the gift of the court of Rome, continues for three years; at the expiration of that time, his Holiness either appoints a new legate, or continues the old one in office, for three years longer.
This ecclesiastical viceroy lives in great magnificence, and has a numerous suit of pages, equeries, and halberdiers, who attend him in the city. When he goes into the country, he is accompanied by guards on horseback.
The Gonfalonier and magistrates regulate all the usual matters, which regard the police; and decide in common causes, according to the laws, and ancient forms of the republic; but, in affairs of great importance, there is no doubt but the cardinal legate influences decisions. This must be mortifying to the senators, and noble families; but is less felt by the people in general, who have every appearance of living under a mild, and beneficent government.
The inhabitants of Bologna carry on a very considerable trade in silks, and velvets; which are manufactured here in great perfection. The country produces immense quantities of oil, wine, flax and hemp; and furnishes all Europe with sausages, macaroni, liqueur, and essences. The people seem to be industrious, and to be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labour; the markets are most plentifully supplied with provisions; fruit is to be had in great variety, and all excellent in its kind; the common white wine of the country is a light white wine, of an agreeable taste. Those who are not pleased with the entertainment they meet with at the inns, in this city, it will be a difficult matter to please; they must be possessed of a degree of such nicety, both in their palates and tempers, as will render them exceedingly troublesome to themselves, and others; not only in their travels through Italy, but in their journey through life.
On his arrival at this town, the first object which strikes the eye of a stranger is, a noble marble fountain, in the area before the Palazzo Publico. The principal figure is a statue of
Neptune,
eleven feet in height; one of his hands is stretched out before him, in the other he holds a trident. The body and limbs are finely proportioned, the anatomy perfect, the character of the countenance severe and majestic. This figure of
Neptune,
as well as all the others of boys, dolphins, and syrens, which surround it, are in bronze. The whole is the workmanship of
Giovanni di Bologna;
and is highly esteemed; yet there seems to be an impropriety in making water flow in streams, from the breasts of sea-nymphs, or syrens.
There are a great number of palaces in this city. What is called the public palace is by far the most spacious; but not the most elegant. In this the cardinal legate is lodged. There are also apartments for the Gonfalonier; and halls, or chambers, for some of the courts of justice. This building, though of a gloomy and irregular form without, contains some very magnificent apartments, and a few good pictures.
Over the entrance of this palace is a bronze statue of a pope. The tiara, and other parts of the papal uniform, are not so favourable to the sculptor's genius, as the naked simplicity in which
Neptune
appears. A female traveller, however, not extravagantly fond of the fine arts, would rather be observed admiring the sculptor's skill in imitating the folds of the sacerdotal robes, than the anatomical accuracy in forming the majestic proportions of the sea divinity.
Though the nobility of Bologna are not now very rich; many of their palaces are furnished in a magnificent taste, and contain pictures of great value. The palaces were built, and ornamented, when the proprietors were richer; and when the finest works of architecture, and painting, could be procured on easier terms, than at present. The galleries, and apartments, are spacious and magnificent; yet there are circumstances, in the most splendid, that must hurt the eye of those who are accustomed to that perfect exactness in finishing, which prevails in English houses. The glass of the windows, of some palaces, is divided into little square panes, which are joined together by lead; and the floors of all are very indifferently laid.
The most precious ornaments of the palaces are the paintings, and particularly those of the great masters in the art, which this city has had the honour to produce.
Raphael
is generally allowed to have excelled all painters in the sublimity of his ideas, the grouping of his figures, the beauty of his heads, the elegance of his forms, and the correctness of his outlines; yet, in the opinion of some, he has oftener imitated those noble ideas of beauty, transmitted to us by the Greek sculptors, than what he saw, or could see in nature. Those who hold this opinion assert, that the best masters of the Lombard school studied, with equal assiduity, the elegance of the antique statues, and the simplicity of nature; and, from this combined attention to both, with geniuses less sublime, and not so universal as that of the Roman painters, they have produced works equal, if not superior, in some respects, to his.
Next to Rome itself, there is, perhaps, no town in the world so rich in paintings as Bologna. The churches and palaces, besides many admired pieces by other masters, are full of the works of the great masters, who were natives of this city. The Palazzo de Monti in particular, shews the genius of the Italian nobility, for decorating their palaces with collections of painting, and other curiosities; who often abridge themselves of a great many of the conveniences of life, in order to be possessed of something which attracts the admiration of other people, and especially of foreigners. The first floor of this grand edifice, consisting of above thirty apartments, which are by far the best, is never, or at least very seldom inhabited; and then only for the reception of some person of distinction; the general use of them being to display an amazing collection of paintings and other curiosities.
The profusion of paintings in this city, says
Grosley,
made me curious to know what price the
Caracci,
and their pupils, used to put upon their works; which was nothing, when compared to what they bear at present. All these great painters, working from inclination, placed their whole ambition in the perfection of their art, and the judgment of posterity.
Guido
was the only one, whose happiness it was to enjoy the reputation on which he raised, without scarce knowing it; a fortune that he did not keep. He had made great progress in his career, by having early entered on it; he had an astonishing ease and readiness, which in his latter days he unfortunately abused; and the fortune he accumulated, he owed to the homage paid him on account of his admired talents by foreigners, and sovereigns. The vexations, enmities, and crosses, which embittered the lives of these famous men, and actually shortened the days of most of them, are facts corroborating the many instances, that eminent genius and reputation, so far from being productive of happiness, very often proves a misfortune. The
Caracci
might have lived very happy as taylors, but then their names would never have been heard of.
In the last century, there was at Bologna a man of that calling, who was very famous for his knowledge of pictures, and his skill in discerning their respective merits, and the stiles of the different schools and masters. This taylor was a very great politician, and his shop was the office of intelligence for all the news which the court of Versailles wished to have spread in Italy; as a connoisseur in pictures, and a politician.
Lewis
XIV. allowed him a pension; and such was his zeal for that monarch, that he actually died of the shock he received on the news of the battle of Ramilies.
The university of Bologna is one of the most ancient, and most celebrated seats of literature in Europe; and the academy for the arts and sciences, founded by Count
Marsigli,
at the beginning of the present century, is sufficient of itself to engage strangers to visit this city, if there were nothing more worthy of their curiosity. Here is a most valuable library, in three spacious rooms, where any person may study, and have the use of the books four hours every day; also, apartments for the students of sculpture, painting, architecture, chemistry, anatomy, astronomy, and every branch of natural philosophy. They are all ornamented with designs, models, instruments, and every kind of apparatus, requisite for illustrating those sciences. There are also professors, who regularly read lectures, and instruct the students in those various parts of knowledge. There is a hall full of models, in architecture and fortification; a valuable collection of medals, and another of natural curiosities, and a complete collection of specimens, to assist the study of
materia medica,
and every part of natural history. A gallery of statues, consisting of a few originals, and very fine casts of the best statues in Italy.
Honorary premiums are distributed every year, among the artists, for the best designs in painting, sculpture and architecture.
The anatomical theatre is adorned with statues of celebrated physicians; and, in the museum which belongs to it, are abundance of anatomical preparations; also, a complete suite of anatomical figures, in wax. There are also models in wax of particular parts, and of several of the viscera of the human body, separately; yet, those waxen models could not stand in competition with the preparations of the real parts in Dr.
Hunter
's museum. If brought to that test, the Bologna wax-works, though admirable in their kind, would appear as the best casts of the Vatican,
Apollo,
and
Laocoon
would; if placed beside the originals. Indeed, the real preparations to be seen here, are far inferior to those of that great anatomist, whose museum possesses the most complete, and most accurate collection of anatomical preparations, that ever was made by human skill and industry.
The principal church is that of St.
Petronius,
forming part of the large irregular square, in which the fountain, formerly mentioned, stands. It is the largest in Bologna. In the pavement of this church,
Cassini
drew his meridian line; and, within the walls of this same edifice, the Emperor
Charles
V. was crowned. Those circumstances may interest the astronomer and the historian; but, the statue of a soldier, which stands in one of the chapels, engages the attention of the pious Catholic. This man being at play, and in danger of losing all his money, offered up a very fervent prayer to the Virgin
Mary,
for a little better luck; to which she, who never shewed any favour to gamesters, turned a deaf ear. When he found that his bad fortune continued, this furious wretch drew his sword, and wounded both the Virgin and the infant in her arms. He instantly, as it may be supposed, fell to the ground, deprived of motion; he was carried to prison, and condemned to a painful and ignominious death. While he remained under confinement, he came to a proper sense of his wickedness; and, the blessed Virgin was so much softened by his repentance, that she restored him the use of his limbs; and, the judges taking the hint, gave him a full pardon. As a satisfactory proof of this memorable event, they shew the identical sword with which the assault was made.
In a dominican convent, situated on the top of a hill, about three miles from Bologna, is a portrait of the Virgin, by St.
Luke.
According to
Sigoni,
it was brought by a hermit from the church of
Sancta Sophia,
at Constantinople, in the year 1160; and, since that time, its power has several times been manifested, say the inhabitants, to the great benefit of the country; on which account it is every year, in the month of May, brought into the city of Bologna, in a solemn procession, and carried through the principal streets, attended by every inhabitant, who can afford to purchase a wax taper. During the procession, the bells continue ringing, the cannon are fired, and the troops under arms observe the same ceremonies, when the picture passes, as if it were the commander in chief. The common people imagine the picture is extremely fond of this annual visit to the town of Bologna; they are convinced, that, if it were not carried, it would descend from the frame, and walk the whole way on foot; but they do not desire to see the experiment made, because it might disoblige the virgin; and, should the picture once set out to walk, there is no knowing where it would stop.
For the greater convenience of the pilgrims, an arched colonade has been built from the city to the top of the mountain; which, on account of its great length, maybe accounted the most remarkable building of that kind in Italy. In the contributions of the necessary sums for this colonade, all the tradesmen seemed to vie with each other in the erection of a perpetual monument of their zeal for the blessed virgin; even the very lacqueys of the city, were at the expence of building fifteen of the arches. Every arch is about twelve feet wide, which is the breadth of the walk. The height is above sixteen feet. This arcade does not run in a strait line, but is now and then interrupted with small windings; however, in many parts of it, there are very long vistas, particularly at the grand portico near the city; from which, one has a view of ninety-three arches in a direct line. There are thirty-three flights of steps to ascend the acclivity of the mountain; three flights consist of a few steps, and the space between is level, and paved with flat stones.
The houses, in most of the principal streets, have before them a kind of portico, which supports the second story. These must be allowed to be very convenient in windy or rainy weather, and in shading the houses from the sun; but they deprive them of that ornament which they would receive from a fine front, or an elegant entrance. As the pillars of these porticos are very irregular, some being very high, others very low; some round, some square, others octangular; some of stone, and others again of wood; they are no very great ornaments to the city. These porticos, or galleries, serve only for walking; and that part of the streets where the carriages pass, is considerably lower. The roofs of the houses are of tiles, but flat, with a kind of parapet towards the streets.
The tower degli Asinelli is, by some, but erroneously, said to be the highest in all Italy; for the cupola of St.
Peter
's at Rome far exceeds it. The report of a hamper of gilt iron, hanging out of this tower,
in terrorem,
to confessors, is also without foundation. A monk, for divulging some particulars confessed to him, having, as the story goes, been put into this hamper, and left to perish. This tower is square, and the steps, by which it is ascended, are of wood. It derives its name from
Gerardo Asinelli;
who built it at his own expence, in 1109. It is a common saying here, that from the tower of
Asinelli,
one has a view of
cento e cinque Città, i. e.
a hundred and five cities. But this is no more than a pun upon the word
Cento,
the name of a small town near Bologna. A similar pun we hear in France, concerning the prospect from a mountain near the village of Trente, between Beziers and Narbonne, viz.
Jai vu d'une montagne, Trente et deux villes; i. e.
I have seen from the top of a mountain, two and thirty cities; but it means no more than that I have seen the village Trente, and two cities; Trente being the French word for thirty.
Near the
Asinelli
tower, is another, the inclination of which, on one side, is such, that a plumb line, let down from the top, falls seven feet from the wall at the bottom. This, however, is not the only leaning tower in Italy, as we have already remarked.
The Bolognese ladies dress entirely in the French fashion. The women, of the middle class, generally appear in a black gown, with a black silk veil over their heads; but the female sex here, in general, enjoy greater freedom than in most cities of Italy. We meet not a few persons walking the streets with spectacles on, who are yet so far from labouring under any weakness of sight, that they roll their eyes about, on all sides, without once looking through their glasses. This fashion is of Spanish origin, and is supposed to be a sign of greater gravity than ordinary, which has recommended it to the generality of the monks and clergy.
The Bolognese are famous for their vivacity and wit; and particularly for the satyrical poignance of their jests. However, a stranger no where meets with more civility than in this town. They are very assiduous also in their application to their several trades and manufactures. The nuns of this city are very ingenious in making most beautiful artificial flowers of silver, silk, muslin, enamel, isinglass, &c. And, though the best sort of flowers are made only for presents, yet abundance of them are to be met with in the shops, where travellers may buy them at a moderate price. Fruits, of all kinds, are also imitated in wax, so as scarcely to be discerned, at first sight, from the products of nature.
Formerly little dogs, of the Bologna breed, brought no inconsiderable sums to this city; but, at present, the ridiculous passion for those animals is so far exploded, that even in Bologna itself, by the decrease of the breed, they are become so scarce, that one of any tolerable beauty is valued at four or five guineas. It is said, the means used for checking the growth of these creatures is, to rub their legs and backs, as soon as they are brought forth, with spirits of wine, and afterwards frequently to repeat the operation. If this be true, the effect must arise from the heat of the liquor, which dries up the vital juices; and, possibly, this recipe may be better grounded than the one published at Liepsick, in 1670, among the
Miscellanea curiosa medico physica,
viz. that if you anoint the back bone of a new-born infant, with the fat of rats, moles, and bats, it will never exceed the stature of a small dwarf.
Many ingenious articles are here made of walnut-tree; for the country abounds with these trees. The quinces, which grow here, are also very large, and of an exquisite flavour. Bologna is likewise celebrated for its
Theriaca,
which is openly, and with no small solemnity, prepared in the public laboratory; and, another alexipharmic highly esteemed, which is called
Electuario di Martino.
CHAP. IV.
Republic of Lucca.
THE republic of Lucca is not above thirty Italian miles in circumference; but the fertility of the soil, and the mildness of the government, have been such attractive inducements, for settling here; that the inhabitants of the city, and the hundred and fifty villages belonging to it, are computed to be, in number, one hundred and twenty thousand; of which thirty thousand are able to carry arms. Nothing, however, but foreign support can prevent Lucca from coming under the subjection of the great Duke of Tuscany; who has already found means to surround it, on all sides, with his territories. Plausible pretences for a quarrel will frequently arise, not only from disputes about limits, but from the obstinate refusal of the Lucquese to acknowledge the family of the
Medicis,
great Dukes of Tuscany; allowing them only the title of Dukes of Tuscany. In such a situation, a universal concord and harmony is necessary, for transmitting to posterity the blessings of their darling goddess
Liberty;
whose name they bear on their arms, and whose image is not only impressed on their coins, but also on the city gates; and on all the public buildings.
The city is three Italian miles in circumference, and is fortified with eleven bastions; which, with the other works, are planted with two hundred and eighty pieces of cannon. The ramparts are very pleasant; being planted all round with four rows of trees, and in some parts with more. The country, in which this city stands, is a delicious plain; terminated, on all sides, by a chain of mountains. The skill, and indus-of the inhabitants, in their silk, and other manufactures, have gained this city the honourable epithet of
indusdustriosa,
or, the industrious. The small kind of olives, which grow here, are excellent; and the oil, they produce, accounted the best in all Italy. The city, according to
Keysler,
contains about forty-four thousand inhabitants; others, however, reckon not not more than half that number. They are much to be commended for their candour, politeness, and chearfulness. Here are seen more young women in the streets, shops, churches, and schools, than in any other part of Italy. Their police is very commendable, and great attention is shewn to suppress luxury, superfluous magnificence, and such dissipations as often prove so destructive to families, where no such restraint takes place. On entering the city, travellers must deliver up their fire-arms; but it is only informing the guard, at what gate they intend to go out, when they leave the city, and they are sure to find them there; they are likewise allowed to wear their swords, for three days; but, afterwards, must have a particular licence, which generally is granted only to persons of high rank. No commoner, though he be one of the council, must appear with a sword; and no soldier.
Strangers never fail to be welcomed here with an evening serenade; which is accompanied with an humble intimation, that they would be pleased to make some returns for such an honour. The houses are, generally, well built, and the streets well paved, and broad; but most of them irregular.
The palace of the republic is large, and spacious; without any thing curious, unless it be an arsenal, which makes a part of it; and has always arms in readiness for twenty thousand men.
On a monument in one of the churches is the following inscription.
Hic jacet corpus S. Ricardi, regis Anglioe.
"Here lies the body of S. Richard, king of England.
But how the body, of any of the kings of England, came here, is what the history of the country does not mention.
Their council of state is composed of a Doge, and nine senators: who are all members of the great council, and are changed every two months, These counsellors, who are called Elders, bear the title of Most Excellent; and, whilst in office, live in the republic palace, and their expences are defrayed at the charge of the state; but when they go abroad, on their own private concerns, it must be
incognito,
and in a close sedan, with the curtains drawn. A Doge is not capable of being re-elected, till the expiration of seven years. The great council, above-mentioned, consists of one hundred and thirty of the nobility, and one hundred and ten commoners, who are changed every two years. The palace-guard is a corps of seventy-five Swiss; and the rest of the republic's forces may consist of about five hundred men. Its ordinary revenue is computed at about eighty thousand pounds sterling.
CHAP. V.
Grand Duchy of Tuscany.
THIS duchy borders on the Mediterranean; which, in these parts, receives its name from this duchy; also on the ecclesiastical state, the duchy of Modena, and the republic of Lucca. Some small detached parts, belonging to it, lie among the territories of Modena, Lucca, and Genoa. These parcels excepted, its extent, from North to South, is one hundred and sixteen English miles; and, from East to West, about eighty miles. The population is estimated at a million of inhabitants.
Map
of the GRAND DUTCHY of TUSCANY.
The vines, in this country, says
Smollet,
are not planted in rows, and proped with sticks, as in France; but twine around the hedge-row trees, nearly covering them with their foliage and fruit. The branches of the vine are extended from tree to tree; exhibiting beautiful festoons of real leaves, tendrils, and swelling clusters, a foot long. By this economy, the ground of the enclosure is spared for corn, grass, or any other production. Might not the same method be adapted in this country, with equal success, in regard to hops? The trees, commonly planted for the purpose of sustaining the vines, are, maple, elm, and elder; with which last, the banks of the Arno abound. This river, which is very considerable, with respect to the quantity of water, would be a charming pastoral stream, if it was transparent; but it is always muddy, and discoloured.
This duchy abounds in minerals; but the mines are not much worked, except in the island of Elba, remarkable for its fine iron ore. The air of several places, as of Pisa, Volterra, Chiusa, and Massa, is unhealthy, on account of the many fens, and wild desart places. In some parts manna is gathered from the ash and elm. It oozes out on taking off the rind, and and consequently is not a production of the air, but of the tree. The bees carry off a great deal of it; the remainder is applied, in Tuscany, to medicinal uses; and, in France, for giving a gloss to cloth.
On the borders of the territory of Lucca, near Pisa, are some hot springs, which are in great vogue. There are others, in different parts of this duchy, the heat of which much exceeds that of boiling water. The famous Tetruchio water is, properly a brine, and celebrated for its virtues in a diarrhaea.
The principal river in this country is the Arno, which rises in the Apennine mountains, in the territory of Florence, and falls into the sea below Pisa.
The whole face of Tuscany, says
Sharpe,
is covered with farm-houses, and cottages; an object very rare in the dominions of the Pope, and the king of Naples; but the cottages here, and indeed through all Italy, are not, as in France and England, thatched huts, with walls of mud; they are built of stone, or brick; and, to outward appearance, should contain richer inhabitants than, in fact, they do.
A striking circumstance, though a trivial one, offers itself, on first entering the Grand Duke's territories; and this is the ingenious method of figuring their milestones; which might be imitated to good effect in England, as time and weather have a tendency to obliterate the figures cut in coarse stone; and, what is worse, as idle boys, in all parts of the world, are apt to make it an amusement to deface the figures of milestones, and destroy, by that very practice, the use of them; the Florentines let into the figures a small slip, or bar, of iron, which is fastened with solder, in the usual manner plumbers fix iron in stone; by this means the figures on the stones remain legible, almost for ever; (or, at least, would do so, if the iron were painted black, once in two or three years) and the difficulty of breaking them to pieces discourages the attempt.
The principal cities in this duchy are, Florence, Leghorn, Sienna, and Pisa.
CHAP. VI.
Of the City of Florence.
THE city of Florence lies in a fruitful valley, on the river Arno, one hundred and twenty miles north of Rome, in a most delightful situation, encompassed with beautifull hills on three sides; full of villages, country-seats, gardens, groves, and woods of olives, rising gradually, till they join the highest mountains of the Apennines; and towards the west is that rich valley, watered by the river Arno, which extends as far as Pisa; abounding in corn, wine, oil, and all manner of delicious fruits.
The Florentines pride themselves so much on the beauty of their city, that they imagine nothing can equal it; and, says
Moore,
it unquestionably is a very beautiful city. Independent of the churches and palaces, some of which are very magnificent, the architecture of the houses, in general, is in a good taste; the streets are remarkably clean, and paved with large broad stones, chisselled so as to prevent the horses from sliding. This city is divided into two unequal parts, by the river Arno; over which there are no less than four bridges, in sight of each other. That called the
ponte della Trinita
is uncommonly elegant. It is built entirely of white marble, and ornamented with four beautiful statues, representing the four seasons. The quays, and buildings on each side, and the bridges, render that part of Florence, through which the river passes, by far the finest. The same is the case at Paris; and it happens, fortunately for these two cities, that these parts are, almost, constantly before the eye, on account of the necessity people are under of passing, and re-passing those bridges; whereas in London, whose river, and bridges, are far superior to any in France, or Italy, people may live whole seasons, attend all the public amusements, and drive every day, from one end of the town to the other, without ever seeing the Thames, or the bridges, unless they go on purpose. For this reason, when a foreigner is asked which he thinks the finest city, Paris or London? The moment Paris is mentioned, the Louvre, and that striking part, which is situated between Pont-royal and Pont-neuf, presents itself to his imagination. He can recollect no part of London equal, in magnificence, to this; and ten to one, if he decides directly, it will be in favour of Paris; but, if he takes a little more time, and compares the two capitals, street by street, square by square, and bridge by bridge, he will probably be of a different opinion. The number of inhabitants, in Florence, is calculated at eighty thousand. The streets, squares, and fronts of the palaces, are adorned with a great number of statues; some of them by the best masters. A taste for the arts must be kept alive, independent, almost, of any other encouragement, in a city where so many specimens are continually before the the eyes of the inhabitants. There are towns in Europe where statues, exposed night and day, within the reach of the common people, would run a greater risk of being disfigured, and mutilated; here they are as safe as if they were shut up in the Great Duke's gallery.
The number of statues, which ornament the streets and squares of Florence, amount, in all, to above one hundred and fifty; many of them of exquisite workmanship, and admired by those of the best taste. Such a number of statues, without any drapery, continually exposed to the public eye, with the far greater number of pictures, as well as statues, in the same taste, to be seen in the palaces, have produced, in both sexes, the most perfect insensibility to nudities.
Ladies, who have remained some time at Rome, or Florence, particularly those who affect a taste for
virtù,
acquire an intrepidity, and a cool minuteness, in examining and criticising naked figures, which is unknown to those who have never passed the Alps. There is something in the figure of the god of gardens, which is apt to alarm the modesty of a novice; but there are female
dilettantí,
who think little of it.
Florence has been equally distinguished, by a spirit for commerce, and the fine arts; two things which are not always united. Some of the Florentine merchants, formerly, were men of vast wealth, and lived in a most magnificent manner. One of them, about the middle of the fifteenth century, built that noble fabric, which, from the name of its founder, is called the
Palazzo Pitti.
The man was ruined by the prodigious expence of the building; which was immediately purchased by the
Medici
family; and has continued ever since to be the residence of the sovereigns. The gardens, belonging to this palace, are on the declivity of an eminence. On the summit there is a kind of fort, called Belvidere. From this, and from some of the higher walks, is seen a complete view of the city of Florence, and the beauteous vale of Arno, in the middle of which it stands. The prospect is bounded, on every side, by an amphitheatre of fertile hills, adorned with country houses, and gardens.
The furniture of this palace is rich and curious; particularly some tables of Florentine work, which are much admired. The most precious ornaments, however, are the paintings. The walls of, what is called, the imperial chamber, are painted in fresco, by various painters; the subjects are allegorical, and in honour of
Lorenzo de Medicis;
distinguished by the name of the Magnificent. There is more fancy than taste displayed in the paintings. The other principal rooms are distinguished by the names of Heathen Deities; as Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, Venus; and by paintings in fresco, mostly by
Pietro di Cortona.
In the last mentioned, the subjects are different from what is naturally expected from the name of the room; being representations of the triumphs of Virtue over Love, or some memorable instance of continence. As the
Medicis
family have been more distinguished for the protection they afforded the arts, than for the virtues of continence, and self-denial, it is probable the subject, as well as the execution, of these pieces, was left entirely to the painter.
In no part of Italy are there so many villas, belonging to private persons, as in the neighbourhood of this city. The country, all around, is divided into small farms, with a neat farm, house on each.
In respect to curiosities, worthy the attention of a traveller, Florence, says
Keysler,
exceeds every city in Italy; Rome, alone, excepted. It is generally stiled, by the Italians,
la bella,
or, the beautiful; an epithet it probably owes to the cleanliness of the streets, and goodness of the pavement; the palaces here being neither so many, nor so stately, as to put it on a level with Rome, Turin, or even Genoa. The streets are for the most part narrow and winding; and the former is too much the fault in the Corso, which is said to be two Italian miles in length; so that, in several of the streets, which are included in that quarter, there is not breadth enough for a carriage to pass.
There are, however, some beautiful palaces in Florence; and, as
Tuscan
pillars, and
rustic
work, owe their origin to this country, the architects always take care to give them a place in the great edifices, that are raised in Tuscany. The
Palazzo Pitti,
and that we have just noticed, is built after this manner; which makes it look extremely solid, and majestic. It is not unlike the Luxemburg, at Paris, built by
Mary
of
Medici;
and for that reason, perhaps, the workmen fell into the Tuscan humour. I found, says
Addison,
in the court of this palace, what I could not meet with any where in Rome. I mean an antique statue of
Hercules,
lifting up
Antaeus
from the earth. It was found in Rome, and brought here under the reign of
Leo
X. There are abundance of pictures in this palace, by the hands of the greatest masters.
But it is in the famous gallery of the old palace that, perhaps, the noblest collections are to be met with, in any part of the world. The gallery itself is made in the shape of an L, according to
Lassel;
but, if it must needs be like a letter, remarks
Addison,
it resembles the Greek 11 most. It is adorned with admirable pieces of sculpture; as well modern as ancient. One of the most instructing parts of it, in the eyes of many, is the series of Roman emperors from
Julius Coesar
to
Gallienus;
with a considerable number of their empresses ranged opposite to them. This series is almost complete; but, wherever the bust of an emperor is wanting, the place is filled up, by that of some other distinguished Roman. Such an honour is bestowed, with great propriety, on
Seneca, Cicero,
or
Agrippa,
the son-in-law of
Augustus.
But, on perceiving a head of
Antinous,
the favourite of
Adrian,
it was remarked, says
Moore,
that this bust would not have been admitted, into such company, any where but in Florence. It ought, however, to be remembered, that the gallery is not an Egyptian court of judicature; where princes are tried after death, for crimes committed during their life. If the vices of originals had excluded their portraits, what would have become of the series of Roman emperors; and, particularly, of the great
Julius Coesar
himself; of whose intrigues, and debaucheries, history has given us so flagrant a description.
Amidst these noble specimens of ancient art, some of the works of
Michael Angelo
are not thought undeserving a place. His
Bacchus
and
Faunus,
of which the well-known story is told, have been, by some, preferred to the two antique figures representing the same.
This story, to such of our readers as are unacquainted with it, may, perhaps, not be unacceptable: it is related as follows. When
Michael Angelo
's reputation had risen to a great height, his adversaries, envious of his fame, had no other way to lessen it, than by comparing his works to the antique; and endeavouring to shew how far he fell short of the ancients. He took the resolution of putting the skill of his judges to the test, and made this
Bacchus.
When the work was perfected, he broke off the right hand, which holds a cup, and laid it by in his closet; the rest of the figure he buried, and let it lie some time in the ground. At a proper opportunity the workmen were ordered to dig, as for other purposes, in another part of the ground; and to carry on their work so, that they must, of course, come to the place where the statue was hid. They did so, and found it; and, by direction, mentioned it in such a manner, that it might come to the ears of his adversaries, who were not long in going to view the new discovery; and, when they had cleansed the earth from it, found a fine group of a
Bacchus
and
Faunus,
all entire, except one hand, which was wanting to the
Bacchus.
They instantly judged it to be a fine antique; the discovery was soon noised about, and, among the rest who flocked to see it, came
Michael Angelo
himself. He was not so loud in its praises as the rest were. "Well," says one of them, "you can make as good a one, no doubt." He laughed with them a little time; and at last asked them, "What will you say if I made this?" It may easily be imagined how the question was received. He then only desired their patience whilst he stepped home, which he did, and brought back with him the hand he had broken off; which, upon application, was found to tally
exactly
with the arm.
The beautiful head of
Alexander
is also universally admired, by all the
virtuosi;
though they differ in opinion, in regard to the circumstances, in which the sculptor has intended to represent that hero. Some imagine he is dying; Mr.
Addison
thinks he sighs for new worlds to conquer; others, that he faints with pain and loss of blood, from the wounds he received at Oxydrace. Some think the features express, not bodily pain, or languor; but sorrow, and remorse, for having murdered his faithful friend
Clitus.
The famous bust of
Alexander
appeared to me, says Lady
Millar,
to express more of the sentiment of indignation, and reproach, in the countenance, than of a sensation proceeding from bodily pain, though it is here styled
Alexander dying;
the features are extremely handsome, and wonderfully interesting; and the whole character noble.
The unfinished bust of
Marcus Brutus,
by
Michael Angelo,
admirably expresses the determined firmness of character which belonged, says
Moore,
to that virtuous Roman.
Among the busts of the emperors and empresses, there are some which are very scarce, and almost singular, in their kind; and I have generally observed, at Rome, remarks
Addison,
which is a great magazine of these antiquities; that the same heads, which are rare in medals, are also rare in marble; and, indeed, we may commonly assign the same reason for both; which was, the shortness of the emperors' reigns, that did not give the workmen time to make many of their figures; and, as the shortness of their reigns was generally occasioned by the advancement of a rival, it is no wonder that no one worked on the figure of a deceased emperor, when his rival was on the throne. Among other antique figures, there is a fine one of
Morpheus,
in touchstone. This god is represented, by the ancient statuaries, under the figure of a boy asleep, with a bundle of poppy in his hand. Tis probable, they chose to represent the god of sleep, under the figure of a boy, contrary to all modern designers; because, it is that age which has its repose the least broken by cares and anxieties.
Statius,
in his celebrated invocation to sleep, addressed himself to him under the same figure.
Crimine quo merui, juvenis placidissime Divûm.
SIL. l. 5.
I would most willingly pay the tribute of my praise, says
Moore,
to that charming figure, known by the name of the
Venus de Medicis.
Yet, in the midst of all my admiration, I confess I do not think her equal to her brother
Apollo
in the Vatican. In that sublime figure, to the most perfect features and proportion, is joined an air, which seems more than human. The
Medicean Venus
is, unquestionably, a perfect model of female beauty; but, while
Apollo
appears more than a man, the
Venus
seems precisely a beautiful woman.
This statue, says
Addison,
seems much less than the life, as being perfectly naked, and in company with others of a larger make; Lady
Millar
measured it, and found it not more than four feet ten inches in height. The softness of the flesh, the delicacy of the shape, air, and posture, and the correctness of design, in this statue, are inexpressible.
This
chef d'oeuvre,
or standard for female beauty, was found in the villa Adriana, amongst more than thirty-eight Greek statues of admirable workmanship: the inscription on the pedestal, importing her to have been formed by
Cleomenes,
an Athenian, son of
Apollodorus,
has been evidently inserted at the time her arms were supplied. Whether she was that
Venus,
sculptured by
Praxiteles,
and which the inhabitants of Gnidos refused to
Nicodemes,
king of Bithynia, although he offered to pay all their debts in exchange for this marble lady; or, whether she was the workmanship of
Phidias;
and the same, that in the time of
Pliny,
was placed at Rome under the portico of
Octavia;
or, whether she was the
Venus
of
Alcamenes,
and placed near Athens, still remains matter for controversy to anxious antiquarians, who have never yet been able to agree on the subject.
In the same room, says
Moore,
are many other excellent statues, besides a collection of admirable pictures, by the best masters.
Besides the gallery and tribuna, the hundredth part of whose treasures it is impossible to particularife; there are other rooms, whose contents are indicated by the name they bear; as the cabinet of arts, of astronomy, of natural history, of medals, of porcelain, of antiquities, and the saloon of the hermaphrodite, so called from a statue, which divides the admiration of the amateurs with that in the Borghese villa at Rome. The excellence of the execution, is disgraced by the vileness of the subject. We are surprized how the Greeks and Romans could take pleasure in such unnatural figures; in this particular, their taste seems to have been as depraved, as, in general, it was elegant and refined.
The large room, called the gallery of portraits, is not the least curious in this vast museum. It contains the portraits, all executed by themselves, of the most eminent painters who have flourished in Europe, during the three last centuries. They amount to above two hundred; those of
Rubens, Vandyke, Rembrandt,
and
Guido,
were formerly the most esteemed; two have been since added, which vie with the finest in this collection—those of
Mengs
and Sir
Joshua Reynolds.
The portrait of
Raphael
seems to have been done when he was young; it is not equal to any of the above.
Lady
Millar
mentions having seen in one of the rooms, a variety of summer and winter rings, worn by the ancient Romans, some of which were entire with the stones still in their setting. The greater part were
intaglios;
but among them were some
cameos.
There were several which opened, and the cavity under the gem was sufficiently large to receive as much matter as might be contained in the bowl of a tea-spoon; probably, these cavities were designed to hold poison. Some of the hoops of these rings were so large, adds Lady
Millar,
to admit with ease four of my fingers.
The abbé, who was the late guardian of these precious depots, and of the gallery, stole and disposed of antique idols, gems, &c. and twenty-four pounds weight of pure gold, the ornaments of columns, &c. of near the value of five thousand pounds, to Jew brokers. He was taken, tried, and condemned to be hanged and embowelled; yet, after eight months imprisonment, humanely pardoned, but banished the Grand Duke's territories; and is, at this time, said to serve as a private soldier in the Neapolitan troops.
The remarkable diamond, that used to be shewn here, has been removed from the Tribuna, to the Duke's private cabinet; but an exact model, made of yellowish glass, now supplies the place of it. The original, according to
Tavernier,
weighs one hundred and forty carrats, and was the largest diamond in Europe, till Mr.
Pitt
brought from the East-Indies, a diamond which exceeded it, which was sold to the regent of France, and was the most costly and superb jewel belonging to that crown. The sparks, which fell from it in cutting, produced him six thousand pounds; and, when cut, besides its extraordinary weight of one hundred and forty-four carrats, was of a finer water than any diamond that could be produced; whereas, the Florentine diamond is of a yellowish water. The Great Duke, is said to have bought his of a Jesuit for 75,000 crowns; but, the father had an exorbitant profit, having given only a single sixpence for it, on the
Piazza di Navona,
when it was offered to sale as a bit of crystal. Mr.
Pitt
might have disposed of his diamond to much greater advantage, had he not outstood his market with the King of Poland, who offered him 800,000 dollars; and the states of Saxony were to give security for the payment of that sum, by several payments, within a few years. Mr.
Pitt
insisted upon a million, or 225,000l. sterling; and the treaty broke off to his great mortification; for, when the King of Poland heard that the King of France had purchased the diamond, he is said to have been dissatisfied with himself, that he had not come into Mr.
Pitt
's terms. Whilst Mr.
Pitt
had this diamond about him, he could hardly be said to be in safety; and, not being able to find a proper purchaser, he, at length, sold it to the Regent of France, who was desirous of procuring it for the King; and, this famous diamond, to this day, goes by the appellation of
le Regent.
Mr.
Pitt,
however, was obliged to take, by way of exchange, several other jewels, at the Paris valuation; and, the bills which he received as ready money, being immediately after involved in the fate of the Mississippi bonds; it is supposed that, instead of the many millions of French livres, which he thought himself sure of, the most he got for his famous diamond, was about 300,000 dollars, or about sixty-seven thousand pounds sterling.
In a particular closet in the Tribuna, is seen a most rich and admirable
studiolo,
or cabinet, with fourteen beautiful pillars; the shafts of which are of
lapis lazuli;
but, the pedestals and capital, of solid gold, enriched with pearl and
turquoise.
This magnificent cabinet, serves for keeping gems and intaglios; the whole number of which, in their several assortments, amount to three thousand. The cabinet and its contents, are valued at sixty thousand crowns; or about one hundred and twenty-seven thousand pounds sterling.
The assortment of gold coins consists of sixteen hundred medals, and sixteen
medaillons.
The largest of the latter weighs a hundred and sixteen louis-d'ors, and represents the emperor
John Paloeologus
VII. who assisted at the council of Florence. The whole collection is composed of fourteen thousand antique medals, and eight thousand modern.
The churches in Florence amount to above one hundred and fifty; and the convents to eighty-seven; besides twenty-two hospitals. Among such a multitude of religious edifices, and in a country like this, many of them must necessarily contain things worth notice.
The cathedral of Florence is a great Gothic building, incrusted on the outside with marble; remarkable for nothing but its cupola, which is said to have been copied by the architect of St.
Peter
's at Rome; and for its size, which is much greater than that of any other church in Christendom. The baptistery, which stands by it, was an ancient temple, said to be dedicated to
Mars.
There are some good statues of white marble, within; and one or two of bronze, on the outside of the doors; but, it is chiefly celebrated for the embossed work of its brass gates, which
M. Angelo
used to say, deserved to be made the gates of Paradise. It is in this place, that all the children born in the city are baptised.
Near the cathedral, is one of the most beautiful towers, or steeples, in the world. It is square, and the outside is incrusted with black, red, and white marble. This structure is much admired for its symmetry and strength; the ornaments are well imagined, and the parts well disposed. Its height is two hundred and seventy-six English feet. There are four hundred and eight steps in the ascent, and a noble view of the city from the top of the edifice.
The chapel of St.
Lorenzo,
says
Moore,
is, perhaps, the finest, and most expensive habitation, that ever was raised for the dead; it is encrusted with precious stones, and adorned by the workmanship of the best modern sculptors. Some complain, that, after all, it has a gloomy appearance. There seems to be no impropriety in that, considering what the building was intended for.
Addison
has remarked, that this chapel advanced so very slowly, that it was not impossible but all the family of the
Medicis
might be extinct, before their burial-place was finished. This has actually happened; the
Medicis
family is extinct, and the chapel remains unfinished.
The
Mercato nuovo,
is properly the exchange of Florence; where, about noon, the principal merchants meet to do business, many of whom are of great families; for here, as in Genoa, commerce is not held to be in the least derogatory to nobility. It is, indeed, the means of keeping up affluence and credit in families; whereas, in other parts, and especially in Germany, many families are ruined, or, for a whole century or more, remain in obscurity. It is by commerce, that even the Ducal family has risen to that greatness, in which they have maintained themselves above two hundred years.
Cosmo de Medicis,
who died in the year 1465, had warehouses in the principal trading cities throughout the world; and met with such peculiar good fortune, that, in the course of fifty-four years, he experienced no considerable losses, by the failure of other merchants.
The city is not fortified; but, on one side of the river Arno, there is a good citadel, with five bastions and two forts; but both in a very ruinous condition. It is said to be six miles in circumference. The city appears in its greatest brilliancy at the horse-races, which are at the end of June.
A particular part of the city, noted for houses of ill fame, was assigned by
Cosmo
I. to the Jews for their particular quarter; and, an inscription at the entrance of the street, observes, that it was thought more adviseable to permit the Jews to remain in the neighbourhood of Christians; that, by their good example, they might be brought to the easy yoke of
Christ,
than totally to expel them. The reason here assigned is so just and commendable, that it deserves to be adopted in other parts, with regard to all sectaries.
The environs of Florence are delightful; the plain, in which the city stands, being surrounded by charming hills, well cultivated and adorned. But, though Florence be thus in a kind of basin, the warmth of the south, and south-east winds is so well tempered, by cooler ones, that people may sleep abroad without danger. The autumn here is generally wet; and this city is a bad residence, in winter, on account of the south-east, or sirocco, and north winds, which blow often on the same day; and subject the inhabitants to inflammations in the breast and lungs. Florence therefore is best in summer, when the atmosphere about it is esteemed very salubrious.
It is said, remarks
Keysler,
that few persons in Florence are known to have the sense of seeing, in perfection. This some naturalists impute to the foggy moist air of the city; but, at this rate, most of the inhabitants of Mantua, Venice, Leyden, Amsterdam, &c. would have but little use of their eyes. It is observable that places, near the sea-coast only, are subject to such damp exhalations; whereas Florence stands high, and on a dry soil; and it is to the purity and salubrity of the air, that the Florentines themselves attribute the vivacity, and penetration by which they boast that their countrymen have made such improvements, in all the polite arts and sciences.
Without the city are two very fine palaces, called
Poggio,
or
Villa Imperiale;
and
Pratolino;
the former is but an Italian mile from the city, in a direct line from the
Porta Romana,
with a stately avenue, consisting of a double row of cypress and larch trees, leading to it; with beautiful vineyards, convents, and villas, on each side.
Pratolino, the other ducal palace, is six Italian miles distant from Florence. The gardens are beautifully fine, with a variety of grand water-works; but the greatest curiosity is a colossal statue, fronting the palace, which is intended to signify the Appennine mountain, and is the work of
John de Bologna,
who has made the statue appear like a mountain itself. The figure sits in an inclining posture, as looking into a bason or pond, just below it; and, from its prodigious long beard, arms, and other parts, hang, what look like, icicles; the only representation that stone could give of water falling from it. The statue is composed of several great stones, which look very coarse, near the eye, but have a noble effect at a distance. The iris of each eye looks like a large glass bottle, and one of the feet is nine English feet long; to which all the other parts of the figure are equally proportionable.
To conclude, the city of Florence is so beautiful, that the Emperor
Charles
V. said, it was fit to be seen and shewn only on holidays.
VIEW of the LAKE of NERNE
CHAP. VII.
Of the Cities of Leghorn, Pisa, and Sienna.
LEGHORN is a neat, well-built city, situated on a plain, almost level with the sea; forty miles West of Florence; and one hundred and fifty North-west of Rome.
The great wealth of Tuscany, and the true source of her power, has been this famous port of Leghorn; or
Livorn,
as the Italians call it; which was obtained from the Genoese, in exchange for Sarizana, an episcopal city, near Lerici, by
Cosmo
I. Duke of Tuscany.
The country about it was formerly a morass, or bog, whose noxious streams infected the air; but by the skill of Sir
Robert Dudley,
afterwards created Duke of Northumberland, the soil was rendered habitable; the air more healthy, and the port improved, so as to become the best in Italy. By his advice, also, it was made a free-port; that is, the duties inward are very easy, and there are no duties on exportation; which have rendered it, for more than a century, the greatest magazine of the Levant trade; and has drawn thither merchants from all parts, particularly Jews and Armenians; of whom many reside there, and have great privileges allowed them.
The number of Jews, at Leghorn, is computed at eighteen thousand, and this city is called their paradise; for, except living by themselves, in one particular part of it, be reckoned a hardship, they enjoy all manner of freedom, without any ignominious mark of distinction. Their trade, which is already very great, is continually increasing; to the no small detriment of the christian merchants. There is, indeed, an inquisition at Leghorn, but without exercising any power over the Jews; for it is limitted to the spiritual conconcerns of those of its own communion. The synagogue is large, and well contrived; with abundance of brass chandeliers in it. For the work which must necessarily be done, in their houses, on the sabbath days, the Jews buy young Moorish girls; one of which, according to her age, and other circumstances, may cost forty, or fifty crowns.
Leghorn is said to contain forty thousand inhabitants, including the Jews; but this calculation seems exaggerated, for so small a city. Most of the streets are broad and strait. The grand place larger, says Mrs.
Piozzi,
than Lincoln's-inn Fields, makes a fine appearance; from which two vistas extend through both the city gates. The north part of this city is extremely well-built; and one quarter of it, on account of its many canals, for cleanliness and convenience of trade, is called Venice.
Pollnitz
observes, that this city is well-built; the streets broad, strait, and lightsome, and that several have canals in them, after the manner of Dutch cities; and that the ports are magnificent. They have good hospitals for the poor and sick, but none for those who are lame, or past labour; so that they have a multitude of beggars. The public prostitutes have particular quarters assigned them, and are under very strict regulations. It is said they even maintain one of the gallies, out of the taxes imposed on their profession. The British factors, who consist of about forty families, constantly maintain a chaplain at Leghorn; and as the harbour is never without English, Dutch, or Danish vessels, the Protestants have always an opportunity of baptizing their children, receiving the sacrament, and performing the other rites of their church.
On the quay, near the gallies, is a famous marble of the Grand Duke
Ferdinand
I. with four Turkish slaves, in bronze, chained to the pedestal. It is said these slaves were a father and his three sons; who attempted to run away with one of the Duke's gallies, but were overtaken and put to death.
The ramparts afford a very agreeable prospect of the sea, and of many country seats on the land-side. The city is also well fortified, having two forts towards the sea, besides a citadel. The number of guns, in its several fortifications, are, at present, about three hundred, most of them brass; and the garrison consists of six hundred men.
ENTRANCE to the PORT of LEGHORN.
Leghorn has, accidentally, done, what the greatest reach of politics would have found difficult to have brought about; for it has almost depopulated Pisa, if we compare it to what it was formerly; and it every day lessens the number of inhabitants, even of Florence. It is true strangers pay little, or no taxes directly at Leghorn; but, out of every thing they buy, there goes a large gabel to goverment.
Addison
says, when he was there, that the very ice-merchant paid above one thousand pounds a year for his privilege, and the tobacco merchant ten thousand pounds.
This city is, in reality, the chief port on the Mediterranean; and many of the inhabitants speak English tolerably well. About noon the merchants meet, in a street adjoining to the square, to negociate their respective concerns; at which time many people, of all nations, are to be seen there, as on the Royal Exchange at London.
All degrees of people live here, not only well, but splendidly; well, notwithstanding the exactions of the Grand Duke; for none can buy lands, or houses here, but he must pay eight per cent of their value to the Duke; none can hire, or build a house, without paying the tenth penny; none can marry, or even commence a suit in law, without giving a fee to the Duke; and none can bring so much as an egg, or sallad to market, but the Grand Duke has some share in it.
Barks go daily from Leghorn to Pisa, by a canal sixteen miles long. This canal, besides the great convenience it is of to trade, serves as a drain to several morasses; in winter, indeed, it is sometimes frozen. The passage is only six sous; but what makes it disagreeable is that the company is not always of the best sort. The vessel is drawn along by men, and takes up six hours in the passage. The way, by land, is along a continued plain, over several stone bridges, across the canal; which both fertilizes the soil, and communicates a salubrity to the air, by draining the morasses; however, Leghorn is, by no means, to be ranked amongst the most healthy cities.
Pisa, divided, like Florence, by the Arno, over which it has three bridges, is situated in a fine open country. A magnificent broad quay, on each side the river, the cathedral, baptistery, leaning tower, convents, churches, &c. give it an air of grandeur, in defiance of poverty, and desolation.
Though it is a large city, it has only fifteen thousand inhabitants; and no commerce or manufactories. It is interesting, however, to a stranger, on account of the many learned men, and the good society he will there find. The markets are well supplied with provisions and fruit, at a reasonable rate; and house rent is extremely cheap. It is to be preferred, for a winter residence, to most cities in Italy, for the mildness of its air; but almost deserted in summer, owing to the constant stagnation of vapours.
There are some remarkable buildings in Pisa; as the Duomo; the architect of which was
Buschetto,
a Greek; who began it, according to some accounts, in 1016; according to others, in 1063. It has many fine columns of porphyry, granite, jasper, verd antique. &c. taken from ancient buildings. The bronze gates are extremely curious.
The
companile,
or leaning tower, was finished in 1174. It is about one hundred and fifty feet high; and near fifteen feet out of the perpendicular.
The baptistery is said to have been built 600 years. It is a large circular building, with a high cupola; all of white marble. Its echo is astonishing; and, in duration, surpasses that of the Simonetti seat, near Milan; but the sound of the repercussions is not so clear.
The university has an observatory, furnished with good English instruments; a botanic garden, once very famous, but now much neglected; and a small musaeum, which is modern; and consists of birds, fishes, shells, corals, and fossils.
The hot-baths are four miles out of the town; they are handsome, commodious, and the price of lodgings, and living, is regulated, at a moderate rate, by government.
This city was formerly a celebrated republic; whose formidable fleets often signalized themselves, against the Saracens, in the Levant, on the coast of Africa, and against the Genoese; but, falling under the power of the Florentines, after the declension of their commerce, by the opening of Leghorn harbour, scarce the shadow of its former grandeur now remains. The number of inhabitants, in the eleventh century, were one hundred and fifty thousand. The chief cause, of the declension of this city, was the loss of the immunities it enjoyed when a republic. Some business, says
Busching,
is still carried on in it, on account of its being the place where the gallies are built, and the residence of the knights of the order of St.
Stephen;
who have a palace, and church, of their own, opposite a very fine square, wherein stands a magnificent marble statue of
Cosmo
I. The exchange is a stately building, but little business is transacted in it.
Pisa is remarkable for the imprisonment and death of Count
Ugolino.
In the civil wars, between the Gwelfs and Gibbelins, that desolated all Italy, in the fourteenth century, there was scarce an ecclesiastic that did not take a decided part. The Gwelfs were for the Pope; the Gibbelins for the Emperor of Germany. Count
Ugolino,
who was a violent partizan, was, through the artifices of the archbishop of Pisa, thrown into prison, with his two sons, and there starved to death; the archbishop having thrown the keys into the river, and fled from the city, The punishment of the high priest is recorded by
Dante,
in his Canto of Hell.
See the Plate.
COUNT UGOLINO & HIS TWO SONS STARVED in PRISON.
Sienna, a pretty large city, lies upon three hills, which render the streets very uneven; but this is compensated by the beauty of the prospects, and the great salubrity of the air. It is about five miles in circuit▪ the population amounts to about sixteen, or seventeen thousand inhabitants. It is thought that at Sienna, the Italian language is spoken in its greatest purity, and perfection; on which account many foreigners reside in it, till they have learnt the language.
Sienna, says
Martyn,
in the midst of hills, of the most pleasing shapes, excellently cultivated, is, perhaps, the most desirable place in Italy, for a stranger to pass some time in; the climate being moderate, living reasonable, society good, and the language spoken in the greatest purity. It is also within a moderate distance, both of Rome and Florence; the houses are built with brick, and the streets are paved with it.
The
Piccolimini,
and
Zondadari
palaces are by much the best, all the others being but meanly built; although the many towers erected on private houses, on account of the feuds between the Gwelfs and Gibbelins, give the town a grand appearance at a distance.
Sienna is particularly agreeable in the hot months, on account of its lofty situation, and fine air. It has produced many famous painters, architects, and poets; the nobility are as distinguished as any in Italy, and have a cassino, or assembly of both sexes. The women, says
Keysler,
are beautiful; and have more freedom than in many other parts of Italy. The magistracy consists of a governor, and senate of nine persons called
Excelsi,
whose president is stiled
Capitaneo de populo.
They flatter themselves with retaining a kind of liberty in their election; but this is only an external show; for the senate can take no measure, of any consequence, without permission of the Grand Duke.
Of its curiosities, there is nothing in this city so extraordinary, says
Addison,
as the cathedral; which a man may view with pleasure, after he has seen St.
Peter
's at Rome; though it is quite of another make, and can only be looked upon as one of the masterpieces of Gothic architecture. The materials are rich, the workmanship most elaborate, and the ornaments exquisitely nice, in the Gothic way. The very spouts are loaded with ornaments; the windows are formed like so many scenes of perspective, with a multitude of little pillars, retiring one behind another; the great columns are finely engraven with fruits and foliage, from the very top to the bottom; and the whole body of the church is chequered with different lays of white and black marble; the pavement curiously cut out in designs and scripture-stories; and the front covered with such a variety of figures, and over-run with so many little mazes and labyrinths of sculpture, that nothing in the world can make a prettier shew, to those who prefer false beauties, and affected ornaments, to a noble and majestic simplicity. In this church are the busts of one hundred and seventy popes, in plaister of Paris. Six who were natives of this city; and the twelve apostles are honoured with marble statues.
Near the cathedral is the archbishop's palace; and opposite to it a large, and well-endowed hospital, founded by a shoemaker. There is a figure of him, superscribed
sutor ultra crepidam,
"The shoemaker beyond his last." The university, which was founded by
Charles
V. is in a declining condition. The German students enjoy particular privileges, granted to them by the same emperor.
The Franciscan church here abounds in fine painting. In the convent-garden is an ever-green oak, said to have sprung from St.
Francis
's staff, which was here stuck in the ground.
Spon,
in his travels through Greece, mentions a large wild cherry-tree near the old castle at Smyrna, which is believed, by such of the inhabitants as are of the Greek church, to have been instantaneously produced from the staff of S.
Polycarp.
In like manner
Hercules'
club, which was an olive-tree, is said, by the ancients, to have taken root, and become a flourishing tree.
The territory of Sienna, and that part of Tuscany, between Sienna and Florence, present the traveller, coming from Rome, with a new heaven, and a new earth. The towns, the villages, and the farms, besides their number, are better peopled than in the ecclesiastical state; the lands are better cultivated, the men more robust, and, in their whole carriage, shew that chearfulness, alacrity and vigour, which accompany case and plenty, and are not damped and extinguished by distress. In the very peasants are to be seen those significant physiognomies, which completely answer the pictures of
Dante, Boccace, Machiavel,
&c. To this improvement, and extent of cultivation, is certainly to be attributed the serenity of the sky, which is not clogged here with the fuliginous vapours, exhaled from the wastes of the ecclesiastical state.
CHAP. VIII.
Person, Character, Dress, Customs and Manners of the People.
THAT sensibility of heart, which has long made the Tuscans enamoured with poetry, says
Baretti,
has totally worn out the ferocity, for which they were so remarkable, in the brutal times of the Guelfs and Gibbelines; and has brought them to be, perhaps, the most gentle and amiable nation now extant. Those times may well be called brutal, when we recollect what is recorded in the history of Pisa, of Count
Ugolino
and his two sons. This character of gentleness is, indeed, easily to be perceived by any traveller, as soon as he reaches the highest tops of the Appennines, where all strangers are treated with the softest urbanity by those mountaineers; who, to the simplicity natural to all inhabitants of extensive ridges of hills, join the most obliging expressions, and the most respectful manners. And a traveller must be very peevish, and ill-humoured, who is not satisfied with the rustic benevolence of the Tuscans, as he goes descending towards Florence; where even the custom-house officers treat him with the greatest civility; asking the usual questions with their hats off, visiting his baggage without throwing every thing topsy-turvy, and modestly thanking him for any small coin, slipped into their hands, as a reward for their discretion.
The people here, says
Howell,
seem, in general, to be more courteous, and of a higher comportment, than elsewhere. They are allowed to be inimitable in making repartees, or telling stories with a good grace.
The peasants are tall and well-made; the women remarkably handsome and very fair; they are extremely clean and well-dressed; and, on Sundays and holidays, their hair is nicely and becomingly adjusted, and ornamented with a very small hat, elegantly trimmed, and worn just above the left ear; and, on the other side, a mat of flowers is often interwoven, with strings of pearl; they wear ear-rings of five, or seven drops of pearl set in gold, and necklaces composed of several rows of the same. When at work, or when they bring their goods to market, their hair is confined by a silk net of crimson, scarlet, or blue silk; and tied by two strings, ornamented with tassels, which are frequently of gold or silver. They do not wear gowns, but a kind of jacket, without sleeves. They have no other covering for the upper part of the arm, but their shift sleeves; which are tied with ribband. Their petticoats are generally of a scarlet colour, and above one ear they fix their little straw hat; the whole of which dress gives them a more gay, smart, coquetish air, says
Moore,
than any country girls I ever saw.
The Italians, in general, are the greatest loungers in the world; and, while walking in the fields, or stretched in the shade, seem to enjoy the serenity, and genial warmth of their climate, with a degree of luxurious indulgence, peculiar to themselves. Without ever running into the daring excesses of the English, or displaying the frisky vivacity of the French, or the invincible phlegm of the Germans; they discover a species of sedate sensibility to every source of enjoyment; from which, perhaps, they derive a greater degree of happiness, than any of the other. The frequent processions, and religious ceremonies, besides amusing and comforting them, serve to fill up their time, and prevent that
ennui,
and those immoral practices, which are apt to accompany poverty and idleness. It is necessary, for the quiet and happiness of every community, that the populace be employed. Some politicians imagine that their whole time should be spent in gainful industry. Others think, that though the riches of the state will not be augmented; yet the general happiness, which is a more important object, will be promoted; by blending the occupation of industry, with a considerable proportion of such superstitious ceremonies, as awaken the future hopes, without lulling the present benevolence of the multitude.
In all the great cities of Italy, says
Sharpe,
several shops are shut up, from twelve, to half after one; or longer, so sacred is the ceremony of dining. Even servants insist on this privilege, to a degree truly ridiculous. An English gentleman, not apprized of this custom upon his first arrival in Italy, possibly calls for his servant when the man is just set down to dine; but, if he calls twenty times, he receives no other answer than that he is at dinner;
(a Tavola signore)
"At table, Sir;" which every Italian servant supposes to be a sufficient reason that his master should wait, though the business were ever so pressing.
Society, says
Moore,
seems to be on an easy and agreeable footing in Florence. Besides the
conversazioni,
which they have here, as in other towns of Italy, a number of the nobility meet every day, at a house called the
Casino.
This society is pretty much on the same footing with the clubs in London. The members are elected by ballot, meet at no particular hour, but go when it is convenient. They play at billiards, cards, and other games, or continue conversing the whole evening, as they think proper. They are served with tea, coffee, lemonade, ices, or what other refreshments they chuse; and each person pays for what he calls for. There is one material difference between this and the English clubs, viz. that women, as well as men, are admitted members.
The company, of both sexes, behave with more frankness and familiarity to strangers, as well as to each other, than is customary at public assemblies, in other parts of Italy.
The opera of Florence is a place where the people of quality pay, and receive visits, and converse as freely as at the
Casino.
This occasions a continual passing and re-passing to, and from, the boxes, except in those where there is a party of cards formed; it is then looked upon as a piece of ill-manners to disturb the players. I was never more surprized, says the above writer, than when it was proposed to me to make one of a whist party, in a box which seemed to have been made for the purpose; with a little table in the middle. I hinted that it would be full as convenient to have the party somewhere else; but I was told good music added greatly to the pleasure of a whist party; that it increased the joy of good fortune, and soothed the affliction of bad. As I thought the people of this country better acquainted with the power of music than myself, I contested the point no longer; but generally played two or three rubbers at whist, in the stage-box, every opera night.
Hence it may be perceived that in this city, as in some other towns in Italy, little attention is paid to the music, by the company in the boxes; except at some new opera, or during some favourite air. But the dancers command a general attention; as soon as they begin, conversation ceases; even the card-players lay down their cards, and fix their eyes on the ballet. Yet the excellence of Italian dancing consists in feats of strength, and a kind of jerking agility, more than in graceful movement. There is a continual contest among the performers who shall spring highest. None of the sprightly alluring gaiety, of the French comic-dancers, is to be seen here; nor of the graceful attitudes, and smooth flowing motions, of the performers in the serious opera at Paris,
On the evenings on which there is no opera, it is usual, for genteel company, to drive to a public walk, immediately without the city, where they remain till it begins to grow duskish; some riding in coaches, and others walking. It is not customary to see married people together in their excursions; but the husband in a coach with another lady, and the wife with another gentleman. When ladies walk, their footmen go before; and, in their coaches, they are very polite, and often bow first, especially to strangers. It is not unusual to see a large fellow fanning himself, and fine women riding astride; as also to see a score of boys, coming from school, with books under their arms, and swords by their sides. Persons of every profession, even to the valet, may wear a sword; but physicians are obliged to drive their chariots with a single horse.
At all the houses of the nobles in Florence, is an empty cask hanging out, to denote they sell wine by retail; this custom shocks an Englishman, as very derogatory to their dignity; and he cannot but speak of it with surprize. A Florentine cooly, and sensibly answers, "Sir, your Duke of —, by the interposition of his steward, sells a tree for ten shillings; a Florentine Noble, by his porter at the door, sells ten shillings worth of wine; but our Noble appears no more in the sale of his wine, than your Duke in the sale of his tree: different countries have their different modes." The fact is, that great part of the rent of estates in Italy is paid in kind; which, joined with a certain exemption from the duty on wine, granted to nobles, has led them into this seeming littleness.
I was at a most elegant concert, says
Sharpe,
during my stay in Florence, given by the Lucchese envoy. The custom, on this occasion, is, to calculate the number of persons the room will hold, and to invite accordingly; but ladies only are invited. It is computed that cards sent to twenty, or twenty-six ladies, will bring near fourscore gentlemen; and the number, at this assembly, answered to that calculation. The greatest disproportion, between the number of ladies, at the Italian
conversazioni,
and the London routs, is very striking to an Englishman; but the phenomenon admits of an easy solution. No single ladies visit in Italy; all, who are seen in the world, are married women. If a gentleman here has three sons, and three daughters, two of the daughters are, most probably, in a convent, whilst all the three sons, at least two of them, have nothing else to do, than frequent the spectacles, and the
conversazioni.
In Florence, adds
Sharpe,
the generality of ladies have their cicisbeos; the first is the cicisbeo of dignity; the second is the cicisbeo who picks up the glove, gives the fan, and pulls off, or puts on, the cloak, &c. the third cicisbeo is, by the wags, deemed the substantial cicisbeo, or lover.—But God knows how these matters go, says
Sharpe;
for, in public, the ladies behave with so much modesty, and with so much decorum, that one would be tempted to treat some of these reports as mere calumny, were not the truth of them so notorious; in fact, the universality of the vice has, in a manner, divested it of the appearance of vice. In England a woman, who is publicly criminal, usually becomes profligate and abandoned; here almost every woman, of however virtuous a disposition, falls into the general custom, and is equally criminal, with the woman of loose principles; so that the distinction of good and bad, that is, of chaste and dissolute, is hardly known in Italy, says
Sharpe;
in a word, tis the mode, the
etiquette,
the
bon ton
of the fine people.
Baretti
is extremely enraged with the above writer, for these sarcasms thrown out against his countrywomen;
Moore
likewise endeavoured to palliate this singular custom, of the Italian ladies having cicisbeos to attend them every where, by observing that the Italians, finding that the confinement of their wives, which was a plan they formerly adopted, was universally reprobated, and that any appearance of jealousy likewise subjected them to ridicule; agreed that their wives should go with company, and attend public places; but always escorted by a friend whom they could trust; and who, at the same time, should not be disagreeable to the wife. This compromise could not fail of being acceptable to the women, who plainly perceived they must be gainers by any alteration of the former system; and it soon became universal all ovet Italy, for a woman to appear at public places, leaning on the arms of a man; who, from their frequent whispering together, was called her cicisbeo. It was stipulated at the same time, that the lady, while abroad under his care, should converse with no other man, but in his presence, and with his approbation; he was to be her guardian, her friend, and her gentleman-usher.
The custom at present is, that this obsequious gentleman visits the lady, every forenoon, at her toilet, where the plan for passing the evening is agreed upon; he disappears before dinner, for it is usual, all over Italy, for the husband and wife to dine
tête-à-tête,
except on great occasions; as when there is a public feast. After dinner the husband retires, and the cicisbeo returns, and conducts the lady to the public walk, the
conversazioni,
or the opera; he hands her about whereever she goes, presents her coffee, sorts her cards, and attends, with the most pointed assiduity, till the amusements of the evening are over; he accompanies her home, and delivers up his charge to the husband, who is then supposed to resume his functions.
From the nature of this connection, it could not be an easy matter to find a cicisbeo, who would be equally agreeable to the husband and wife. At the beginning of the institution, the husbands, it is said, preferred the platonic swains, who professed only the metaphysics of love; and whose lectures, they imagined, might refine their wives ideas, and bring them to the same way of thinking; in many instances, no doubt, it would happen that the platonic admirer acted with less seraphic ends; but these instances serve only as proofs that the husbands were mistaken in their men; for however absurd it may appear, in the eyes of some people, to imagine that the husbands believe it is only a platonic connection, which subsists between their wives and the cicisbeos; it is still more absurd to believe, as some strangers who have passed through this country seem to have done, that this whole system of cicisbeism was from the beginning, and is now, an universal system of adultery, connived at by every Italian husband. To get clear of one difficulty, those gentlemen fall into another, much more inexplicable; by supposing that the men, who, of all the inhabitants of Europe, were the most scrupulous, with regard to their wives chastity, should acquiesce in, and, in a manner, become subservient to, their prostitution.
The cicisbeo, in many instances, is a poor relation, or a humble friend; who, not being in circumstances to support an equipage, is happy to be admitted into all the societies; and to be carried about to public diversions, as an appendage to the lady. There are numbers of these gentlemen whose appearance, and bodily infirmities, carried the clearest refutation, with respect to themselves personally, of the scandalous stories of an improper connection between them and their mistresses. The humble and timid air, which many of them betray in the presence of the ladies, and the perseverance with which they continue their services, notwithstanding the contemptuous stile in which they are often treated, is equally unlike the haughtiness natural to favoured lovers, and the indifference of men satiated with enjoyment.
There are, it must be confessed, cicisbeos of a very different stamp; whose figure and manners might be supposed more agreeable to the ladies they serve, than to their lords. I once expressed my surprize, says
Moore,
that a particular person permitted one of this description to attend his wife. I was told, by way of solution of my difficulty, that the husband was poor, and the cicisbeo rich. It is not in Italy alone where infamous connections of this kind take place.
I have also known instances where the characters of the ladies were so well established, as not to be shaken, either in the opinion of their acquaintances, or husbands; although their gallants were, in every respect, agreeable and accomplished.
But, whether the connection be supposed innocent, or criminal, most Englishmen will be astonished how men can pass so much of their time with women. This will appear less surprising, when they recollect that the Italian nobility dare not intermeddle with politics, can find no employment in the army or navy; and that there are no such amusements as hunting or drinking. In such a situation, if a man of fortune has no turn to gaming, what must he do? Even an Englishman, in these desperate circumstances, might be driven to the company and conversation of women, to lighten the burden of time. The Italians have persevered so long in this expedient, that however extraordinary it may seem, to those who never tried it, there can be no doubt but they find it to succeed. They assert that nothing so effectually soothes the cares, and beguiles the tediousness of life, as the company of an agreeable woman; that, though the intimacy should never exceed the limits of friendship, there is something more flattering, and more agreeable in it, than in male friendship; that they find the female heart more sincere, less interested, and warmer in its attachments; and that women, in general, have more delicacy than men. But it may be replied, that a man can enjoy all these advantages, to as great perfection, by an intimacy and friendship with his own wife, as with his neighbour's?
"Non Monsieur, point,"
No, Sir, by no means, answered a Frenchman, to whom this question was once addressed.
"Et pourquoi done? Parceque cela n'est pas permis."
And why not—because it is not the fashion? This does not seem a very satisfactory answer, to so pertinent a question; it is, however, the only answer to be obtained all over Italy.
This system is, however, unknown to the middle, and lower ranks; they pass their time in the exercise of their professions, and in the society of their wives and children, as in other countries; and, in that sphere of life, jealousy, which formed so strong a feature in the Italian character, is still to be found as strong as ever. He who attempts to visit the wife, or mistress of any of the trades-people, without their permission, is in no small danger of a
coltellata.
Is has often been asserted, that Italian women have remarkable powers of attracting their lovers. Those powers, whatever they are, do not seem to depend entirely on personal charms; as many of them retain their influence after their beauty is much in the vane: and they themselves considerably advanced in years. I know, says
Moore,
an Italian nobleman, of great fortune, who has been lately married to a very beautiful young woman, and yet continues his assiduity to his former mistress, now an old woman, as punctual as ever.
Whatever satisfaction the Italians find in this kind of constancy, and in their friendly attachments to one woman; my friend, the marquis de
F
—, says
Moore,
told me, when I saw him at Paris, that he had tried it while he remained at Rome, and found it quite intolerable. A certain obliging ecclesiastic had taken the trouble, at the earnest request of a lady of that city, to arrange matters between her and the marquis, who was put into immediate possession of all the rights that were ever supposed to belong to a cicisbeo. The woman detested her husband, which had advanced matters considerably; and her passion for the marquis was in proportion to her abhorrence of the other. In this state things had remained but a very short time, when the marquis called, one afternoon, to drive the Abbé out a little way into the country; but he happened to have just dined. The meals of this ecclesiastic were generally oppressive, for two or three hours after they were finished; he therefore declined the invitation, saying, by way of apology,
Je suis dans les horreurs de la digestion.
"I am in all the horrors of digestion." He then enquired how the marquis's amour went on with the lady.
Ah pour l'amour cela est a peu près passé,
replied the marquis,
& nous sommes actuellement dans les horreurs de l'amitiê.
"Oh! as for love, that is past, says the marquis, and we are now in all the horrors of friendship."
The lower people in Italy, who have bread enough, spend more than would easily be credited in wine; though neither their abilities, nor the example of their betters, lead them into drunkenness. They have a notion that it is wholesome, and therefore give it to their children at the breast. Some of the Florentine nobles allow their men-servants seven or eight shillings a month, for this article only, rather than furnish them with it, which they always spend.
As to their table, says
Grosley,
I have often heard people, with a sneer, extol the Florentine suppers; which, say they, consist of a few sallad leaves, gathered by the guests themselves, from pots standing at the window, and garnished with a little wild endive. I have, however, dined at some houses in Florence; where, besides plenty and goodness, every thing was served up extremely neat; the wine excellent; and, what improved the relish of the whole, was that festivity inherent in the Florentines. I must further add, that, in the whole course of my travels, I never found an inn, where we fared so well, were so well attended, and the bills so reasonable, as at Florence; an evident proof of the plenty, and super-abundance of provisions.
The palaces of the nobles in Florence are very large; indeed they are of such extent that, usually, only one floor is occupied at the same time. During winter they inhabit the upper apartments; and, in summer, reside entirely on the ground-floor; a most agreeable piece of luxury in the northern parts of Italy, which are of such opposite degrees of heat and cold, in the two seasons. House-rent is very cheap in Florence.
The Lake of Nemi.
The Author having been presented with a beautiful drawing, of the lake of Nemi, too late to insert in its place, the description of that part of Italy having been printed, is unwilling to lose the opportunity of giving it to his readers, and he trusts they will excuse the insertion of it here. The description is from
Addison
's Travels.
In our excursion to Albano we went, says he, as far as Nemi, that takes its name from the
Nemus Dianoe,
or Wood of
Diana.
The whole country round is still over-run with woods and thickets. The lake of Nemi lies in a deep bottom, so surrounded, on all sides, with mountains and groves, that its surface is never ruffled with the least breath of wind; which, perhaps, with the clearness of its water, gave it formerly the name of
Diana
's Looking Glass.
Prince
Coesarini
has a palace at Jensano, very near Nemi, in a pleasant situation, and embellished with many beautiful walks.
There is nothing at Albano so remarkable as the Capuchins' garden; which, for the extent and variety of pleasing incidents, is the most delightful I ever saw. It takes in the whole campania of Rome, and terminates in a full view of the Mediterranean.
This place is in the Pope's territories.
CHAP. IX.
Of their Amusements, Arts, Literature, Commerce, &c.
ON every twenty-fourth of June they have a horse, and chariot race in this city, in imitation of the ancients; and as a festivity in honour of St.
John
the Baptist, the tutelar saint of Florence. It is exhibited in the great square, which is surrounded by guards to keep off the mob. The horses start without riders; and run full two miles, through the streets, from the gate called
del prato,
to that called
santa croce.
The streets are covered with sand on this occasion; and the horses have a round machine, something like a ball, hanging down their sides by strings, with small iron pricks in it, as sharp as the point of a lancet; so that the faster they run, the more they spur themselves. They start for a piece of velvet, of about thirty pounds value, and run with incredible speed. Before these races begin, the principal nobility and gentry parade the streets in their finest equipages. Their coaches are prodigiously grand, finely carved, and richly gilt, with glass all around them. They go down on one side of the street, and up the other, for two hours; meeting and saluting one another. The ladies make a most brilliant, and charming appearance, as they are generally beautiful, and richly dressed. When the horses are ready to start, notice is given, by sound of trumpet, for the coaches to quit the street. Then the quality go into houses, most of which have balconies covered with tapestry, some with fine damask, and others with velvet; which renders the street, from one end to the other, extremely pleasant and gay.
The carnival is also a time of great diversion among the Florentines, who are then generally masked; and assemble, in the afternoon, in the square of
santa croce,
which is railed in, sometimes, to the number of ten thousand masks, and upwards, richly dressed, in all kinds of characters; but no priest dares to be present, at these diversions, in mask, for fear of the inquisition. While these diversions pass within the rails, others are going forward on the outside, either in coaches or cars; some of which are full of musicians, who sit on benches, as in our orchestra, dressed in the most whimsical grotesque manner; and play a variety of tunes, on different instruments. The drivers, and even their horses, are all in masquerade; so that it is impossible to conceive the gaiety of this carnival, which continues about three weeks, or a month; but Sundays are the greatest days for these diversions, which end when Lent begins.
Corpus Christi day is also a grand festival at Florence; when the clergy go, in solemn procession, to the cathedral. The different orders of monks are then dressed in long sashes, and each person carries a lighted torch in his hand, through the streets, which are strewed with flowers, and leaves of ever-green. Above one thousand of them walk two and two, in this procession, according to their seniority; some of whom have silver candlesticks, near five feet high, with large wax candles, lighted, carrying before them. The priests follow next, in great numbers; then the clergy belonging to the cathedral; after these come the canons, who are chiefly of the nobility, some with purple and scarlet cloaks; others with fine pieces of camel skins hanging loose on their shoulders. These are succeeded by the dignified clergy; after whom follows the archbishop of Florence, under a magnificent canopy, with the host in his hand, attended by the nobility and gentry, all bare headed, and each carrying a lighted flambeau, with their servants by their side. These are followed by the guards, bare-headed, and they are succeeded by the magistrates in their robes. This procession begins about six in the morning, and continues passing by till noon, through several streets, covered on the tops with canvas, to make an agreeable shade.
It is but little more than three centuries since that part of Italy, which lies between the Tyrrhene sea and the highest mountains of the Apennines, was divided into eight or nine small republican states; each so jealous of the rest, that they were continually making war upon each other, with as much fury as the paucity of their troops would admit.
Their dissentions proved fatal to their liberty; being all reduced under the the dominion of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, except the little territory of Lucca. The Tuscans, in that divided and republican state, were a most ferocious and brutal people; but having lost that, which, in the common language of politicians, has long been honoured with the name of liberty, thought, as they enjoyed it by no means deserving of that respectable appellation, the inclinations and manners of the Tuscans underwent a happy change. Arts and literature were the only occupations in which, under their new form of government, they could find full employment for their busy and restless minds. They turned to them on a sudden; and with such eagerness, that soon forced mankind to look upon them, as the only people in Europe, fit to be their teacher.
On seeing literature and arts thus happily revived in Tuscany, several of the greatest, among the sovereigns of Europe, became sensible of their efficacy towards polishing the human species; and were desirous of having them introduced into their respective dominions.
To obtain this laudable end, several of the French monarchs invited many of the most celebrated artists, and men of letters from Florence, and other parts of Tuscany, and encouraged them with such liberality, that in a little time they were able to produce a very remarkable change, in the manners of that nation; till then addicted to, almost, nothing but barbarous gallantry, and the destructive art of war. Thus Tuscany was the mistress of politeness to France; and this little province may justly boast of having produced, and nearly at one time, a greater number of extraordinary men, than any, says
Baretti,
of the most extensive European dominions.
The good effects produced in Tuscany, by the cultivation of arts and literature, continue to this time. It is true the Tuscans are inferior to their forefathers, in many respects, and particularly in the polite arts; but where is the modern nation whose artists can claim any equality with
Michael Angelo, C. Lionardo, Donatello, Cellini,
and other ingenious men of that age? Yet the Tuscans are still possessed of as much skill and taste, in those arts, as any other modern nations; as the accounts given, by almost all travellers, of the elegance of their buildings, furniture, and general mode of living attest; add to this, the many Tuscan artists to be met with, in the different capitals on the continent, and particularly in London. As to their academical accomplishments, those who have taken the trouble to read the writings of
Gori, Cocchi, Lami, Perelli,
and other modern Tuscan writers, must allow that Florence is intitled to as much literary fame, as any town in Europe, of equal dimensions.
Among the general characteristics of the Florentines is their love of poetry, and their custom of
improvisare,
or singing verse
ex tempore,
to the guitar, or any other musical instruments.
Both these qualities in them are of very ancient date. The Tuscans were smitten by the charms of poetry, to a greater degree than any other people, as soon as their language began to be turned towards verse. One of our novellists, remarks the above writer, says that the common people of Florence used to sing the poem of
Dante,
about the streets, during the life of that poet; whom we justly consider as our first poetic writer. It appears, besides, that the ancient odes, songs, &c. collected by
Lasca,
were chiefly composed by people of the lowest class in Tuscany; such as shoemakers, carpenters, coblers, barbers, &c.
Having now spoken of their literature, we shall give a striking anecdote of their ignorance and superstition; extracted from
Sharpe,
who avers it to be fact. Madame
Minorbetti,
a woman of distinction at Florence, gave occasion, from her name, says this writer, to one of the most ridiculous events that ever fell within my knowledge; and which would put to the blush some of the curious Greek etymologies we are entertained with in the posthumous works of Dean
Swift.
He asserts, for the honour of Great Britain, that many of those names, which we call Greek, are derived from the English language; and, by corruption, have attained the cast of the Greek language. For example, he says, "
Andromache
is a corruption of the Scotch name
Andrew Mackay; Archimedes
of Hark ye maids," &c. &c. It seems a relation of Madame
Minorbetti,
in the agonies of death, was desirous to have a famous relic in Florence, no less than an arm of our Archbishop
Becket,
brought to his bed-side; from a persuasion he should be restored to health, by its miraculous influence. The monk, in whose possession the arm is, rejected the petition; and pleaded the impossibility of carrying it beyond the precincts of the convent; the relations, on the other hand, urged that they were descended from the family of the
Beckets,
and, therefore that such usage might be dispensed with; the argument was admitted to be good, and the monk only demanded a proof of the consanguinity; which was demonstrated in the following manner:—"A bishop," said they, "in England, is always called
Milor,
(my Lord) which easily, in Italian, is corrupted into
Minor;
then
Becket
as easily degenerates into
Betti;
so that
Milor-Becket,
naturally becomes
Minor-betti."
This notable argument was deemed so valid, that the relic was brought out of the convent to the sick man.
Among instances of foreign barbarism, the Florentines make themselves very merry with the behaviour of the confessor of
Don Carlos,
at the door of the Medicean library. This confessor, attended the young prince, when he went to take possession of the Tuscan dominions. Being the only person in the suite, the cut of whose garment promised any scholarship; the librarian, concluding he must long to see one of the most spendid monuments, which the munificence of princes ever dedicated to literature, immediately waited on him, with a very respectful invitation. He received the compliment tolerably well, and a day was fixed. The director of the library had collected all the most eminent
literati
in Florence; and the confessor, after partaking of a very elegant collation, moved towards the library, followed by this respectable company. On coming to the door he stopped; and, after gazing about him for an instant, called out to the director, "Mr. Librarian, have you got the the book of the Seven Trumpets here?" The director said he had not; and the whole company, with some confusion, owned they had never heard of such a book. "Well then," said the confessor, turning back, "your whole library is not worth a pipe of tobacco." No time was lost to get an account of this book; which was found to be a collection of pious stories, put into Spanish, for the use of the lowest of the common people in Spain.
In the most flourishing aeras of the republic, commerce, banking, and industry were the nurture and support of the nobility.
Cosmo de Medicis
became the principal man in the state, because he was the principal merchant and banker of Florence, if not of all Europe.
Peter
his son, and
Laurence
his grandson, continued commerce, and banking. All the public and private edifices of any celebrity were erected by merchants; and the greater part by persons in the woollen trade. To this manufacture the republic of Florence chiefly owed its grandeur. The names of the commercial houses, at the head of the paper, linen, wood, tile, cheese, and coal trades, still subsist.
Commerce at Florence is now reduced to a very low ebb, in comparison to what it was formerly. The woollen manufacture, in particular, scarce supplies the common people; as to all the fine cloth, it is imported from England.
Of silk, Tuscany produces an immense quantity; which, though of such superior quality, is exported raw. The regency, however, to keep such a valuable commodity in the country, and thereby encourage industry, have prohibited its exportation. Accordingly, former manufacturers are reviving, and new ones setting up. All exports of this kind, such as sattins, damasks, velvets, are well executed, the colours fine, and the patterns elegant, and drawn with taste.
Jewellery, and porcelain, the manufactories of which have continued in Tuscany from the ancient Etruscans, and Intagliatas, employ a considerable number of hands, though they can scarce be accounted branches of commerce.
Dying was formerly carried on to a very great extent; as the territory of Tuscany produces a plant said to be a good substitute for indigo; and which might easily be fown in such quantities, as to make a considerable article of exportation.
The wine all round Florence is in great request all over Italy. It is both stomachic and light; and thus unites the
generosum
and
lene,
which was its great recommendation to the ancients.
Among the many excellent regulations, which owe either their origin or improvement to this country, we have omitted financing; the importance and advantages of which must be estimated by the brilliant, and solid fortunes gained by it; and not from the calamity of the countries, which have been the theatre of its speculations.
This science, with which the more northern countries are little acquainted, was, for a long time, cultivated by the Florentines; who managed it with all that dexterity, and address, for which they were distinguished in commerce. It was one of the principal resources in the last struggles for liberty, in the years 1530, and 1531. Those, who followed the fortunes of
Catherine de Medicis
into France, finding the country fallow, began tilling it with
financing,
which lasted during part of the reign of
Lewis
XIII. The chief contractors were Florentines; either such as had quitted their country, or still kept an establishment at Florence; the very terms, in financing, bespeak the country from whence they originated; most of them being borrowed from the Italian.
The Grand Duke's ordinary income is computed at three millions of piasters a year. In 1753, it was re-resolved that in future the entire military force, of this great duchy, should consist only of three regiments of foot, and one of dragoons of five hundred men. In 1755, another regiment of dragoons was added, and the militia was formed into regiments; but the Great Duke is said, in case of necessity, to be able to bring into the field 30,000 men; and to fit out twenty ships of war, twelve gallies, and some cutters.
Of this duchy, the chief officer, at present, is a governor, appointed by the Great Duke. He resides at Florence; where is also a council of regency, the military board, and other officers of state.
CHAP. IX.
Republic of Saint Marino.
THIS small state, inclosed by Romagna and Urbino, is under the Popes protection; it has already lasted near fourteen centuries, and is said to have its origin in the following manner.
Marino,
a Dalmatian by birth, and a mason by trade, betook himself to a lonely mountain here; where his austere and solitary life gained him such a character for sanctity, that the princess of the country made him a present of the country, to dispose of it at his own discretion. This reputation quickly peopled it, and gave rise to the republic which calls itself after his name. So that the common wealth of Marino may boast, at least, of a nobler origin than that of
Rome;
the one, at first, having been an asylum for robbers and murderers; and the other the resort of persons eminent for their piety, and devotion. The best of their churches is dedicated to the saint, and holds his ashes. His statue stands over the high altar, with the figure of a mountain in his hands; which is also the arms of the common wealth. They attribute to his protection the long duration of their state; and look on him as the greatest saint, next the blessed virgin. In their statute-book, they have enacted a law against such as speak disrepectfully of him; who are to be punished in the same manner, as those convicted of blasphemy.
The town, and republic of
Saint Marino,
stands on the top of a very high, and craggy mountain. It is generally hid among the clouds. There is not a spring, or fountain in the whole dominions; but they are always well provided with large cisterns, and reservoirs of rain, and snow-water.
This mountain, and a few neighbouring hillocks that lie scattered about the bottom of it, is the whole circuit of their dominions. They have, what they call, three castles, three convents, and five churches; and reckon about five thousand inhabitants in their community.
The people are divided into three classes; nobles, citizens, and peasants. The council of state is formed from all three; twenty chosen from each, who act for life. Every six months they elect two chiefs to preside, called captains, who are invested with such a power as the old Roman consuls had; but the office is never to be continued to the same person's turn successively; the one is taken from the nobles, the other from the city, or country. There is no superiority between them, or distinction, but in the nobleman's taking the right hand. The third officer is the commissary; who judges in all civil, and criminal matters: he is allowed the fine which those persons are obliged to pay, who are found culpable before him, by the council, or jury. Because the many alliances, friendships and intermarriages, as well as the personal feuds, and animosities, that happen, among so small a people, might obstruct the court of justice, if one of their own number had the distribution of it, they have always a foreigner for this employ; whom they chuse for three years, and maintain out of the public stock. He must be a doctor of law, and a man of known integrity. He is joined in commission with the two captains, or chiefs; and acts something like the recorder of London, under the Lord Mayor.
The physician is the fourth man in the state, and is allowed 200 crowns a year. He is obliged to keep a horse, visit the sick, and inspect all the drugs that are imported. He must be, at least, thirty-five years old; a doctor of the faculty, and eminent for his religion, and honesty; that his rashness or ignorance may not unpeople the commonwealth; and, that they may not long suffer under a bad choice, he also is elected only for three years.
Another person, who makes no ordinary figure in the republic, is the school-master; and scarce any of the inhabitants are to be met with, who have not some tincture of learning.
No clergy are admitted into their government; and once a year, three young women are given in marriage, with a fortune of thirty-three crowns each.
No execution, says
Northall,
had ever been remembered here by the person who gave me an account of the place; though he was one of the nobles, and upwards of fifty years of age. So that,
Addison
justly observes, that the people are esteemed very honest, and vigorous in the execution of justice; and seem to live more happy, and contented, among their rocks, and snows, than the rest of the Italians, in the pleasantest valleys of Italy. Nothing can be a greater instance of the love mankind have for liberty, and their aversion to arbitrary government, than to see such a savage mountain covered with people, and the campagna of Rome, almost destitute of inhabitants.
Map
of the REPUBLIC of
VENICE,
with the surrounding STATES.
A DESCRIPTION OF THE TERRITORIES OF VENICE, FROM BUSHING, MOORE, KEYSLER, NORTHALL, MILLAR, PIOZZI, MARTIN, BARETTI, GROSLEY, AND OTHERS.
CHAP. I.
Country, Climate.
THE Venetian territories, in Italy, are bounded by the country of the Grisons; by Trent, and the province of Tyrol, towards the North; by Carniola, and the gulph of Venice, to the East; by Mantua and Ferrara to the South; and by the Duchy of Milan to the West; being about 180 miles in extent, from East to West; an hundred in breadth, toward the east end, but scarce half that breadth towards the western extremity. They are situated in thirteen degrees of East longitude, and forty-five degrees of North latitude.
The islands, on which the city of Venice stands, were formerly subject to Padua; the Goths, and other northen people, invading Italy in the fifth century; the inhabitants of Padua, Aquileia, and other cities on the continent, fled thither for shelter, and formed a republic.
The Venetians soon became very rich and powerful, having by their industry engrossed most of the Levant trade; from Alexandria, and the ports of Asia, they also brought all the rich merchandize of India, and the eastern nations; and distributed them all over Europe. They were then, in a manner, sovereigns of the Mediterranean, as well as the Adriatic seas; they possessed the Morea, the islands of the Archipelago, and the Levant; they subdued great part of Italy, North of the Po; and, in conjunction with the French, reduced the city of Constantinople, and several other places on the coasts of Asia, and Europe; but, upon the Portuguese discovering the way to India by the cape of Good Hope, their trade, and consequently their wealth, and power declined. They lost most of the Grecian islands, and likewise their territories on the continent of Italy; but the latter they recovered. The Morea was taken from them in 1715, in a single campaign. They, however, still retain Istria, Morlachia, the sea-coast of Dalmatia, and the adjacent islands; besides the Paduan, Veronese, and other territories in Italy; of all which we shall treat in their proper order, beginning with those in Italy.
Some writers have divided the Venetian territories, exclusive of the islands of Corfu, and in the Mediteranean, into five provinces; the duchy of Venice, comprehending the capital, and its adjacent little islands, Venetian Lombardy,
La Marca Trevigiana
one of the richest spots in Italy; the duchy of Friuli; and Istria on the Adriatic. The Venetians are also in possession of some fiefs in the kingdom of the two Sicilies; and the general population is estimated at near three million of inhabitants.
The principal islands, at present in their possession, are Corfu, Zant, and Cephalonia; the former of which is calculated to have about fifty thousand inhabitants. The other islands, in the Mediterranean, contain about as many more.
The Venetian territories in Italy, being part of ancient Lombardy, there cannot be a finer climate, nor better air; if we except those parts adjoining to the sea-coast. The only sea, which belongs to the Venetians, is the Adriatic; or Venetian gulph, as it is otherwise termed; at the bottom of which lies the capital. The tide ebbs, and flows, regularly twice in four and twenty hours; rising about four feet at high water. Nor, if we may credit
Addison,
are they in the least apprehensive that the sea will leave their coast, which some writers have asserted, and that Venice would, in time, become united to the continent. There is no part of Italy where fish is so abundant, as in the gulph of Venice.
The sea, and neighbouring rivers, says
Keysler,
furnish the Venetian tables, at the proper seasons of the year, with no less than seventy-seven different kinds of fish; several of which are peculiar to these parts.
The principal rivers are, the Po, the Piava, the Adige, the Sila, and the Brenta; all which fall into the Adriatic. This country is also well watered with lakes; the principal of which are the lake
de Garda,
being about thirty-five miles in length, and twelve in breadth; and the Isco, fifteen miles in length, and three in breadth.
The country, in general, is level, and as fertile as any part of Italy; it abounds in arable and pasture land, in vineyards, and plantations of mulberries. The road, between Verona and Padua, is very pleasant, being planted with great quantities of white mulberry-trees, in squares; the leaves of which not only furnish food for their silk worms; and the mulberries food for their poultry and hogs; but the branches, likewise, serve to support the vines; which hang like garlands, from tree to tree; and within the inclosures, are fields of corn; which, in these hot countries, ripen much better within the shades of the mulberry trees, than if they were exposed to the sun.
There are also great quantities of cattle, of all kinds, which travellers remark are, in general, either grey or white; but that their hogs are usually black; and their flesh much sweeter, and better tasted than in France or England; this is supposed to be owing to their food, as they are fed chiefly with truffles, which are a delicious root; they are also fed with the husks of grapes, newly pressed, chesnuts, mulberries, &c. The Padua sheep are said to afford wool little inferior to that of England; and there is no country where there is such plenty of fowls, and all manner of game, as in the territories of Venice.
The Venetian territories, says
Beaufort,
are, in general, equally fertile with the most cultivated parts of Italy. In some parts agriculture is carried to its highest pitch of perfection. There are, however, some marshes, and uncultivated land, in the districts of Verona, Istria, Friuli, and especially in Dalmatia; the greatest part of which is little better than a desert. It is owing to this circumstance, that a scarcity of corn is generally felt, every four or five years. In ordinary years, all kinds of corn grows in great abundance, especially maize; which is the principal subsistence of the common people. Wine, culinary herbs, and fruits are, almost always, produced in great abundance; with respect to corn, though the continent scarce furnishes enough for its own consumption, Istria, Dalmatia, and the Venetian Levant, grow such large quantities, that a great deal is exported. Several of the districts produce very fine hemp and flax. The islands of the Levant abound with Corinthian grapes. Albania produces tobacco of the very best quality; a great deal is likewise brought from Sclavonia, and from Turkey. The silk that is produced in Lombardy, likewise, helps to support all the manufactures of the country. The mines of Bergamo, and Brescia, are also a great source of wealth.
CHAP. II.
Cities.
VENICE, in Latin
Venetia,
or
Venetioe,
the capital, and seat of the republic, makes a very grand appearance at a distance; as seeming, from its being built on a multitude of little islands, to float upon the sea; or rather, with its stately buildings, and steeples, to seem as it were rising out of it. The number of these islands still remains uncertain; some reckoning sixty, others seventy-two, and others again, making them amount to one hundred and thirty-eight. But the latter enumeration must comprehend all those places, which have gradually been raised in the
Laguna,
by driving piles in the ground for building on. This city stands, at least, four miles from any part of the
terra firma;
and is, perhaps, the most impregnable town in Europe. The
Laguna,
or marshy land, lying between the city and the continent; which is five miles in breadth, is too shallow for large ships; but, by the attention of the republic, is prevented from becoming part of the continent, and from being ever so frozen, as to bear an army. The access to Venice, towards the sea, is also difficult; but the safe, and navigable parts are indicated by piles; which, at the approach of an enemy's fleet, can cut away. Besides, as a considerable number of gallies, and men of war, may be fitted out very expeditiously for sea, from the dock, which contains such vast quantities of naval stores; it is evident that the city, being thus secure from any attack, either by land or water, must be, in a manner, impregnable, though it has no fortifications. The fish, which are caught even at the very doors of the houses, may be reputed a good preservative against famine. The several canals leading to the city, among the sand banks, and marshy shallows are, though at a vast expence, kept clear of the mud, and slime the food brings with it. Some of these canals, however, being very narrow, the mud is not so effectually carried off, as to prevent ill smell in hot weather.
PLAN
of the CITY of VENICE
References
1
New Arsenal
2
Old Arsenal
3
The Verges
4
Seminary Ducal
5
Our Lady of the Arsenal
6
The Sepulchre
7
The Piety
8
Greeks Church
9
Commander of the Knights of Malta
10
The little Hospital
11
St . Marks School
12
The Capuchin
13
The Wonders
14
The Jesuits
15
Priory of the Mercy
16
The Mercy
17
Our Ladys of Orto
18
The Magdalen
19
The Reformed
20
Our Lords Body
21
The Charity
22
The Incurables
23
The Holy Ghost
24
St . Gregorys Abbey
25
The Statute
26
The Humility
27
St . Geminian
28
The Redeemer
29
The Brother
30
The Totenin
31
The Grose
32
The Carmelites
33
The An
elo
34
Martha
35
Ducal Church
36
The Begars
37
New Great Arsenal
A
Royal Bridge or Rialto.
This canal, which divides the city into two parts, is one thousand three hundred paces long. The way of going up, and down the city, is in Gondolas; which indeed strike the eye of a stranger, at first sight, with a very gloomy appearance; being all of them lined either with black cloth, or serge, and painted black. They will not carry above four or five persons; and as the awning is so low, that no one can conveniently stand upright in the gondola; when a strangers gets into one of them, it seems as if he was creeping into a herse, or tomb, hung with black. The left side is always accounted the place of honour; because he, who sits on the right, must face the rower, who intercepts the view, and often unavoidably splashes him.
The gondolas glide very swiftly along the canals, and the gondoliers avoid each other with surprizing exactness, and celerity; they make use of the word
Stacando,
or
Stali,
to signify, to those coming another way, to keep on the right hand; and
premando,
or
premi,
as a notice to pass on the left; so that gondolas seldom run each other down.
There is no conveyance in this town, says Lady
Millar,
but by water; out of the door of your lodging, you step into your gondola, instead of your coach. A gondola with two oars, at Venice, is as magnificent, as a coach and six horses, with a large equipage in another country. The motion of them is extremely agreeable; two gondoliers manage one so dexterously, that they will whip round a sharp corner of their watery streets, with more agility than the best coachman in London can take a short turn there. He that governs the helm stands in the most graceful attitude imaginable.
One cannot be an hour, on these canals, without seeing several of the Barcaroles shifting themselves; for it is a custom among them to have always a dry shirt, ready to put on, the moment they have landed their fare; and they would expect to die, if, by any accident, they were under the necessity of suffering a damp shirt to dry on their bodies. On the other hand, it is curious to observe how little they dread damp sheets, throughout Italy; and the people at inns are so little apprized of an objection to damp sheets, that, when desired to hang them before the fire, they request you will feel how wet they are; being prepossessed, that you mean they have not been washed.
Over the several canals are laid four hundred and fifty (some say upwards of five hundred) bridges, great and small, and the better part of them stone; the highest, and longest is the Rialto; which, in the midst of the city, crosses the great canal, at its narrowest part; where it is but forty paces broad. The bridge consists of only one single arch, and a very noble one it is; whose foundation takes up ninety feet, resting on twelve thousand elm piles, and every where incrustated with marble. It is said to have cost the republic two hundred and fifty thousand ducats. In the upper part of it, it is thirty-seven paces broad; with two rows of shops, forming, as it were, three streets, on its upper surface; of which that in the middle is the broadest. At each end, is an ascent of fifty-six steps.
The view from the Rialto is equally lively and magnificent; the objects, immediately under the eye, are the grand canal, covered with boats, and gondolas, and flanked on each side with magnificent palaces, churches, and spires; but this fine prospect, according to
Moore,
is almost the only one in Venice; for, except the grand canal, and the canal Regio, all the others are narrow and mean; some of them have no quays; the water literally washes the walls of the houses. In going along these wretched canals, there is no one agreeable object, to cheer the sight; and the smell, at certain seasons, is overpowered with the stench, that exales from these waters.
The city may indeed be every where traversed on foot; but the streets are very narrow, and the pavement, which is a smooth white stone, is very slippery in wet weather. They are always kept very neat; however, no carriage, not so much as a chaise ever passing through them. The many small bridges, with their steps, are not a little dangerous to cross over, from the slipperiness of the pavement, and their having, in general, no fence on either side.
In allusion to the slipperiness of the pavement, there is a proverb, advising persons, to beware of the four P's, at Venice; namely,
Pietra bianca, Putana, Prete,
and
Pantalone; i. e.
a white stone, a whore, a priest, and the last P may denote either mountebanks and jugglers, or the nobility themselves; that being a nick-name, given them, by the vulgar.
The situation of Venice has been celebrated, in the following lines, by the famous poet
Sannagario;
for each of which, the republic made him a present of one hundred
louis-d'ors.
Viderat Adriacis Venetam Neptunus in undis
Stare urbem, & toti ponere jura mari.
Nunc mihi Tarpeias quantumvis Jupiter arces
Objice, & illa tui Moenia Martis, ait.
Si pelago Tiberim proefers, Urbem aspice utramque,
Illam homines dices, hanc posuisse deos.
Thus badly versified, by
Collier.
'
Neptune
saw Venice on the Adriatic strand,
'And all the sea under her wide command;
'Now
Jove,
said he, thy Roman towers object,
'And those proud walls which
Mars
could not protect;
'Before the sea if Tiber thou prefer,
'Behold both cities thou wilt aver,
'That men built Rome, but gods plac'd Venice there.
The following dialogue was formerly to be seen in St.
Mark
's Church, written in Latin, between a foreigner, and an old man. The former was distinguished by the letter A, which signified
Advena,
and the latter by the letter S, which stood for
senex.
A translation of it, as shewing the vanity of the Venetians, may not perhaps be unacceptable to some of our readers.
"A. Pray old gentleman by whom was the city of Venice founded? S. By
Jupiter.
A. Who contrived its arsenal? S.
Minerva.
A. Who stocked it with ladies of pleasure? S.
Venus.
A. Who built its walls? S.
Neptune.
A. From whom did it derive its coin? S. From
Dido.
A. To whom does it owe its military glory? S. To
Mars.
A. Its commerce? S. To
Mercury.
A. Its laws? S. To
Minerva.
No wonder, therefore, it so far excels other cities, since it owes its origin to so many deities."
The view of Venice, at some little distance from the town, says
Moore,
is mentioned by many travellers, in terms of the highest admiration. I had been so often forwarned of the amazement, with which I should be struck, at first sight of this city, that when I actually did see it, I felt little or no amazement at all. You will behold, said those anticipators, magnificent palaces, churches, towns and steeples, all standing in the middle of the sea. This, continues the above writer, is unquestionably an uncommon scene; and there is no manner of doubt that a town, surrounded by water, is a very fine sight; but all the travellers that have existed, since the days of
Cain,
will not convince me that a town surrounded by land, is not a much finer. Can there be any comparison between the dull monotony of a watry surface, and the delightful variety of gardens, meadows, hills and woods?
If the situation of Venice renders it less agreeable than another city, to behold at a distance, it must render it in a much stronger degree, less agreeable to inhabit. For it should be recollected, that instead of walking, or riding in the fields, and enjoying the fragrance of herbs, and the melody of birds; a person, who wishes to take the air here, must submit to be paddled from morning to night, in a narrow boat, along dirty canals; or, if he does not like this, he has one resource more, which is that of walking in St.
Mark's
place. These are the disadvantages which Venice labours under, with regard to situation.
Venice is said to be built in the sea; that is, it is built in the midst of shallows, which stretch some miles from the shore, at the bottom of the Adriatic gulph. Though these shallows, being now all covered with water, have the appearance of one great lake, yet they are called, in the plural, lakes; because, formerly, as it is imagined, there were several. In sailing on the Lagunae, and looking to the bottom, many large hollows are to be seen; which, at some former period, have, very possibly, been distinct lakes; though now, being all covered with a common surface of water, they form one large lake, of unequal depth. The intervals between these hollows, it is supposed, were little islands, and are now shallows; which, at ebb, are all within reach of a pole.
The lake, in which Venice stands, is a kind of small inner gulph, separated from the large gulph by some islands, at a few miles distance. These islands, in a great measure, break the force of the Adriatic storms, before they reach the Lagunae; yet, in very high winds, the navigation of the lake is dangerous to gondolas; and, sometimes, the gondoliers do not trust themselves even on the canals, within the city. This is not so great an inconvenience, as may be at first imagined; because most of the houses have one door opening upon a canal, and another communicating with the street; by means of which, and the bridges, the inhabitants can go to almost any part of the town, by land as well as by water.
VIEW of VENICE from the PORT FOSSETTA.
The number of inhabitants has been, by some, computed at two hundred thousand, including those in the adjacent islands, and such as live on the water. Others, who do not include the islanders and the mariners, think, that during the carnival, the whole number of people, at Venice, scarce exceeds this number. The principal inhabitants are the nobility,
citadini,
or citizens; after whom may be reckoned the lawyers, notaries, physicians, wealthy merchants, glass-makers, and all handicraftsmen, whether dwelling in the city, or the islands; together with the sea-faring people, and the gondoliers.
Venice, from the fertility of its neighbourhood, and the facility of carriage, enjoys a constant plenty of all kinds of provisions. The spring-water being very indifferent, in most places, almost every house has a cistern; into which the rain-water is conveyed, from the roof, and clarified, being filtrated through sand. Water is also brought from the river Brenta, and preserved in the cisterns.
From this general sketch, we now proceed to a more particular description. Venice is divided into six large parts, called
Sestierie;
of which the three first lie on the east, and north-east side of the great canal; which, as we have before observed, divides the city into two main parts; and three others, on the west, and south side.
The district of St.
Mark
contains the
Piazza di S. Marco;
which is one of the largest, and finest squares in Europe. This is the only spot that one can call
terra firma,
in the whole city. It is surrounded with magnificent buildings; and divided into the lesser, and greater squares. On each side of the large square are, what they call, the
procuraties;
a pile of buildings, like our inns of court, and inhabited by lawyers; underneath which are piazzas, supported by marble pillars; where are coffee-houses and taverns. At one end stands the church of St.
Mark;
and, adjoining to it, is the lesser square; having, on one side, the ducal palace; and the new
procuraties,
on the other. The sea washes the quay of this square; which is built of large hewn stones, with several stairs; where the gondolas land very conveniently. At the end of this lesser square, are erected two lofty pillars of granite, or speckled marble; which are said to have been originally brought from Egypt to Constantinople; and removed from thence to Venice, in the time of the Doge
Sebastiano Zani,
about the year 1192. After they had lain a whole year on the ground, they were erected by
N. Barratier;
who desired no other recompence for his trouble, than that any person might have free liberty to play at any game of chance, between these two pillars; all kinds of gaming being, at that time, prohibited. This request was complied with; but the senate, at the same time, ordered that the execution of criminals should, in future, likewise take place on that spot; and criminals, condemned to suffer death publicly, are still executed between these pillars. On the pillar, that stands next to the ducal palace, is a brass lion, being St.
Mark
's symbol, with its head towards the East, as an emblem of the republic's dominion over several places in the Levant. On the other side stands a marble statue of S.
Theodore;
or, as others will have it, of St.
George;
who holds his shield in the right, instead of the left hand; which either proceeds from the sculptor's mistake; or, perperhaps, it was copied from an intaglio. But the Venetians pretend it was done designedly, to express the justice of the republic; which, say they, aims only at defending itself, without doing any hurt, or injury, to other powers, A noble Venetian would not pass between these two pillars, upon any terms; because, when the Doge
Falieri,
who was beheaded, in 1354, for treason against the state, came to Venice, after his election, he was obliged to land between these two pillars, from the water being remarkably high. On the canal, opposite to these two pillars, a galley, completely rigged and armed, is kept in readiness for any emergency.
At the corner of the new procuratie, a little disance from the church, stands the steeple of St.
Mark.
This is a quadrangular tower, about three hundred feet in height. It is not uncommon in Italy for the church and steeple to be in this state of dis-union. This shocked a clergyman of my acquaintance very much, says
Moore;
he mentioned it to me, among the errors and absurdities of the church of Rome. This gentleman was clearly of opinion that church and steeple ought to be as inseparable as man and wife; and that every church ought to consider its steeple as mortar of its mortar, and stone of its stone. An old captain of a ship, who was present, declared himself of the same way of thinking; and swore, that a church, divorced from its steeple, appeared to him as ridiculous as a ship without a mast.
The ascent, to the top of this tower, is by steps; but so contrived that a person may ride up and down on horse-back; which
Augustus
king of Poland once did, without meeting with any accident. On the top of it is a spire, with an angel sixteen feet high, cut in wood, and gilt. This tower has a gallery, which is quiet open above, and affords a very fine prospect. While the gilding of the spire is bright, it may be seen at sea, upwards of thirty miles. Nay some give out, says
Keysler,
that when the gilding was quite fresh, it could plainly be discerned off
Capo d' Istria,
at the distance of one hundred miles from Venice. What
Sabelli
further says, that the foundation of this tower is laid as deep in the earth, as it is high above the surface of it, may be looked upon as one of those gasconades, not uncommon among the Venetians.
At the bottom of this tower is a small neat building of marble, called the
Loggietta,
where some of the procurators of St.
Mark
constantly attend to do business. Some people are of opinion, that, particularly when the grand council, or the senate, are assembled, these procurators are placed there, as state-centinels, to give warning in case of any appearance of discontent, or commotion, among the populace; which must necessarily shew itself at this place, as there is no other in Venice, where a mob could assemble.
A few paces from the church are three large poles, like the masts of a ship, erected on brass pedestals of curious workmanship; on which ensigns, and flags are hung, on days of public rejoicing. These are in memory of the three kingdoms, Cyprus, Candia, and Negropont, which once belonged to this republic; the three crowns are still kept in the ducal palace. Since the kingdoms are gone, remarks
Moore,
the crowns and the poles seem scarce worth preserving; they are, however, of the same value to Venice, that the title of king of France is to his Britannic Majesty.
The patriarchal church of St.
Mark,
though one of the richest, and most expensive in the world, does not strike the eye very much at first; the architecture is of a mixed kind, mostly gothic, yet many of the pillars are of the Grecian order; the outside is incrusted with marble; the inside, ceiling and floor, are all of the finest marble.
The front, which looks to the palace, has five brass gates, with historical bas-relieves; over the principal gate are placed the four famous bronze horses, said to be the workmanship of
Lycippus;
they were given to the Emperor
Nero
by
Tiridates,
king of Armenia; the fiery spirit of their countenances, and their amimated attitudes, are perfectly agreeable to their original destination of being harnessed to the chariot of the Sun.
Nero
placed them on the triumphal arch consecrated to him, and they are to be seen on the reverse of some of his medals; they were removed from Rome, to Constantinople, placed in the Hippodrome by
Constantine,
and remained there till the taking of Constantinople, by the French and Venetians, in the beginning of the thirteenth century; when they were carried to Venice, and placed in St.
Mark
's church.
The treasury of St.
Mark
is very rich, in jewels and relics; and it is necessary to apply to one of the procurators of St.
Mark,
for permission to see it. I shall only mention, says
Moore,
a few of the most valuable effects kept here. Eight pillars from
Solomon
's temple, at Jerusalem; a piece of the Virgin
Mary
's veil, some of her hair, and a small portion of her milk; the knife used by our Saviour, at his last supper; one of the nails of the cross, and a few drops of his blood. After these, it would be impertinent to enumerate the bones, and other relics of saints and martyrs; of which there is a plentiful show in this church; it would be unpardonable, however, to omit mentioning the picture of the Virgin, by St.
Luke.
From this, compared with his other works, says
Moore,
it is plain, that St.
Luke
was a much better Evangelist, than a painter; there are many very good painters, who would have made very bad saints; and here is an instance of an excellent saint, who was but an indifferent painter.
The mosaic paintings, on the outside of this church, says Mrs.
Piozzi,
which are surpassed by no works of art, delights us no less, on entering, with its numberless rarities. The flooring first catches the eye, being being entirely paved with precious stones, of the second rank, in small squares, not bigger than a playing card, and sometimes less. By the second rank in gems, I mean cornelian, agate, jasper, serpentine and verd-antique; on which we place our feet without remorse; but not without a very odd sensation, when we find the ground undulated beneath them to represent the waves of the sea, and perpetuate marine ideas, which prevail in every thing at Venice.
Of this treasury it was said, during the reign of
Charles
I. of Spain, that there was in it enough to pay six king's ransoms; when
Pachecho,
the Spanish Ambassador hearing so much said of it, asked in derision, if the chest, in which the treasure is contained, had any
bottom?
and, being answered, in the affirmative, he replied, there was this difference, between his master's treasures, and those of the Venetian republic, that the mines of Mexico and Peru, had no bottom.
The church treasury, this lady adds, is old fashioned, but very rich, in gold and jewels. In it is kept a very famous manuscript, of the gospel of St.
Mark,
pretended to be autographical; but the dampness of the place, where it lies, has spoiled it to such a degree, that no part of it is any longer legible; and it is not so much as certain whether it be written in Latin, or Greek. In the pavement of the portico of St.
Marks
is a small morsel of porhyry, frequently kissed by the people, who hold it in the highest veneration; on this piece of marble, the Emperor
Barbarossa
prostrated himself at the Popes feet, in 1175, when his Holiness gave him absolution.
The Venetians have not only dedicated their famous cathedral to St.
Mark;
but he is considered so much the tutelar Saint of this city, that it is frequently called St. Marco, in Italian, instead of Venice. Of this custom of calling Venice St. Marco, Mrs.
Piozzi
relates a pleasant anecdote, which we shall here insert, leaving it, as she does, to our readers to pass over, or not, as they may think proper.
The procurator
Tron,
a noble Venetian, it seems was at Padua, and had a fancy to drive on, that afternoon, to Vicenza; but, being particularly fond of a favourite pair of horses, which drew his chariot that day, would by no means venture if it happened to rain; and took the trouble to enquire of Abbate
Toaldo
a celebrated professor there, "whether he thought such a thing likely to happen from the appearance of the sky? The professor, not knowing why the question was asked, said, he rather thought it would
not
rain within four hours at soonest." In consequence of this information, our senator orders his equipage directly, got into it, and bid the driver make haste to Vicenza; but before he was half way on his journey, such torrents of rain came down from a black cloud, which burst directly over their heads, that his horses were drenched in wet, and their mortified master turned immediately back to Padua, that they might suffer no further inconvenience. To pass away the evening, which he did not mean to have spent there, and to quiet his agitated spirits, by thinking on something else; he walked under the portico, to a neighbouring coffee-house, where sate the Abbate
Toaldo
in company of a few friends; wholly unconscious that he had been the cause of vexing the Procurator; who, after a short pause, cried out, in a true Venetian spirit of anger, and humour odly bleaded together,
"Mi dica Signor Professore Toaldo, chi è il più gran mincion de tutti i santi in Paradiso?" Pray tell me Doctor,
we should say in English,
who is the greatest blockhead of all the Saints in Paradise?
The Abbé looked astonished, but hearing the question repeated in a more peevish accent, gravely replyed,
"Eccellenza non son fatto io per rispondere a tale dimande."—"My Lord, I know not what reply to make to such a question."
"Why then," replies the Procurator, "I will tell you myself. It is St.
Mark,
who is the greatest blockhead, for keeping so many professors to study the stars, when, with all their astronomy, not one of them can tell whether it will rain or no."
The church of the
Redemtore
is a curious instance of the power of art; for though it is not to be ranked among the rich, and expensive churches, abounding neither in gold, or fine marbles, yet the simplicity and elegance of its structure surprized us very much, the moment we entered the door; and convinced us how deservedly
Palladio
is admired, and how possible it is to enjoy the beauty of proportion and design, without having studied the rudiments of the art.
The ducal palace is an immense building, entirely of marble. The front is very magnificent, being beautified with a great number of marble pillars of different orders. Did the other three sides but correspond with the principal front, there would not be a finer building in all Europe. Besides the apartments of the Doge, there are also halls, and chambers for the senate, and all the different councils, and tribunals. The principal entrance is by a spacious stair-case, called the giants stair-case, on account of two colossal statues of
Mars,
and
Neptune,
placed at the top; they are of white marble, and intended to represent the naval and military power of the state. Their gigantic size might be proper enough formerly, but they would be juster emblems of this republic in its present state, if their stature were more moderate.
Under the portico, leading to this stair-case, may be perceived the gaping mouths of lions, to receive anonymous letters, informations of treasonable practices, and accusations of magistrates for abuses in office.
From the palace, is a covered bridge of communication to a state-prison, on the other side of the canal. Prisoners pass to, and from, the courts over this bridge, which is called
Ponte di sospiri,
or
bridge of sighs.
The apartments, and halls of the ducal palace, are ornamented by the pencils of
Titian, Paul Veronese, Tintoret,
and other great painters. The rape of
Europa,
and the storming of
Zara,
both by
Paul Veronese,
are among the highly esteemed pieces of that master. The foot of
Europa
is honoured with the particular admiration of the connoisseurs.
Within the palace, there is a little arsenal, which communicates with the hall of the great council. Here a great number of muskets are kept ready charged, with which the nobles may arm themselves, on any sudden insurrection, or other emergency.
The lower gallery, or the piazza under the palace, is called the
Broglio.
In this the noble Venetians walk and converse; it is only here, and at council, where they have opportunities of meeting together; for they seldom visit openly, or in a family way, at each others houses, and secret meetings would give umbrage to the state-inquisitors; they chuse therefore to transact their business on this public walk. People of inferior rank seldom remain on the
Broglio,
for any length of time, when the nobility are there.
Besides St. Mark's place, there is not another square, or
place,
as the French with more propriety call them, in all Venice. To compensate, however, for there being but one, there is a greater variety of objects to be seen at this one, than in any half-dozen of squares, or places, of London or Paris. This square, observes Lady
Millar,
is particularly agreeable to walk in by night; the lights in the coffee-houses, illuminating the piazza, render it extremely chearful; and the concourse of people, resorting hither, to breathe the cool air, is so considerable as to fill the whole square. The little streets, leading from it, are well furnished with elegant shops; which make the most brilliant appearance, from the curious arrangement of their articles; and appear far exceeding the
coup d'oeil
of the
foire S. Germain
at Paris. The street of the silversmiths makes a splendid shew, there being no other sort of shops in it. That of the milliners and mercers is like a parterre of flowers; the goods of the most glaring colours being ingeniously mixed, in such a manner in the windows, as to produce a striking effect. Other streets consist solely of poulterers, and, some, of green-grocers' shops; these last are decked out in such a manner as discovers surprizing taste in the common people.
In the evening, says
Moore,
there generally is here such a mixture of Jews, Turks, and Christians; lawyers, knaves, and pickpockets; mountebanks, old women, and physicians; women of quality with masks; strumpets barefaced; and, in short, such a jumble of senators, citizens, gondoliers, and people of every character and condition; that our ideas are broken, and disjointed in the croud, in such a manner, that one can think, or reffect on nothing; yet, this being a state of mind which many people are fond of, the place never fails to be well attended; and, in fine weather, numbers pass a great part of the night there. Although such a heterogeneous mixture of people throng the place, both day and night, yet there is no riot or disturbance. The Venetians are so accustomed to see strangers, as not to be the least surprized at their being dressed in a fashion different from themselves; nor inclined to esteem them objects of ridicule, on account of their not speaking the Italian language. As it is the custom for the ladies, as well as the gentlemen, to frequent the cassinos, and coffee-houses, in the place St. Mark, it answers all the purposes of either Vauxhall or Ranelagh.
It is not in St. Mark's place we are to look for the finest monuments of the art of
Titian,
or the genius of
Palladio;
for these it is necessary to visit the churches and palaces; but, not pretending, says
Moore,
to be a competent judge of painting and architecture, I have no new remarks to make on these subjects; and I wish to avoid a hackneyed repetition of what has been said by others. I was, besides, long ago taught a lesson, which will effectually prevent me from every affectation of this kind.
Very early in life, says our author, I resided about a year in Paris; and happened, one day, to accompany five or six of our countrymen, to view the pictures in the Palais Royal. A gentleman, who affected an enthusiastic passion for the fine arts, particularly that of painting, and who had the greatest desire to be thought a connoisseur, was of the party. He had read the lives of the painters, and had the
Voyage Pittoresque de Paris
by heart. From the moment we entered the rooms, he began to display all the refinements of his taste; he instructed us what to admire, and drew us away, with every sign of disgust, when we stopped a moment at an uncelebrated picture. We were afraid of appearing pleased with any thing we saw, till he informed us whether or not it was worth looking at. He shook his head at some, tossed up his nose at others; commended a few, and passed sentence on every piece as he went along, with the most imposing tone of sagacity. "Bad, that
Caravaggio
is too bad indeed, devoid of all grace;—but here's a
Caracci
that makes amends; how charming the grief of that
Magdalen!
The Virgin, you'll observe, gentlemen, is only fainting, but the
Christ
is quite dead. Look at the arm, did you ever see any thing so dead?— Aye, here's a
Madona,
which they tell you is an original
Guido;
but any body may see it is only a tolerable copy.—Pray, gentlemen, observe this
Sebastian,
how delightfully he expires! Don't you all feel the arrow in your hearts? I'm sure I feel it in mine. Do let us move on; I should die with agony, if I looked any longer."
We at length came to St.
John,
by
Raphael;
and here this man of taste stopped short, in an extacy of admiration.—One of the company had already passed it, without minding it, and was looking on another picture; on which the connoisseur bawled out—"Good God, Sir! what are you about?" The honest gentleman started, and stared around, to know what crime he had been guilty of.
"Have you eyes in your head, Sir?" continued the connoisseur? "Don't you know St.
John
when you see him?"
"St.
John!
" replied the other in amazement. "Aye Sir, St.
John
the Baptist,
in propria persona.
"I don't know what you mean, Sir," said the gentleman, peevishly.
"Don't you," rejoined the connoisseur; "Then "I'll endeavour to explain myself. I mean St.
John
in the wilderness, by the divine
Raffaelle Sangio da Urbino;
and there he stands, by your side.—Pray, my dear Sir, will you be so obliging to bestow a little of your attention on that foot? Does it not start from the wall? Is it not perfectly out of the frame? Did you ever see such colouring? They talk of
Titian;
can
Titian
's colouring excel that? What truth, what ntaure in the head! To the elegance of antique, here is joined the simplicity of nature."
We stood listening, in silent admiration, and began to imagine we pecreived all the perfections he enumerated; when a person, in the Duke of
Orlean
's service, came and informed us, that the original, which he presumed was the picture we wished to see, was in another room; the Duke having allowed a painter to copy it.
That,
which we had been looking at, was a very wretched daubing; done from the original, by some obscure painter, and had been thrown, with other rubbish, into a corner; where the Swiss had accidentally discovered it, and had hung it up, merely by way of covering the vacant place on the wall, till the other should be re-placed.
How the connoisseur looked, on this trying occasion, I cannot say. It would have been barbarous to have turned an eye upon him.—I stepped into the next room, fully determined to be cautious in deciding on the merit of painting.
Over against the ducal palace stands the public library of the republic. The poet
Petrarch
first begun this collection, by giving his library to the state; upon condition that a decent edifice should be built, for its reception, at the public expence. After him, Cardinal
Bassarion
added his curious collection of Greek manuscripts. Several other considerable additions have since been made to this library.
The paintings by
Titian,
and several other celebrated masters, together with several antiquities, and Greek and marble statue, which are to be seen here, merit particular notice. Among the latter, the most striking is the rape of
Ganymede,
by
Jupiter,
in the shape of an eagle; which some take to be the work of
Phidias.
A
Venus
and
Apollo,
two gladiators,
Leda, Paris,
and several busts of the Roman emperors, are also exquisitely done. On each side, of the principal entrance, instead of a pillar, is a marble statue of a female; and these statues support the ornaments above.
The arsenal at Venice is a fortification, of between two and three miles in compass. On the ramparts are many little watch-towers, where centinels are stationed. Like the arsenal at Toulon, it is at once a dock-yard, and a repository for military stores. Here the Venetians build their ships, cast their cannon, make their cables, sails, anchors, &c. The arms are arranged here, as in other places of the same kind, in large rooms, divided into narrow walks, by long walls of muskets, pikes, and halberts.
In one of the docks is kept the Bucentaur, or vessel the Doge is carried in, to espouse the Adriatic. This vessel is kept under cover, and never taken out, but for the espousals. It is formed for containing a very numerous company, is finely gilt and ornamented within; and loaded, on the outside, with emblematical figures in sculpture. This vessel may, possibly, be admired by landsmen, but will not much charm a seaman's eye; being a heavy broad-bottomed machine, which draws little water; and, consequently, may be easily overset in a gale of wind. Of this, however, there is no great danger, as two precautions are taken to prevent such an accident; one of which seems calculated to quiet the minds of believers; and the other to give confidence to the most credulous. The first is used by the Patriarch; who, as soon as the vessel is afloat, takes care to pour into the sea some holy-water, which is believed to have the virtue of preventing, or allaying storms. The second is entrusted to the admiral; who has the discretionary power of postponing the marriage-ceremony, when the bride seems in the smallest degree boisterous. One of the virtues of the holy-water, that of allaying storms, is, by this means, rendered superfluous.
But, when the weather is quite favourable, the ceremony is performed every Ascension-day. The solemnity is announced in the morning, by the ringing of bells, and firing of cannon. About mid-day the Doge, attended by a numerous party of the senate and clergy, goes on board the Bucentaur; the vessel is rowed a little way into the sea, accompanied by the splendid yachts of the foreign ambassadors, the gondolas of the Venetian nobility, and an incredible number of barks and gallies of every kind. Hymns are sung, and a band of music performs, while the Bucentaur, and her attendants, slowly move towards St. Lido, a small island, two miles from Venice. Prayers are then said; after which the Doge drops a ring, of no great value, into the sea, pronouncing these words —
Desponsamus te, mare, in signum veri perpetuique dominii.
He then returns, in the same state, inviting those who accompany him in the galley to dinner.
This vessel, remarks Mr.
Piozzi,
is called the identical one, in which Pope
Alexander
performed the original ceremony, so far back as the year 1171; and though, perhaps, not a whole plank, of that old galley, can be now remaining in this, so often careened, repaired, and adorned, since that time. I see nothing ridiculous, she adds, in declaring that it is the same ship; any more than in saying that the oak, planted an acorn, thirty years ago, is the same tree I saw spring up then a little twig, which not even a moderate sceptic will deny; though he takes so much pains to persuade plain folks out of their own existence, by laughing us out of the dull notion, that he, who dies a withered old fellow at fourscore, should ever be considered as the same person, whom his mother brought forth, a pretty little plump baby, eight years before.
It would be endless to describe the great number of palaces in this city; but we may, in general, observe that, with respect to architecture, those built by
Palladio,
and other celebrated architects, are in a stile quite different from the Roman, or the Florentine; both in the ornaments on the front, and the disposition of the apartments within. The windows are, generally, four squares in height, arched at the top, and reaching quite to the floor; with balconies before them, through the lower part of the window; all the parts of which are made to open, from bottom to top, for letting in the air in hot weather. The middle of the front is, almost, entirely composed of windows, for enlightening a long portico, or gallery, that passes through the house, in every story; and out of this gallery is the entrance into the apartments, on each hand. The most magnificent are, generally, up two pair of stairs; they have, sometimes, a story of high apartments, and another of, what they call, mezzanine, or low ones, alternate; the former for state, the latter for the use of the family.
The floors, are, generally, of a red plaister; composed of pulverized marble and bricks, mixed with oil; it makes a beautiful appearance, and is very lasting. The chambers of the grand floor are seldom used for any other purpose, than as lumber-rooms. Sometimes, indeed, they are decorated with statues; or with arms and trophies, where the master of the house has been a military man; and, in some, the chambers are full of inscriptions, antique marbles, and other curiosities of the like kind.
The roofs of the houses, in Venice, are flat, and covered with tiles.
Venice, with a few alterations, remarks
Sharpe,
would be much more magnificent than it is at present: The windows, instead of sashes, are still, as in other parts of Italy, made of small panes of glass, enclosed in lead; and, what has a still meaner appearance, covered with iron grates, resembling those in prisons. The shutters of their houses are plain deal boards, tacked together, without the least form or decoration, and not painted, as in England; so that when a palace is shut up, it has very much the resemblance of a bridewell, or an hospital for lunatics. They likewise lay on the roofs of their houses such heavy, clumsy tiles, as to offend the eye very much. House-rent is remarkably cheap, for so large, and commercial a city; a house of seventy pounds a year, being equal to one of two hundred a year in other capitals.
The palaces are, in general, furnished with velvet and damask, fringed, or laced with gold. The doors, skirting-boards, and wainscotting, are painted in a most elegant manner; with pale tints for the ground, and prettily ornamented with curious devices, festoons, fruits, &c. They also paint in fresco, on the walls, with much facility and taste. This is to be met with in the poorest houses; and, where they do not go to the expence of painting the walls, their white-wash is of uncommon neatness: it is glossy, of a soft colour, and never comes off.
There are some good pictures in the palaces, but not such capital collections as are to be seen at Rome, and Genoa. The Venetians, remarks Lady
Millar,
cover the walls of their palaces with pictures, and never think those apartments properly furnished, until they have such as fill all the spaces from top to bottom, so is completely to hide the hanging. This being their object, there are in all the collections many more bad pictures than good; and on entering a room, the number of paintings is so great, that it is not till after some recollection one can discriminate those pictures, that merit attention, from amongst a chaos of glowing colours that surround them; and which are frequently so ill classed, that a picture which requires to be hung high, is, perhaps, the lowest in the room; whilst another that cannot be seen too close, perhaps, touches the cornice.
Keysler
mentions the palace
Grimaldi,
as one of the most elegant for its architecture, furniture, and curiosities, both modern and antique. In the palace
Barberigo
is a weeping
Magdalen,
by
Titian;
for which the King of France is said to have offered forty thousand crowns. This celebrated painter was descended from a noble family, though in mean circumstances, and was born at Cadore, on the banks of the river Piave, in 1477 and died at Venice of the plague, in the year 1576 and the ninety-ninth of his age.
One of the singularities of this singular city, says
Martyn,
is its
conservatories,
or musical schools for instructing young women in music: of these there are four; and, at each of them, they perform oratorios, and other pieces of sacred music, every Saturday, and and Sunday evening; and on other festivals, in their convents. Indeed such is, and such has been, the rage for music throughout Italy, that improvements, in this science, have been equally encouraged by the several states, as improvements in policy or arts. Early as the 13th century,
Guido Aretinus,
a Benedictine Monk, having reformed the scale of music, and invented a new method of notation, was invited, by Pope
John,
XX. to Rome; his improvements were patronized, and the Pope became his disciple.
I was present, says Lady
Millar,
in the church, when there was some very good music, both vocal and instrumental; performed by the women of one of these charities. The gallery, having a lattice before it, we could not distinguish the performers; I therefore begged to be permitted to go into it, and see, as well as hear, the concert: my request was granted; but when I entered, my eyes were struck with the sight of a dozen, or fourteen beldams, ugly and old; one blowing a french-horn; another sweating at the bass-viol; another playing first fiddle, and beating time with her foot, in the greatest rage; others performing on bassoons, hautboys, and clarinets; these, with several young girls who formed the choir, and one who played upon the organ, composed the concert; but, such a concert as I shall never forget.
About a mile from Venice, in the island of Murano, are the great manufactories of looking-glasses. I saw one very fine plate for a mirror, says
Moore,
made in the presence of the archduke, in a few minutes. Though not so large as some of the Paris manufactory, yet it was much larger than I could have thought it in the power of human lungs to blow. Instead of being cast, as in France and England, the Murano mirrors are all blown in the manner of bottles. It is astonishing to see with what dexterity the the workman wields a long hollow cylinder of melted glass at the end of an iron tube; which, when he has extended as much as possible, by blowing, and every other means his art suggests, he slits with a sharp instrument; removing the two extremities from each other, and folding back the sides: the cylinder now appears a large sheet of glass; which, being once more introduced into the furnace, is brought out a clear finished plate.
This manufactory formerly served all Europe with looking-glasses; the quantity made here is still considerable; for although France and England, and some other countries, which still get their mirrors from Venice, use a much greater quantity now, than formerly; so that, on the supposition that the Murano manufacturers have lost three-fourths of their customers, they may still retain half as much trade as ever they had.
It is surprizing that, instead of blowing, they do not adopt the method of casting; which is a much easier process, and, by which larger plates may be made. Besides mirrors, an infinite quantity of glass trinkets, (
Margaritini,
as they are called) of all shapes and colours, are made here. Women, of the inferior ranks, wear them as ornaments, and rosaries; they also mould this substance into many various, whimsical forms, by way of ornamental furniture to houses and churches. In short, there are glass baubles enough made here, to bribe into slavery half the inhabitants of the coast of Guinea.
CHAP. III.
Of the other Cities in Venetian Lombardy.
PADUA, next in fame to Venice, may be compared to the second-rate cities in France, or England. Its streets are lined with two rows of piazzas, besides several canals of clear running water, admirably contrived for the convenience of manufacturers. Its situation is delightful; yet it is so badly peopled, that, deprived of its monasteries, prebends, seminary, and what few scholars its university still draws thither, scarce a soul would be left. The Paduans boast that the republic of Venice owes its origin, and rise, to their city; but it is now some centuries since Padua has been brought under the Venetian yoke; which has occasioned it to decline so much, from its former splendor, that at present, it scarce contains forty thousand inhabitants.
The principal objects of curiosity in this city are, the churches of St.
Antonio,
and St.
Giustina; Il Salone;
the buildings of the university, by
Palladio;
the botanic and economical gardens; and the Museum.
The church of St. Antonio, is a large Gothic building, begun in 1255, and finished, in 1307; it has six domes, or cupolas, of which the two largest compose the nave. It is extremely rich, and so much ornamented, as to appear crowded with painting and sculpture. There are four immense organs in it; and, even on common days, forty performers are employed in the service.
The body of the Saint, is inclosed in a sarcophagus, under an altar in the middle of the chapel, and is said to emit a very agreeable and refreshing smell. Pious catholics believe this to be the natural effluvia of the saint's body; while heretics assert that the perfume (for a perfume there certainly is) proceeds from certain balsams rubbed on the marble every morning, before the votaries come to pay their devotions.
The walls of this church are covered with votive offerings of ears, eyes, arms, legs, noses, and every part almost of the human body; in token of cures performed by this saint; for whatever part has been the seat of the disease, a representation of it is hung up in silver, or gold, according to the gratitude and wealth of the patient.
At a small distance from this church, is a place called the school of St.
Antonio.
Here many of his actions are painted in fresco; some of them by
Titian.
Many miracles, of a very extraordinary nature, are here recorded. There is one in particular, which, if often repeated, might endanger the peace of families. The saint thought proper to loosen the tongue of a new-born infant, and endue it with the faculty of speech; on which the child, with an imprudence natural to his age, declared, in an audible voice, before a large company, who was his
real
father. The miracles attributed to this celebrated saint, greatly exceed in number, those recorded by the Evangelists of our Saviour; and, although it is not asserted that St.
Antonio
has not raised himself from the dead, his admirers here record things of him, which are almost equivalent. When an impious Turk had secretly placed fire-works under the chapel, with an intention to blow it up, they affirm that St.
Antonio
hollowed three times from his marble coffin, which terrified the infidel, and discovered the plot. The miracle is the more miraculous, as the saint's tongue was cut out, and is actually preserved in a crystal vessel, and shewn as a precious relic to all who have a curiosity to see it. This difficulty was stated as seeming to bear a little against the authority of the miracle; and the ingenious person, to whom the objection was made, seemed at first somewhat nonplussed; but, after recollecting himself, observed that this which seemed an objection, was really a confirmation of the fact; for the saint was not said to have spoken, but only to have hollowed, which a man can do without a tongue; but if his tongue had not been out, added he, there is no reason to doubt but that the saint would have revealed the Turkish plot in plain, articulate language.
In this Church is a monument of the famous Cardinal
Bembo,
who was a man of great learning, and wrote very pure, classic Latin; it is said he was so proud of his elegant, Latin stile, that he would often say, he would not exchange it for the duchy of Mantua. He is charged with having dissuaded a friend from reading St.
Paul
's epistles, and with never looking into the Bible, or breviary, for fear of corrupting the purity of his Latin stile.
The next Church, in point of rank, but far superior in architecture, is that of St.
Justina,
built from a design of
Palladio,
and reckoned by many persons one of the most elegant he ever gave; St.
Justina
is said to have suffered martyrdom, where the church was built, which was the reason of erecting it on that spot. It would have been fortunate for the pictures in this church, if the saint had suffered on a piece of dryer ground; for they seem considerably injured by the damps, which surround the place where it now stands. There is a wide area, in the front of the church, called the
Prato della valle;
where booths, and shops, are erected for all kinds of merchandize, during the fairs. Part of this, which is never allowed to be profaned by the buyers and sellers, is called
Campo santo;
because a great number of Christian martyrs is said to have been put to death there.
St.
Justina
's church is adorned with many altars, embellished with sculpture. The pavement is remarkably rich, being a kind of mosaic work of marble, of various colours. Many other precious materials are wrought as ornaments to this church; but there is one species of jewels, in which it abounds, more than, perhaps, any church in christendom; which is the bones of martyrs. They have here a whole well full, belonging to those who were executed in the
Prato della valle;
and what is of still greater value, the Benedictines, to whom this church belongs, assert, that they are also in possession of the bodies of the two Evangelists, St.
Matthew,
and St.
Luke.
The Franciscans, belonging to a convent at Venice, dispute the second of those two great prizes; and declare that they are possessed of the true body of St.
Luke.
The matter was referred to the Pope, who gave a decision in favour of one of the bodies; but this does not prevent the proprietors of the other from still persisting in their original claim; so that there is no likelihood of the dispute being finally determined, till the day of judgment.
The hall of the town-house, in Padua; it is about three hundred English feet long, by one hundred in breadth. Westminster-hall, which, like this, is said to be the largest room, unsupported by pillars in Europe, is only two hundred and seventy feet in length, and seventy-four in breadth. This immense hall is on the second floor, and ornamented with the busts, and statues, of some eminent persons. The cenotaph of
Livy,
the historian, who was a native of Padua, was erected here.
In this hall is to be seen a stone, superscribed with the following words:
Lapis vituperii & cessionis bonorum.
"The stone of ignominy, and bankruptcy".
Such as become bankrupt, and are unable to pay their debts, by sitting publickly three times, with their bare posteriors on this stone, and swearing that it is not in their power to discharge their debts, are cleared from any further prosecution from their creditors.
The university, formerly so celebrated, is now like every thing else in this city, on the decline; the theatre for anatomy could contain five or six hundred students; but the voice of the professor is like that of him who crieth in the wilderness. The licentious spirit of the students, which formerly was carried such unwarrantable lengths, and made it dangerous to walk in the streets of this city at night, is now entirely extinct; it has gradually declined with the number of the students. Whether the ardour for literature, for which the students of this university were distinguished, has abated in the same proportion, we do not pretend to determine; but by far the greater number of young men, who now attend the university, are designed for the priesthood, and apply to the study of divinity as a science, for comprehending and preaching the mysterious parts of which, a very small portion of learning has been observed to succeed, better than a great deal.
There is a cloth-manufactory in this city, and it is said that the inhabitants of Venice, not excepting the nobles, wear no other cloth than what is made here. This particular manufactory, it therefore may be supposed, succeeds very well; but the excessive number of beggars, with which this place swarms, is a strong proof that trade and manufactures, in general, are by no means in a flourishing condition.
The air of Padua is reckoned very healthful. However few cities have so many apothecaries, in proportion to the number of inhabitants; but it must be observed, that most of these venders of medicines are also confectioners. Great quantities of vipers are collected here; some of which are kept alive for various uses, and others dried and made into powder, which is supposed to be of great efficacy in medicine. They feed the fowls, says
Keysler,
with vipers, and meal at Naples; where they are also administered to patients, as well as the broth made of these animals. The best way of feeding fowls, is to cram them with a paste made with viper powder, and barley meal, and then to give them milk to drink. Of these fowls the Neapolitans makes a jelly, and give it to consumptive patients, and order them to continue drinking it for some weeks. This puts me in mind, adds the above writer, of Sir
Kenelm Digby,
an English virtuoso, who used to feast his wife, who was a very beautiful lady, with capons, fattened with vipers flesh; but he did not long enjoy his pampered idol, for she died very young.
The territory of Padua is very subject to storms; particularly those which come from the sea, and which are extremely violent.
For the honour of the muses, and the edification of the students, it seems the
Donne libere,
or
Donne dèl mondo,
as they are called, are publickly tolerated at Padua. These ladies have their respective dwellings appointed them, where they live together, six or eight in a class, and offer themselves to the service of the public. That so commendable an institution may not be liable to any objection, it is the peculiar office of several physicians, frequently, and strictly to examine these nymphs, that no bad consequences may happen to those who converse with them. Of these public temples of
Venus,
there are two in the city of Padua; and, what seems something out of character, one joins to a convent of monks, and the other to a nunnery.
The Jews have also their particular quarter allotted to them, at Padua, out of which they are not permitted to stir.
Vicenza, about 18 miles distant from the above city, is charmingly situated, between two mountains, on a large plain: though but four miles round, it contains between thirty and forty thousand inhabitants. The territory belonging to this city, on account of its fertility, is generally called the garden, and shambles, of Venice. This city is the native place of
Palladio;
and the best works, of this celebrated architect constitute the chief ornament of the city. Though this city is of no very great extent, it is supposed there are in it above 60 churches, convents and hospitals.
The
Teatro Olympico
is one of the finest specimens of modern architecture: it was begun early in 1588, the very year that
Palladio
died. The house, in which the architect lived, was built by himself; and is no less modest than elegant. In the environs of this city may be seen the Marquis of
Capra
's famous rotunda, copied by the Earl of
Burlington,
at Chiswick; and which was built by
Palladio.
He was accessary to the ruin of many great families at Vicenza, by drawing them into a taste for architecture. It is asserted there, that it was done from a motive of revenge, for having imprisoned his son; who was an extravagant spend thrift, during the father's absence from Vicenza; who, on his return, gave them plans, and false estimates, to induce them to begin, upon what he knew they could never finish.
The piazza, or great square of this city, makes a very noble appearance; being filled with elegant, and beautiful buildings, by this great architect.
There is in this city an academy, or literary society, stiled the
Olympici;
whose design is chiefly the improvement of the Italian language. The academicians hold their meetings in the
Teatro Olympico;
which is seldom used as a theatre. The perspective of the stage, in this theatre, is admirable; and is decorated with statues of the Roman emperors, and philosophers. The
parterre,
or pit, is likewise adorned with several statues; and the seats are disposed after the manner of the ancient amphitheatres.
In the
campus martius,
without the city, is a triumphal arch, built from a design of the above-mentioned
Palladio,
in imitation of the ancient structures of that kind.
The finest garden at Vicenza is that of the Count
Valmanara;
which, for its situation, hedges, vistas, arbours, and beautiful walks, may be reckoned one of the noblest in Italy. A covered walk of cedar and orange trees, placed alternately, and above 200 paces in length, is particularly admired. On one side of it is a broad canal, well stocked with fish; which, at the the sound of a pipe, immediately appear in great numbers, on the surface, in order to be fed. Over the entrance into the garden is the following singular inscription, in Latin.
"If corrodoing cares have haply followed thee thus far, though they be loth to leave thee, dispel and banish them away. This place is more peculiarly dedicated to genial mirth and festivity. Whoever shall damage these cedars, or crop a flower, let him be accounted as a sacrilegious person, and be punished; to appease
Vertumnus
and
Pomona,
to whom they are consecrated.
"Native, friend, or stranger, who desirest to amuse thyself with the rural charms of this place, thou mayest securely enter these gardens, designed for pleasure and recreation. Here is no fierce dog, no frightful dragon, no deity with his threatening weapon; but every thing is here freely, and without danger, exposed to thy view. Such is the pleasure of Count
Leonardo Valmanara,
owner of the gardens, who relies on thy modesty and good breeding, as sufficient to protect the place from any outrage."
This country produces great plenty of excellent wine; particularly celebrated for its lenient qualities, in fits of the gout.
The inhabitants of Vicenza are charged with being of a more vindictive temper, than the rest of the Italians; on which account they are commonly called
Gli Assassini Vicentini,
or, Vicentian assassins. This is certain, that travellers, and especially the Germans, who have the character of being hot and quarrelsome, should be very careful, in every part of Italy, to avoid disputes; and especially with postillions, and persons of the lower class; for the desire of revenge, in them, is so predominant, that they have been known to follow a traveller six or seven stages, to watch an opportunity of gratifying this passion.
Murder is looked upon in Italy in a very different light, to what it is in other countries. If a robbery has been committed, in any of the towns of Italy, and the populace is alarmed to stop the thief, there is always assistance at hand to pursue the criminal; but, on crying after a murderer, no person offers to stir; and the assassin saves himself by flying, unmolested, to a church or convent; where, to the great disgrace of the clergy, the villain receives all possible assistance, that he may escape the hands of the civil power.
The meanest citizen of Vicenza, in signing contracts, or other deeds, adds to his name the title of
Comte Vicentino,
or, Count of Vicenza; an empty piece of pride, which they derive from an answer, as is pretended, given by
Charles
V. who, when he was at Vicenza, to get rid of the importunate solicitations of several of the rich citizens, to be made
Counts,
said, in jest,
Todos Contes;
"I make you all counts."
Verona has been celebrated in the following distich:
Urbibus Italioe proestat Verona superbis
Aedibus, ingeniis, flumine, fonte, lacu.
"Verona surpasses all the cities of Italy for superb buildings, the genius of its inhabitants, its rivers, its fountain, and its lake.
However, as to beauty, it will not bear a comparison with many of the large cities, in the southern parts of Italy. Most of the streets of Verona are narrow, winding, and dirty; and the houses meanly built. The river Adige divides Verona into almost two equal parts; joined together by four stone-bridges. The number of inhabitants is, at present, computed to be under 50,000; whereas, a century ago, they exceeded 70,000. The best street in the city is
Il Curso;
where the carnival amusements conclude, with foot-races.
In the town-house the statues of six celebrated persons, who were natives of Verona, are erected. These are the poets
Catullus, Aemilius, Aemilius Marcus, Cornelius Nepos, Pliny
the elder, and the architect
Vitrutruvius,
who lived in the reign of
Augustus.
The chief magistrates, by whom the Venetians govern this province, are the
Podesta
and the General. All civil affairs are under the direction of the former; and the latter has the care of the military. Both these continue in office no longer than 16 months.
Among the private buildings in this city, the palace of Count
Maffei
is the most splendid and magnificent. The great glory of Verona is in its ancient amphitheatre; the arena and inside of which are perfect. It has 46 rows of seats; and is calculated to hold near 24,000 people. When the Emperor was at Verona, there were no less than 40,000 people crouded into it.
This celebrated amphitheatre, through a succession of so many centuries, has, by the commendable care, and attention of the inhabitants, been kept in such good repair, that, in this respect, it is far preferable to, though not so large as,
Vespasian
's theatre at Rome.
Near the amphitheatre is a museum, or, collection of rarities and antiques; some of which are very curious, and merit a particular examination. In this building is a kind of public room, for conversation and cards; where the people of fashion, in Verona, meet every evening. There is scarcely a small town in Italy, that has not something of this kind. Were a plan of this sort adopted in some of the country towns in England, it might be productive of more society, and rational amusement, than continually dining about, with country neighbours, and receiving visitors, some of whom are not very agreeable.
The chief commodities, that the Veronese trade in, are physical plants, oil, wine, with manufactures of linen, silk, and woollen. The goodness of the Verona wine is mentioned by
Pliny, Virgil,
and
Cassiodorus.
The wines here have something of the flavour of the old Hungarian wines.
The Veronese women are well shaped, and of a fresh complection; for which they are unquestionably obliged to the goodness of the air. The neighbouring mountains constantly refresh this city, during the heats of summer, with a cool evening breeze. And though the orange-trees are not exposed here, in winter, to the open air; yet the climate produces all kinds of fruits, and vegetables, in perfection.
Here are some magnificent gardens, belonging to a Signior
Gazzuola.
The owner was formerly a counsellor, but procured the title of Count; and as
Gazuola,
in Italian, signifies a magpye, that bird is his coat of arms; with this motto,
Loquendo, i. e.
by speaking. These delighful gardens he owes to his skill in his profession. The former owner, who, it seems, had many law-suits on his hands, employed
Gazzuola
so long to plead for him, that he had no other way of satifying his demands, but by making over the house and gardens to him. As soon as
Gazzuola
had taken possession, he took down the arms of the former count, and put up his own, with the motto,
loquendo,
inscribed under them; which, contrary to his intention, is interpreted as the means by which he acquired this property.
Lawyers, from time immemorial, have been looked upon in a very disadvantageous light. Even in
Augustus
's time they were become very contemptible at Rome; for they had departed from the dignity of their profession, and enriched themselves, by chicanery and mal-practices; and the Emperor was, at last, obliged to diminish their number, and put a check to their avarice. In the time of
Lewis,
Emperor of Germany, it was sound necessary to publish a solemn edict, to put a stop to their abuses. However, no people, perhaps, ever shewed a greater detestation for lawyers, than the ancient Germans.
Lucius Florus
relates, that no defeat was ever more bloody than that of
Varius;
nothing more savage than the insults of the barbarians; especially towards the pleaders of causes. Of some they plucked out the eyes, and cut off the hands of others; they sewed up the mouth of one of them, having first torn out his tongue; which a barbarian holding up in his hand, sarcastically said, "Now cease to hiss, viper."
The two other cities, that remain to be spoken of, in Venetian Lombardy, are Brescia and Bergamo.
Brescia, the capital of a province of the same name, is a handsome, large, and populous city, on the river Garza. The number of inhabitants are said to be 100,000; the figure of it is almost square; with the castle at one corner. This city is remarkable for its iron-works; and the fire-arms, that are made here, are famous through all Italy. The theatre is splendid; the boxes much ornamented with glasses, paintings, front-cloth of velvet, or silk fringed; the seats in the pit are roomy; every row of this, and of the boxes, is numbered.
The environs of this city, though not naturally fertile, have been converted into a garden, by force of industry, a judicious choice of manure, and the skilful distribution of water, The people, of this city and province, are treated better by the Venetians, than the rest of their subjects; for, having been formerly part of the Milanese territory, and being a frontier province, if oppressed, they might think of returning to their old masters.
Bergamo, the capital of another fertile and populous province, the inhabitants of which are very industrious, is situated on a mountain, overlooking a plain, covered with trees, as far as the eye can reach. As you approach it, the appearance of the suburbs, with the city rising above, and the mountain crowned with the citadel, is very fine. It is not near so populous as Brescia; many of the inhabitants quitting the town to seek a livelihood at Milan, Genoa, and other places. Bergamo is the native country of
Harlequin;
and the people have a sort of humorous repartee, and an arch manner which, with their peculiar jargon, gives them an air different from that of other Italians. The inhabitants are, many of them, troubled with large wens, or swellings in their throats, occasioned, as it said, by their drinking snow-water.
The plain of Bergamo is divided into three parts, by the river; and that part which lies between the Bremba and the Adda, called the Isola, is not naturally so fertile as the other two; but the produce is much more considerable. It has twelve communities, or parishes, that vie with each other, in carrying cultivation to its utmost extent. They do every thing with the spade, and reckon four acres a maintenance for five persons; the whole exhibits a sight more truly pleasing, than all the pompous pageantry of churches and palaces.
These two latter cities are supposed, each, to contain 14, or 15,000 inhabitants.
CHAP. IV.
Character, Customs, Manners, and Dress.
WERE I, says
Moore,
to form an idea of the character of the Venetians, from what I have seen, I should paint them as a lively, ingenious people, extravagantly fond of public amusements, with an uncommon relish for humour; and yet more attached to the real enjoyments of life, than to those which depend on ostentation, and proceed from vanity.
The common people of Venice display some qualities, very rarely to be found in that sphere of life; being remarkably sober, obliging to strangers, and gentle in their intercourse with each other.
The poor people live very well in the city of Venice, which may be, in a great measure, ascribed to their ignorance of gin, and brandy. They love gaming, and are consequently often needy; but government connives at it, and is rather pleased to have them so. As for those who by sickness, or other accidents, are reduced to poverty, there is an abundance of charitable foundations; however, the swarms of beggars are surprizingly great. The trade of begging, in all catholic countries, will necessarily prosper so long as that species of charity, which is bestowed on beggars; continues to be inculcated by their preachers and confessors, as the most perfect of all moral duties.
The Venetians, in general, are tall and well made. Though equally robust, they are not so corpulent as the Germans. The latter also are of fair complexion, with light grey, or blue, eyes; but the Venetians are, for the most part, of a ruddy brown colour, with dark eyes. The women are of a fine stile of countenance, with expressive features, and a skin of a rich carnation. They dress their hair in a fanciful manner, which becomes them very much. They are of an easy address, and have no aversion to cultivate an acquaintance with those strangers, who are presented to them by their relations, or come properly recommended.
Though the Venetian government is still under the influence of jealousy, that gloomy daemon is now entirely banished from the bosom of individuals. Instead of the confinement in which women were formerly kept at Venice, they now enjoy a degree of freedom unknown even at Paris.
The husbands seem at least convinced, that the chastity of their wives is safest under their own guardianship; and that when a women thinks her honour unworthy her own regard, it is still more unworthy of his. This advantage, at least, must arise from the present system, that when a husband believes his wife has adhered to her conjugal vow, he has the additional satisfaction of knowing she acts from a love to him, or from some honourable motive; whereas, formerly, a Venetian husband might think himself obliged to bars, and bolts, for his wife's chastity.
Could any man imagine that a woman, when chastity was preserved by such means, was more respectable than a prostitute? The old plan of bolts and bars, without even securing its object, must have had strong tendency to debase the minds of both husband and wife; for what man, whose mind was not perfectly abject, could have pleasure in the society of a wife, who languished to be in the arms of another? Of all the humble employments that ever the wretched sons of
Adam
submitted to, that of watching a wife, from morning to night, and all night too, is the most perfectly humiliating. Such ungenerous distrust must also have had the wont effect on the minds of the women, and made them view their gaolers with disgust, and horror; and we ought not to be surprized if some preferred the common gondoliers of the lakes, and the vagrants of the streets, to such husbands.
Along with jealousy,
poison,
and the
stiletto
have been banished from Venetian gallantry, and the innocent mask substituted in their places. According to the best information I have received, says
Moore,
this same mask is a much more innocent matter than is generally imagined. In general, it is not intended to conceal the person who wears it; but only used as an apology for his not being in full dress. With a mask stuck in the hat, and a kind of black mantle, trimmed with lace of the same colour, over the shoulders, a man is sufficiently dressed for any assembly at Venice.
Those, who walk the streets, or go to the play-houses, with masks actually covering their faces, are either engaged in some love-intrigue, or would have the spectators think so; for this is a piece of affectation which prevails here, as well as elsewhere; and those
refined
gentlemen, who are fond of the reputation, though they shrink from the catastrophe of an intrigue, are no uncommon characters here. I believe this the more readily, adds
Moore,
because I daily see many feeble gentlemen tottering, about in masks, for whom a bason of warm restorative soup seems more expedient, than the most beautiful woman in Venice.
One evening, at St. Mark's place, when a gentleman of my acquaintance was letting me into the secret of this curious piece of affectation he desired me to take notice of a Venetian nobleman of his acquaintance; who, with an air of mystery, was conducting a female-mask into his
Cassino.
My acquaintance knew him perfectly well, and assured me he was the most innocent creature with women, he had ever been acquainted with; when this gallant person perceived we were looking at him, his mask fell to the ground, as if by accident; and, after we had got a complete view of his countenance, he put it on with much hurry, and immediately rushed, with his partner, into the
Cassino.
The
Cassinos
are small houses of one, or two rooms on a floor, neatly fitted up, says Lady
Millar,
but never fine; those I saw, she adds, were papered with India paper, and furnished with chintz. It is the fashion here, for every person of distinction to have one
Cassino,
at least, and very frequently more: they have little pleasure in inhabiting their palaces, which are really uncomfortable; and by the situation, and dimensions, rendered extremely melancholy. A silent and solitary magnificence reigns throughout; interrupted only by the hoarse washing of the sea, against the walls; which cannot be very exhilarating to the spirits. It was therefore, most probably, in search of chearfulness, recreation, and society, that
Cassinos
were originally resorted to; the greater part of them are situated behind St. Mark's place. Here small
Cotteries
meet, play cards, generally sup together, on some trifle, procured from the pastry-cooks, and coffee-houses; and often pass the night in conversation, music, or in walking about the place of St. Mark.
These places, says
Moore,
have the misfortune to labour under a very bad reputation; they are accused of being temples entirely consecrated to lawless love; and a thousand scandalous tales are told to strangers concerning them; tales, not believed indeed, by the Venetians themselves; the proof of which is, that the
Cassinos
are allowed to exist; for it is absurd to imagine that men would suffer their wives to enter such places, if they were not convinced that those stories were ill founded; nor can we believe, after all we have heard of the profligacy of Venetian manners, that women, even of indifferent reputations, would attend
Cassinos
in the open manner they do, if it were understood that more liberties were taken with them, there, than elsewhere.
The opening, before St.
Mark
's church, is the only place in Venice, where a great number of people can assemble. It is the fashion to walk here a great part of the evening, to enjoy the music, and other amusements; and although there are coffee-houses, and Venetian manners permit ladies, as well as gentlemen, to frequent them; yet it was natural for the noble, and most wealthy, to prefer little apartments of their own; where, without being exposed to intrusion, they may entertain a few friends, in a more easy and unceremonious manner, than they could do at their palaces. Instead of going home to a formal supper, and returning afterwards to this place of amusement, they order coffee, lemonade, fruit, and other refreshments to the
Cassino.
That these little apartments may be occasionally used for the purposes of intrigue, is not improbable; but that this is the ordinary and avowed purpose, for which they are frequented, is of all things the least credible.
Some writers, who have described the manners of the Venetians, as more profligate than those of other nations, assert, at the same time, that the government encourages this profligacy, to relax and dissipate the the minds of the people, and prevent their planning, or attempting any thing against the constitution. Were this the case, it could not be denied, that the Venetian legislators display their patriotism in a very extraordinary manner; and have fallen upon as extraordinary means of rendering their people good subjects. They first erect a despotic court to guard the public liberty; and, next, corrupt the morals of the people, to keep them from plotting against the state. This last piece of refinement, however, is no more than a conjecture of some theoretical politicians, who are apt to take facts for granted, without sufficient proof; and afterwards display their ingenuity in accounting for them. That the Venetians are more given to sensual pleasures, than the inhabitants of London, Paris, or Berlin, will not be difficult to prove; but as the state-inquisitors do not think proper, and the ecclesiastical are not allowed, to interfere in affairs of gallantry; as a great number of strangers assemble twice or thrice a year, at Venice, merely for the sake of amusement, and, above all, as it is the custom to go about in masks; an idea prevails, that the manners are more licentious here, than elsewhere. This custom of wearing a mask, by conveying the ideas of concealment, and disguise, has contributed greatly to give some people an impression of Venetian profligacy. But, for my own part, says
Moore,
it is not a piece of white, or black paper, with disjointed features, that I suspect; having often found the most complete worthlessness concealed under a smooth, smiling piece of human skin.
The custom of
Cavalieri serventi
prevails universally here; this usage would appear in a proper light, and take off a great part of the odium thrown upon the Italians, if the
Cavalieri serventi
were called husbands: for the real husband, or beloved friend, of a Venetian lady, is the
Cicisbeo.
The husband, married in church, is the choice of her friends, not by any means of the lady. It is from this absurd tyranny that the chusing of
Cicisbeos,
and
Cavalieri serventi,
has taken its rise; and will never be relinquished in Italy, whilst the same incongruous combinations consist.
The Venetian ladies have a gay manner of dressing their heads; which becomes them extremely when young, but appears absurd, when age has furrowed over their fine skins, and brought them almost to the ground. I felt a shock at the sight of a tottering old pair, I saw enter a coffee-house, in the place St. Mark, says Lady
Millar;
they were both shaking with the palsy, bearing on each other, and supporting themselves by a crutch-stick; though they were bent almost double, by the weight of years and infirmities, yet the lady's head was dressed with great care; a little rose-coloured hat, nicely trimmed with blond, was stuck just above her right ear, and over her left, was a small knot of artificial flowers; her few grey hairs behind were tied with ribbon, but so thinly scattered over her forehead, that large patches of her shrivelled skin appeared between the parting curls. The
Cavaliere
was not dressed in the same stile; all his elegance consisted in an abundance of ivy flowing over his shoulders. Enquiring who this venerable couple were, I learnt that the gentleman had been the faithful
Cavaliere
of the same lady, above 40 years; that they had regularly frequented the place, St. Mark, and the coffee houses; and with the most steady constancy had loved each other, till age and disease were conducting them both, hand in hand, to the grave.
However, a forty years constancy is far from being universal at Venice; coquettes are to be found there, as well as elsewhere. I have seen some instances of coquetry at fourscore; a
donna nobile,
whom a catarrh and
Satan
had bound, lo! these eighteen years! was sustaining herself on the arm of a brisk cicesbeo, about five and twenty.
By a late regulation, says Lady
Millar,
the partitions which formed a kind of cells, in the lower end of the coffee-houses, and into which two or three people might retire and fasten the door, are now taken away, and the rooms are quite open and public. At first the senate had determined to exclude the women entirely from entering them; but, on their remonstrating very violently against such a measure, they were allowed the liberty of appearing publicly, but were absolutely forbidden to retire into any private room; and the little rooms were, without exception, ordered to be thrown into the large ones.
Another law was at the same time promulgated, that if any
fille de joye
is found walking the streets about the place, St. Mark, &c. for the first offence, she is to have her head completely shaved, and suffer imprisonment for a time specified; and, for the second offence, her eye-brows are likewise to be shaved; she is also to be branded between the eyes, and then banished the republic.
The courtesans here, says
Northall,
are the most insinuating, and have the most alluring arts of any, in all Italy.
It strikes a person very much, says Mrs.
Piozzi,
who has visited other parts of Italy, to see so very few clergymen at Venice, and scarce any who have the air, or looks of a man of fashion. Milan, though such heavy complaints are daily made of encroachments on church-wealth, and church-power, still swarms with ecclesiastics; and, in an assembly of 30 people, there are scarce ever fewer than 10 or 12, making nearly one half of the company. But here it seems as if the cry of
fuori i preti, out with the priests,
which is proclaimed in the council chamber, before any vote is suffered to pass into a law, were carried in the conversation rooms too; for a priest is here less frequent than a clergyman at London; and those we see walking about are, almost all, ordinary men, decent and humble in their appearance; of a bashful distant carriage, resembling the parson of the parish in North Wales; or the
Curé du village
in the South of France; and seem no way related to an
Abbate of Milan or Turin,
and still less to
Monsieur L' Abbé
at Paris.
The Venetians, says Mrs.
Piozzi,
one would imagine have no notion of sleep being necessary to their existence, as some or other of them seem constantly in motion; and there is no hour, in the four and twenty, in which the town seems perfectly quiet; for what with the market-folks bringing up the boats from the opposite shore, loaded with every produce of nature; neatly arranged in their flat-bottomed conveyances, the coming up of which begins about three in the morning, and ends about six;—the gondoliers rowing home their masters and mistresses, about that hour, and so on till eight;—the common business of the town, which it is then time to begin;—the state affairs and
pregai,
which often, like our House of Commons, sit late, and detain many gentlemen from their morning amusements;—the street orators, and mountebanks in the place of St Mark;—the shops and stalls, where chickens, ducks, &c. are sold by auction to the highest bidder;—a flourishing fellow, with a hammer in his hand, shining away in character of an auctioneer;—the crouds which fill the courts of Judicature when any cause of consequence comes on; with the clamorous voices, keen observations, poignant sarcasms, and acute contentions carried on by the advocates, who seem more awake, than all the rest;—all these things take up so much time, that four-and-twenty hours do not suffice for the business, and diversions of Venice, where dinner must be eaten, as in other places, and where such fish wait ones knife and fork, as are not to be seen in any sea, but this, in so great perfection.
The ladies, who scarce ever dine at all, rise about seven in the evening, when the gentlemen are just ready to attend them; they sit sipping their chocolate on a chair at the coffee-house door, with great tranquility, chatting over the common topics of the day; nor do they appear half so shy of each other, as the Milanese ladies; who seldom seem to have any pleasure in the soft converse of a female friend. But, though certainly no women can be more charming than these Venetian ladies; they seem to have forgotten the old mythological fable,
that the youngest of the Graces was married to Sleep;
by which it was intended we should consider that state, as necessary, not only to the reparation of beauty, but of youth.
The crouds of beggars, who infest the streets during the carnival, poison the pleasures of society. While ladies are eating ice, at a coffee-house door; while decent people are hearing mass, at the altar; while strangers are surveying the beauties of the place—no peace, no enjoyment can they obtain for the beggars. But though I hope it will be difficult to find a place where fewer alms are given, yet I never saw refusals so pleasingly softened, as by the manners of the high Italians, towards the low. Ladies, in particular, are so soft mouthed, so tender in replying to those who have their lots cast far below them, that one feels our own harsh disposition corrected by their sweetness.
From the following anecdote, by Mrs.
Piozzi,
one would imagine they looked upon the English as little better than Heathens. A woman of quality, says she, neare whom I sate at a very grand ball, enquired how I had passed the morning. I named several churches I had looked into, particularly that which they esteem beyond the rest, as a favourite work of
Palladio,
and called the
Redentore.
"You do very right," says she, "to look at our churches, as you have none in England, I know—but, then you have so many other fine things—such charming
steel buttons
for example;" pressing my hand, to shew that she meant no offence; for, added she,
chi pensa d'una maniera; chi pensa d'un altra.
Different people have different ways of thinking.
There is a universal politeness here, in every rank; the people expect a civil deportment from their nobles toward them, and they return it with much respect, and veneration; but should a noble assume an insolent, arrogant manner, towards his inferior, it would not be borne with. I was at first, says Lady
Millar,
surprized at the quick transition, from the frothy compliments of those who champ the bit of a despotic government, and the style of compliment in Venice. The highest expression, in this way, being
gentil donna;
which signifies, honest woman, or woman of honour; and, upon entering a shop, the tradesman addressing me to know what I would have, called me
cara ella;
dear she, or dear ma'am; when at Rome, or Naples, such a man would have styled me
Excellenza, Illustrissima.
To try Venetian ladies, by English rules, would be worse than the tyranny complained of, when a native of India was condemned, on the Coventry act, for flitting his wife's nose, which was a common practice in his own country. Here is no struggle for female education, as with us; no resources in study, no duties of family management; no bills of fare to be looked over in the morning, no account-book to be settled at noon; no necessity of reading to supply, without disgrace, the evening's chat; no laughing at the card-table; no tittering in the corner, if a
lapsus linguoe
has produced a mistake, which malice never fails to record. A lady in Italy is certain of applause, let her take ever so little pains to obtain it.
A custom which prevails here of wearing little or no rouge, and increasing the native paleness of their skins, by scarce lightly wiping the white powder from their faces, is a method no Frenchwoman of quality would adopt; yet the Venetians are not behind hand, in art of gaining admirers; and they do not, like their painters, depend upon colouring to ensure it.
Nothing can be a greater proof of the little consequence, which dress gives to a woman, than the reflection we must make on a Venetian lady's mode of appearance in her Zindalet; without which no one stirs out of their house in a morning. It consists of a full black silk petticoat sloped, says Mrs.
Piozzi,
just to train a very little on the ground, and flounced with gauze of the same colour. A skeleton wire upon the head, such as we use to make up hats; throwing loosely over it a large piece of black mode, or Persian, so as to shade the face like a curtain; the front being trimmed with a very deep black lace, or soufflet gauze, infinitely becoming. The thin silk, that remains to be disposed of, they roll back so as to discover the bosom; fasten it with a puff before, at the top of their stomacher; and once more rolling it back from the shape, tie it gracefully behind, and let it hang in two long ends.
The evening ornament is a silk hat, shaped like a man's, and of the same colour, with a white or worked lining at most, and sometimes
one feather;
a great black silk cloak lined with white, and perhaps a narrow border down before, with a vast heavy round handkerchief of black lace, which lies over neck and shoulders, and conceals shape and all completely. Here is surely little appearance of art, no craping, or frizzing the hair, which is flat at the top, all of one length, and hanging in long curls about the back or sides, as it happens. No brown powder, and no rouge at all. Thus, without variety does a Venetian lady contrive to delight the eye, and without much instruction, to charm the ear.
Keysler
says there is a particular college instituted at Venice, to whose care the regulation of dress is committed, by the republic. None are exempted from the jurisdiction of this college but noblemen's wives, the two first years after their marriage, and strangers. The former, however, are no farther indulged, than in wearing a pearl necklace, and a gold fringe at the bottom of their gowns; and in giving their gondoliers ribbons to wear on their caps. But here also, as in other countries, the women are connived at, in this respect, particularly the courtesans; who readily find patrons, under whose protection they trespass against this sumptuary law, with impunity; though there is, sometimes, an instance of one, or two, being fined, on that account.
All the
nobili
wear black; and the importation of foreign cloth is totally prohibited. We have already taken notice of the black lining of the gondolas; but this restriction is limitted to those belonging to the city of Venice: for the Venetian subjects, on the main land, are at full liberty, as to this article.
The noble Venetians are even obliged to paint, and line their gondolas with black; in order to prevent the extravagant expences that would arise from an emulation to outvie each other, in the splendor of these naval equipages. Foreigners are at liberty to spend what money they please in fine gondolas; but few strangers stay long enough in this city, to make use of this political indulgence: so that the only persons, who distinguish themselves splendidly in gondolas, are the foreign ministers who always make entries in them. On these occasions the gondolas are extremely gay, being decorated with the finest paintings, gildings, and sculpture.
Strangers are under less restraint in this city, respecting many particulars, than the native inhabitants. There are many, who, after having tried most of the capitals of Europe, have preferred living at Venice; on account of the variety of amusements, the gentle manners of the inhabitants, and the perfect freedom allowed in every thing, except in blaming the measures of government. If a stranger is so imprudent to give his tongue liberties, in this respect, he will either receive a message to leave the territories of the state, or one of the
Sbirri
will be sent to accompany him to the Pope's, or the Emperor's dominions.
The houses are thought inconvenient, by many of the English; they are better calculated, however, for the climate of Italy, than if they were built according to the London model. The floors which, as we have before remarked, are of red plaister, with a brilliant glossy surface, appear much more beautiful than wood; and are preferable, in case of fire, whose progress they are calculated to check.
The principal apartments being on the second floor, perhaps, is owing to their being farther removed from the moisture of the lakes; or, it may be, to their being better lighted, and more chearful. Though the inhabitants of Great Britain make use of their first floors for their chief apartments, this does not form a complete demonstration that the Venetians are in the wrong, for preferring the second. When an acute sensible people universally follow one custom, in a mere matter of conveniency, however absurd that custom may appear, in the eyes of a stranger, at first fight, it will generally be found that there is some real advantage in it, which compensates all the apparent inconvenience. Of this travellers, who do not hurry, with too much rapidity, through the countries they visit, are very sensible; for, after having had time to weigh every circumstance, they often see reason to approve, what they had formerly condemned. Custom and fashion have the greatest influence on our taste of beauty, or excellence of every kind. What, from a variety of causes, has become the standard in one country, is, sometimes, just the contrary in another. The same thing that makes a low-brimmed hat appear genteel, at one time, makes it ridiculous at another.
CHAP. V.
Amusements.
OF all the diversions, which this city affords to strangers, the carnival is generally accounted the principal one. Young persons, who seek for entertainment only in debauchery, and exorbitant licentiousness, may, at this time, if not satiate their desires, at least tire themselves. But the diversions at this, and other festivals, especially on Ascension-day, are of such a nature, that, to take an habitual delight in such a dissolute manner of living, a person must have laid aside all regard to decency, and morality.
The
courtezans,
who tender their services here, at this time, are the most abandoned wretches, and lost to all sense of modesty and decorum; and, for the most part, have been, for their debaucheries and villanies, driven out of the neighbouring imperial dominions; often bearing, on their backs, marks of the punished, more than once suffered, by the hands of the common hangman.
The Italians, in general, are excessively fond of masquerades; and go, generally, masked, during the whole time of the carnival. The masquerade dress, at Venice, consists only of a night-gown; or a cloak, with a mask on the face. The general use of masks prevents a stranger from making any acquaintance, at this season; and likewise from seeing any curiosities; for no person is permitted to go into a church, or convent, in any kind of disguise.
A stranger is soon tired of the Ridotto at Venice; and, as the purses of most travellers will not allow them to game very high, it would be imprudent in a foreigner to engage too far in this diversion; especially as the cards are different from what he has been used to. None but noble Venetians hold the
Banco,
or bank, as it is called, in the Ridotto-room. Close by every banker sit two ladies in masks; who are allowed to put him in mind of any mistakes he may chance to commit, to his disadvantage. The bankers are unmasked; but the punters keep them on. No mask is denied admittance into the Ridotto-room; so that it may be well conceived what inconveniences one must suffer from such a croud.
The grand scene of all the follies acted, during the carnival, is St. Mark's place; where mountebanks, buffoons, and others, whose profession is to make a prey of the simple vulgar, have their stages, and exhibit their shows. But the most ridiculous figures, among the rest, are the old women, or old men, who sit upon a table, and are consulted, like oracles, concerning future events, the success of enterprizes, &c. That, among such a multitude of people, this may be done, without confusion, and with the greater secrecy, these fortune-tellers make use of a long speaking-trumpet; through which the consulter conveys his queries by a whisper; whilst the conjurer conveys his ear to the large opening; and inverts the trumpet, to resolve the questions proposed. Amidst the pity which naturally must arise in the human breast, at any instance of weakness, or wickedness, that debase rational creatures; a person can scarce forbear smiling to see poor simple girls, coming up to these fortune-tellers, whose looks and gestures betray their fear and confusion, to enquire about their fate, with regard to their amours, &c. To raise the higher ideas of their abilities, these impostors are sure to place on their table some paltry globes, or other astronomical instruments. Even ecclesiastics, both regular and secular, have been known, openly, to have recourse to these fortune-tellers.
In the colonade, or cloister, round St Mark's place, are several coffee-houses, as we have before observed; but which are frequented mostly by foreigners. Formerly the company used to fit and converse together at their ease, in these coffee-houses; but this custom has been, for some time, prohibited. This was owing to a discovery made during the carnival. The son of the Imperial envoy had made use of this opportunity, when masked, to discourse with several of the Venetian nobility; and, since that time, no benches or chairs have been allowed in the coffee-houses of this city.
It is not only during the carnival, but on several other occasions, that masks are allowed; namely, on the four days that the republic holds its grand feasts; at the
Regata,
or boat-races, and other entertainments for the diversion of foreign princes; at the nuptials of one of the nobles; on the election of the procurators of St.
Mark;
or on the public entry of a foreign ambassador, &c. These opportunities, says
Keysler,
the Venetian ladies wait for with the most eager impatience; but the husbands are no less on their guard to secure the honour of the marriage-bed. However, as the commerce between the sexes has undergone great alterations, since the beginning of this century, this is also the case at Venice; where ladies of character not only receive male visitors in the morning, when in an undress, but accept of invitations to entertainments, in mixed companies; and even to treats at taverns. But there are parties where foreigners are seldom, or ever, admitted; unless known to some of the principal persons of the company.
On the last Thursday of the carnival, when licentiousness is carried to its greatest height, bulls are baited in several streets, and in St. Mark's place; but these may be seen at other times.
The Turkish sailor gave no bad account of a carnival, when he told his Mahometan friends, on his return to Turkey, that the poor christians were all disordered in their senses; and nearly in a state of actual madness, while he remained among them; till one day, on a sudden, they luckly found out a certain grey powder that cured such symptoms; and, laying it on their heads one Wednesday morning, the wits of all the inhabitants were restored instantaneously; and the people grew sober, quiet, composed, and went about their business, just like other folks, He meant the ashes strewed on the heads of Catholics during Lent, which ceremony is more strictly observed in Venice, than in any other catholic countries.
On Ascension-day, in the afternoon, several hundred boats and gondolas may be seen rowing, for wagers, on the canal
di Murano;
and their dexterity in keeping clear of each other, tacking about, &c. is very surprizing. In most of the gondolas, on this day, are masks and music; and a universal emulation appears among them, who shall divert themselves most.
When any foreign prince of distinction arrives at Venice, the republic generally entertains him with a
regatta,
or rowing matches of gondolas, on the great canal. The word
regatta
seems to be derived from the
aurigatio,
or chariot-races of the
Circensian
games.
Formerly another diversion was exhibited at this season, on a bridge near St.
Barnaby
's church; which was an engagement betwixt the
Castellani
and
Nicolati.
During this mock battle, several persons, on both sides, are thrown into the water. This bridge is seven common paces broad, eighteen long, and without any fence; and, when such an engagement was going to be exhibited, the water under it was made deeper than usual. The combatants were not allowed to scratch or seize one another, but only to shew their strength, and address, with their arms and fists. But this diversion has been suppressed for some time, having once occasioned a dangerous tumult; when the populace assaulted, with stones, the houses where the nobles were posted to view the battle, and encourage the combatants.
Among the several shows, that are annually exhibited during the carnival,
Addison
mentions one that is odd enough, and particular to the Venetians. A set of artisans, by the several poles, which they lay across each others shoulders, build themselves up into a kind of pyramid; so that you see a pile of men, in the air, of four or five rows, rising one above another. The weight is so equally distributed, that every man is very well able to bear his part of it; the stories, if they may be so called, growing less and less as they advance higher and higher. A little boy represents the point of the pyramid; who, after a short space, leaps off, with a great deal of dexterity, into the arms of one that catches him at the bottom. In the same manner the whole building falls to pieces. (We have seen this exhibited at a place of entertainment in London). I have been the more particular in this, says
Addison,
because it explains the following verse of
Claudian,
which shews that the Venetians are not the inventors of this trick.
Vel qui more avium sese jaculantur in auras,
Corporaque oedificant, celeri crescentia nexu,
Quorum compositam puer augmentatus in arcem
Emicat, & vinctus plantoe, vel cruribus hoerens,
Pendula librato figit vestigia saltu.
CLAUD.
Men, piled on men, with active leaps arise,
And build the breathing fabric to the skies;
A sprightly youth, above the topmost row,
Points the tall pyramid, and crowns the show.
The Italian plays, in general, remarks
Keysler,
are wretched performances, and those of Venice are not at all better than the rest. As the whole design of the actors is to raise a laugh in the audience, to that purpose they employ all manner of grimaces, postures, and distortions, which sometimes border upon obscenity.
The Italian opera may be very justly reckoned among the principal diversions, both of the carnival and the Ascension week. In this particular, the Italians unquestionably surpass all other nations; and nothing but an insupportable vanity can make the French bring their music in competition with that of Italy. The decorations of the theatre of Paris are indeed scarce to be exceeded, and the dances and interludes, between the acts, are excellent. But in the composition of the opera, and the executive part, the French are much inferior to the Italians. Their airs, for the most part, resemble drinking songs, and have so little variety, that the repetition of the same sounds must be tiresome to a nice car. When a new opera is exhibited, if the French audience cannot make themselves masters of the airs, so as to be able to join with the performers, in singing them on the second night, they are displeased with them. But in the Italian theatre the case is different; for though the latter have naturally a great fondness and genius for music; yet they are sensible it requires a much longer time to be able to imitate the fine airs of their singers.
Interludes, which consist of drolleries of all kinds, accompanied with suitable songs, are introduced between the acts of the opera, on the Italian stage, in order to divert the audience. Ballads and dances are also frequently exhibited, but these are not to be compared with the opera dances at Paris.
There are no less than seven
theatres
at Venice; two of these are commonly appropriated to the serious operas, two to comic operas, and the other three to plays; but they are all open only during the carnival, which begins on St.
Stephen,
and continues till Lent; and then they are all full every night. In Autumn, the houses are open for the comic operas and plays: and at the Ascension there is a serious opera. A trifle is paid at the door for admittance; this entitles a person to go into the pit, where he may look about, and determine what part of the house he will sit in. There are rows of chairs towards the front, the seats of which sold back, and are locked. Those, who choose to occupy them, pay a little more money to the door-keeper, who immediately unlocks the seat. Very decent people occupy these chairs; but the back part of the pit is filled with footmen and gondoliers, in their common working clothes. The nobility, and better sort of citizens, have boxes retained for the year; but there is always a sufficient number to be let to strangers; the price of them varies every night, according to the season of the year, and the piece to be acted.
A Venetian playhouse has a dismal appearance, in the eyes of people accustomed to the brilliancy of those in London. Many of the boxes are so dark, that the faces of the company in them can hardly be distinguished, at a little distance; even when they do not wear masks. The stage, however, is well illuminated, so that the people in the boxes can see perfectly well, every thing that is transacted there; and when they chuse to be seen themselves, they order lights into the boxes. Between the acts, ladies may sometimes be seen walking about with their
cavalieri serventi
in the back part of the pit, when it is not crowded. As they are masked, they do not scruple to reconnoitre the company with their spying-glasses, from this place: when the play begins they return to their boxes. This continual moving about, from box to box, and between the boxes and the pit, must create some confusion; and, no doubt, is disagreeable to those who attend merely on account of the piece. There must be found some
douceur,
at least, in the midst of all this obscurity and confusion; which, in the opinion of the majority of the audience, overbalances these inconveniences.
The music of the opera, here, is reckoned as fine as in any town in Italy. The dramatic and poetic part of these pieces is little regarded, provided the music receives the approbation of the critics. It is certainly happy for a man to have a taste for fine music, because he has, by this means, one source of enjoyment more than those, whose auditory nerves are less delicately strung. It is, however, equally absurd, to affect an excessive delight in things, which nature has not framed us to enjoy; yet how many people may be seen doing painful penance in the opera-house, at the Haymarket; and, in the midst of unsuppressible yawnings, calling out, Charming! exquisite! bravissimo! &c.
It is amazing what pains some people take to render themselves ridiculous; and it is a matter of real curiosity to observe, in what various shapes the little despicable spirit of affectation shews itself among mankind.
I remember, says
Moore,
a very honest gentleman, who understood little or no French; but having picked up a few phrases, he brought them forward on every occasion; and affected, among his neighbours in the country, the most perfect knowledge, and the highest admiration of that language. When any person, in compliance with his taste, uttered a sentence in that tongue, though my good friend did not understand a syllable of it, yet he never failed to nod and smile to the speaker, with the most knowing air imaginable. The parson of the parish, at a country dinner, once addressed him in these emphatic words:
Monsieur, Je trouve ce plum pudding extrémement bon!
which happening not to be in my friends collection of phrases, he did not comprehend. He nodded and smiled to the clergyman, however, in his usual intelligent manner; but a person who sat near him, being struck with the sagacious and important tone in which the observation had been delivered, begged of my friend to explain it in English: on which, after some hesitation, he declared that the turn of the expression was so genteel, and so exquisitely adapted to the French idiom, that it could not be rendered into English without losing a great deal of the original beauty of the sentiment.
At the comic opera, continues
Moore,
I have sometimes seen action alone excite the highest applause, independent either of the poetry or the music. I saw a duo performed by an old man and a young woman, supposed to be his daughter, in such a humourous manner, as drew an universal encore from the spectators; though the merit of the musical part of the composition was but very moderate.
The father informs his daughter, in a song, he had found an excellent match for her; who, besides being rich, very prudent, and not too young, was, a particular friend of his own; and, in person and disposition, not unlike himself: he concludes by telling her the ceremony shall be performed next day. She thanks him in the gayest air possible, for his obliging intentions, adding, that she should have been glad to have shewn her implicit obedience to his commands, had there been any chance of the man's being to her taste; but as, from the account given, there could be none, she declares she will not marry him the next day; and adds, with a very
long
quaver, that if she were to live to
all eternity,
she should continue of the same opinion. The father, in a violent rage, tells her, instead of to-morrow, the marriage shall take place that very day; to which she replies,
non:
he rejoins,
si;
she,
non, non;
he,
si, si;
the daughter,
non, non, non;
the father,
si, si, si;
and so the singing continued five or six minutes. There is certainly nothing marvellously witty in this; and for a daughter to be of a different opinion from her father, in the choice of a husband, is not a very new dramatic incident. The duo, however, was encored, and performed a second time with more humour than the first. The whole house vociferates for it again; and it was sung a third time in a manner equally pleasant, and yet perfectly different from any of the former two. I thought the house would have been brought down about our ears, so extravagant were the testimonies of approbation. The two actors were now obliged to appear again, and sing this duo a fourth time; which they executed in a style so new, so natural, and so exquisitely droll, that the audience now thought there had been something deficient in all their former performances, and that they had hit on the true comic only this last time. Some people began to call for it again; but the old man, now quite exhausted, begged for mercy; on which the point was given up. I never before, concludes
Moore,
had any idea, that such strong comic powers could have been displayed in the warbling of a song.
The dancing is an essential part of the entertainment at the opera here, as well as at London. There is certainly a much greater proportion of mankind deaf to the delights of music, than blind to the beauties of fine dancing. During the singing and recitative, the fingers often sing, for a considerable time, without any one's minding them; but the moment the ballet begins, private conversation, though pretty universal before, is immediately at an end, and the eyes of all the spectators are fixed on the stage. This, to be sure, has always been the case in London; and, in spite of the pains some people take to conceal it, we all know the reason; but to find this same preference of dancing to music, in Italy, is worthy of reason.
The comedies, says
Addison,
that I saw at Venice, or indeed in any other part of Italy, are very different, and more lewd than those of other countries. Their poets have no notion of genteel comedy, and fall into the most filthy double meanings imaginable, when they have a mind to make their audience merry. There is no part generally so wretched as that of the fine gentleman, especially when he converses with his mistress; for then the whole dialogue is an insipid mixture of pedantry and romance. But it is no wonder that the poets of so jealous and reserved a nation fail in such conversation on the stage, which they have no patterns of in nature. There are four standing characters, which enter into every piece that come on the stage, the
Doctor, Harlequin, Pantalone,
and
Coviello.
The doctor's character comprehends the whole extent of a pedant, that with a deep voice, and a magisterial air, breaks in upon conversation, and drives down all before him: every thing he says is backed with quotations out of
Galen, Hippocrates, Plato, Virgil,
or any author that rises uppermost; and all answers from his companion are looked upon as impertinences or interruptions.
Harlequin
's part is made up of blunders and absurdities: he is to mistake one man for another, to forget his errands, to stumble over queens, and to run his head against a post that stands in his way. This all attended with something so comical in the voice and gestures, that a man, who is sensible of the folly of the part, can hardly forbear being pleased with it.
Pantalone
is generally an old cully, and
Coviello
a sharper.
Moore
makes the same remarks. I had got, says this writer, I don't know how, the most contemptuous opinion of the Italian drama. I had been told there was not a tolerable actor in Italy, and had been long taught to consider their comedy as the most despicable stuff in the world, which could not amuse, or even draw a smile from, any person of taste. Impressed with these sentiments, I visited one of the playhouses in this city. The piece was a comedy, and the most entertaining character in it, was that of a man who stuttered. In this defect, and in the singular grimaces which accompanied it, consisted a great part of the amusement. Disgusted at such a pitiful substitution for wit and humour, I expressed a contempt for an audience which could be entertained with such buffoonery, and who could take pleasure in a natural infirmity. While we inwardly indulged sentiments of self-approbation, on account of the refinement and superiority of our taste, and supported the dignity of those sentiments by a disdainful gravity of countenance; the stutterer was giving a piece of information to
Harlequin,
which greatly interested him, and to which he listened with every mark of eagerness. The unfortunate speaker had just arrived at the most important part of his narrative, which was to acquaint the impatient listener where his mistress was concealed, when he unluckily stumbled on a word of six or seven syllables, which completely obstructed the progress of his narration. He attempted it again and again, but always without success. You may have observed, that though many other words would explain his meaning equally well, you may as soon make a saint change his religion, as prevail on a stutterer to accept of another word in place of the one at which he has stumbled. He adheres to his first word to the last, and will sooner expire with it in his throat, than give it up for any other you may offer.
Harlequin,
on the present occasion, presented his friend with a dozen, but he rejected them all with disdain, and persisted in his unsuccessful attempts on that which had first come in his way. At length, making a desperate effort, when all the spectators were gaping in expectation of his safe delivery, the cruel word came up with its broad side foremost, and stuck directly across the unhappy man's windpipe. He gaped, and panted, and croaked; his face flushed, and his eyes seemed ready to start from his head.
Harlequin
unbuttoned the stutterers waistcoat, and the neck of his shirt; he fanned his face with his cap, and held a bottle of hartshorn to his nose. At length, fearing his unhappy patient would expire before he could give the desired intelligence, in a fit of despair he pitched his head full in the dying man's stomach, and the word bolted out at his mouth to the most distant part of the house. This was performed in a manner so perfectly droll, and the humorous absurdity of the expedient came so unexpectedly upon me, that I immediately burst into a most excessive fit of laughter, in which I was accompanied by the friends who were with me; and our laughter continued in such loud, violent, and repeated fits, that the attention of the audience being turned from the stage to our box, occasioned a renewal of the mirth all over the playhouse with greater vociferation than at first. On return to our hotel, I was asked if I were as much convinced as ever, that a man must be perfectly devoid of taste, who could condescend to laugh at an Italian comedy. When the theatres are open, all the world goes there, particularly in the season of the carnival, where the Barcaroles, or Gondoliers, make so great a figure, that it is said of them, what
Bickerstaff
said of the trunk-maker in the
Tatler,
that what they censure or applaud is generally condemned or approved by the public; in short, that it is the Barcaroles who decide the fate of an opera or play. These Barcaroles, says
Sharpe,
are certainly such a body of sober men, as in England we have no instance of, among the lower class of people: in masquerade time, however, they indulge the taste of gaming; and, doubtless, often play with the nobles, their masters; but the brownness and coarseness of their hands betray their occupation; besides, it is impossible for them to forbear making their boasts, or their complaints, of good and bad fortune; when their dialect and deportment never fail to discover them.
The number, as well as character of these people, renders their body very respectable: when one considers that in all the great families every gentleman keeps a distinct gondola, rowed by two men, except some few, who have but one rower; it will be readily conceived, that the number of Barcaroles must be very considerable. They are exceedingly proud of their station, and with some reason; for their profession leads them into the company of the greatest men of the state; and it is the fashion to converse with them, to hear their wit and humour, and applaud every thing they say; besides, the pay of a Barcarole is about eighteen pence English, with liveries and little perquisites; which, in so cheap a country, is a plentiful income to a sober man; accordingly it is notorious, that all of them can afford to marry, and do marry.
We shall conclude this account of their amusements with the ceremony of a Venetian wedding, and the dress of the bride, as described by Lady
Millar.
The procession of the gondolas to the church was very fine; the gondoliers, dressed in gold and silver stuffs, made a most brilliant contrast with the blackness of their boats. The pillars, and walls of the church, were covered with crimson damask, fringed with gold; the altar richly adorned with lace and flowers, and the steps up to it spread over with Persian carpets; and the whole church was illuminated with large wax tapers, though at noon day.
As soon as the company were disembarked from their gondolas, they formed themselves into a regular procession; the ladies walked two and two: they were all dressed in thin black silk gowns, (except the bride) with large hoops; the gowns are strait-bodied, with very long trains, like the court-dresses worn at Versailles; their trains tucked up on one side of the hoop, with a prodigious large tassel of diamonds. Their sleeves were covered, up to the shoulders, with falls of the finest Brussels lace, a drawn tucker of the same round the bosom, adorned with rows of the finest pearl, each as large as a moderate gooseberry, till the rows descended below the top of the stomacher; then two ropes of pearls, which came from the back of the neck, were caught up, at the left side of the stomacher, and finished in two fine tassels. Their heads were dressed prodigiously high, in a vast number of buckles, and two long drop curls in the neck. A great number of diamond pins, and strings of pearl, adorned their heads, with large
sultanes,
or feathers, on one side, and magnificent diamond ear-rings.
A VENETIAN WEDDING
CHAP. VI.
Constitution and Government.
THE supreme authority is lodged in the hands of the nobility, who are said to be in number near 2,000. On the birth of a nobleman's son, his name is entered in the
golden book,
otherwise he forfeits his nobility. Every nobleman is indeed a member of the senate; and, on this account, it is a received maxim that they are all equal in dignity. But the difference, notwithstanding, between the interest and authority of families, is very considerable. Crowned heads, German, and other princes, have not thought it any degradation to be made nobles of Venice.
The head of the Republic is the Doge, or Duke; who, on the demise of the former, is chosen in the following manner; which is not a little complicated. All the noblemen, above thirty years of age, meet in the palace of St.
Mark;
where an equal number of balls, to the persons present, are put into an urn. Thirty of these are gilded, and the others silvered over. Every nobleman, in his turn, takes out a balls, and they who have drawn the thirty gilt balls, retire into a chamber to continue the election. These thirty electors draw from another urn, in which are twenty-one silvered, and nine gilded balls. They who draw the gilded balls, nominate forty other electors, which are again by lot reduced to twelve, who name five and twenty. These five and twenty draw lots a second time, to be reduced to nine, and of these nine, each chooses five others, making in all forty-five; and from these forty-five, eleven are separated again by lot, who choose forty-one others. These forty-one are then shut up in a chamber of the ducal palace, and there remain till they have chosen a new Doge. The result of their determination is generally known in six or eight hours. To the due and legal election of a Doge, it is required, that out of the forty-one, he should have five and twenty votes. His election is followed by a kind of coronation; the ducal cap, the fore-part of which projects as a mark of the unlimited power of the republic, being placed, with great ceremony, on his head.
The Doge has been very justly defined to be, in habit and state a king, in authority a counsellor, in the city a prisoner, and out of it a private person. He is not so much as to stir from the city, without the council's permission. At present, his privileges consist in the following leading particulars: 1. That the coin be stamped with his name, but not with his image. 2. That all the credentials of the ministers of the republics to foreign courts be made out in his name, but without his signature, or seal. 3. That all dispatches from foreign courts be directed to him; which, however, he is not to open, but in presence of some of the council. 4. That he is to act as the president of all assemblies. 5. That within Venice he is to have the state of a sovereign prince, and to be styled
Serenissime.
6. That he is to uncover himself only before sovereigns, and princes of royal blood, and cardinals. 7. Lastly, That his family is not to be subject to any sumptuary laws. His yearly income is 12,000 ducats. Of this sum, he must spend one half on the four grand entertainments, which he is obliged to give every year; and, to live up to his dignity, he must also spend considerably of his own fortune.
Among the restrictions laid upon him, are the following: His sons and brothers are excluded from all considerable offices, and incapable of being sent on embassies as long as he lives; and, without the senate's consent, they are not to accept of a fief from a foreign prince, or a benefice from the Pope. Even the Doge himself is not to marry the sister, or relation of a prince, without the permission of the great council. On his demise, his administration is strictly enquired into, and frequent opportunities taken of laying a heavy fine on his heirs for mal-administration. Even in his life-time, he is subject to the decree of the state inquisition; the president of which may, at all hours, go into his most secret closets, and search his bed, and all his writings, while the Doge dares not express the least disgust, or resentment. In state affairs, he cannot do the least thing, nor go out of the city, without the consent of the senate; and, during his stay on the
Terra firma,
he is looked on no more than a private gentleman. Under such disagreeable circumstances, if it were not a flagrant truth, that the human heart idolizes every thing which has a splendid exterior, we should conclude, that the dignity of a Venetian Doge, would be rather avoided, than eagerly sought after.
In the grand council, all nobles, of the age of twenty-five years, may take their place, though some younger find means to obtain admittance. It usually meets on Sundays, and holidays, in the large hall of the ducal place; and, when all the nobility are present, consists of near 2,000 persons.
The senate, or
pregadi,
are a committee of the grand council, by whom they are also chosen. This senate has the management of the most secret and important state affairs; such as making alliances, declaring war, sending ambassadors, coining money, sitting up offices, imposing taxes, &c. It consists of about 300 persons.
The third council is called the
collegium,
and consists of the Doge, his six counsellors, and one or two others. In this council, letters and instruments relating to the state are read, ambassadors are admitted to audience, and other important affairs are transacted.
The procurators of St.
Mark
were, at first, only appointed as commissioners, to superintend the building of the church; but in time, wills, guardianships, and making a proper provision for the poor, fell under their jurisdiction. This office is reckoned the more considerable, because it is held for life. The procurators of St.
Mark
are, at present; but nine in number: when the state is distressed for money, the title may be acquired, by advancing a considerable sum.
The council often is a high penal court, which, in fact, consists of seventeen members; for, besides the ten noblemen chosen annually by the grand council, from which number this court receives its name, the Doge presides, and the six counsellors attached to the Doge assist, when they think proper, at all deliberations.
The council is supreme in all crimes against the state. It is the duty of three chiefs, chosen every month from this court, by lot, to open all letters addressed to it; to report the contents, and assemble the members, when they think proper. They have the power of seizing accused persons, examining them in prison, and taking their answers in writing, with the evidence against them; which being laid before the court, these chiefs appear as prosecutors.
The prisoners, all this time, are kept in close confinement, deprived of the company of relations and friends, and not allowed to receive any advice by letters. They can have no counsel to assist them, unless one of the judges chooses to assume that office; in which case he is permitted to manage their defence, and plead their cause; after which the court decides, by a majority of votes, acquitting the prisoner, or condemning him to private or public execution, as they think proper; and if any persons murmur at the fate of their relations or friends, and talk of their innocence, and the injustice they have met with, these mal-contents are in great danger of meeting with the same fate.
Out of this court the grand council of Venice, in the year 1501, thought proper to create the tribunal of state-inquisitors, which is still more despotic and brief in its manner of proceeding.
This court consists of three members only, all taken from the council of ten; two litterally from the ten, and the third from the counsellors of the Doge, who also make part of that council.
These three persons have the power of deciding, without appeal, on the lives of every citizen belonging to the Venetian State; the highest of the nobility, even the Doge himself, not being excepted. They keep the keys of the boxes, into which anonymous informations are thrown. The informers, who expect a recompence, cut off a little piece of their letter, which they afterwards shew to the inquisitor, when they claim a reward. To these three inquisitors is given the right of employing spies, considering secret intelligence, issuing orders to seize all persons, whose words or actions they think reprehensible, and afterwards trying them, when they think proper. If all the three are of one opinion, no farther ceremony is necessary; they may order the prisoner to be strangled in prison, drowned in the canal Orfano, hanged privately in the night between the pillars, or executed publickly as they please; and whatever their decision be, no further inquisition can be made on the subject; but, if any one of the three differs from his brethren, the cause must be carried before the full assembly of the council often. One would naturally imagine, that by those the prisoner might have a good chance of being acquitted; because, the difference in opinion of the three inquisitors shews, that the case is at least dubious; and, in dubious cases, this court is governed by maxims different from that of others. It is a rule here to admit of smaller presumptions, in all crimes which affect the government, than in other cases; and the only difference they make between a crime fully proved, and one more doubtful, is, that, in the first case, the execution is in broad day-light; but when there are doubts of the prisoner's guilt, he is put to death privately. The state inquisitors have keys to every apartment of the ducal palace, and can, when they think proper, penetrate into the very bed-chamber of the Doge, open his cabinet, and examine his papers. Of course they may command access to the house of every individual in the state. They continue in office only one year, but are not responsible afterwards for their conduct, while they were in authority.
What would our modern patriots think, if they lived in the same city with three persons, who had the power of shutting them up in a dungeon, and putting them to death when they pleased, and without being accountable for so doing? If, from the characters of the inquisitors of one year, a man had nothing to dread; still he might fear, that a set of a different character might be in authority the next; and although he were persuaded, that the inquisitors would always be chosen from among men of the most known integrity in the state, he might tremble at the malice of secret informers and enemies; a combination of whom might impose on the understanding of upright judges, especially where the accused is excluded from his friends, and denied counsel to assist him in his defence; for let him be never so conscious of innocence, he cannot be sure of remaining unsuspected, or unaccused; nor can he be certain, that he shall not be put to the rack, to supply a deficiency of evidence; and finally, though a man possessed of so much firmness of character, as to feel no inquietude from any of their considerations on his own account, he might still be under apprehensions for his children, and other connections, for whom some men feel more anxiety than for themselves.
If a nobleman declines an office to which he has been elected, he is obliged to pay a fine of 2,000 ducats, and is excluded from the great council, and likewise from the
Broglio,
for the space of two years. The
nobili
are not allowed to hold any lands or fiefs on the
terra firma;
but gardens and houses of pleasure are not included in this prohibition. A noble Venetian, who enters into holy orders, is excluded from the great council, and all public employments; and this law extends even to such as are made knights of Malta. None of the nobility must take presents, pensions, or receive any order of knighthood from foreign states. The relations of such Venetians, as are cardinals, are excluded from all deliberations in the council, respecting ecclesiastical affairs. No person enjoys more than one office at the same time, be it ever so considerable. No one must congratulate any person, in his obtaining a part in the government, except he is promoted to be Doge or Procurator of St.
Mark;
nor must he solicit any judge, but on criminal processes. In the division of hereditary estates, the eldest son of a noble Venetian has no advantage over his younger brothers; by which means several families are reduced to poverty; especially as they are not allowed to mend their circumstances by trade or commerce. It is hardly credible, what a mean appearance several persons among the nobility make in the streets of Venice, by the shabbiness of their dress, &c. Many of them are not able to keep a servant; so that they are obliged to buy their provisions, even in the market, and carry them home along the public streets. When there are several brothers in a family, in order to prevent their falling thus into contempt by their poverty, only one of them marries. But by this practice, not only the increase of the nobility is hindered, but a great many scandalous cries are likewise propagated among the rest of the brothers, which are committed at Venice in a most flagrant manner, without shame or concealment. Keeping a mistress is looked upon as an undoubted privilege belonging to a noble Venetian; and when one, by reason of his poverty, cannot keep a mistress for his own use alone, he enters into a co-partnership with three or four indigent persons, who all contribute to support her, and enjoy her company by turns.
Many people are surprized, that in a government so very jealous of its power as that of Venice, there is no military establishment, within the city, to support the executive power, and repress any popular commotion. This is supposed to proceed from the jealousy of the government, lest a few rich and powerful nobles should corrupt the garrison, and gain over the commander to any ambitious plan of their own, for the destruction of the constitution.
But although there is no formal garrison, in a military uniform, there is a real effective force, sufficient to suppress any popular commotion, at the command of the senate and council of ten. This force, besides the
Sbirri,
consists of a great number of stout fellows; who, without any distinguishing dress, are kept in the pay of government, and are at the command of that council. There is also the whole body of the Gondoliers, the most hardy and daring of the common Venetians. This body of men are greatly attached to the nobility, from whom they have most of their employment, and with whom they acquire a certain degree of familiarity, by passing great part of their time, shut up in boats, in their company, and by being privy to many of their love intrigues. Great numbers of these Gondoliers are in the service of particular nobles; and there is no doubt that, in case of any popular insurrection, the whole would take the side of the nobility and senate, against the people. In short, they may be considered as a kind of standing militia, ready to rise as soon as the government required their services.
Lastly, there is the Grand Council itself; which, in case of any violent commotion of the citizens and populace, could be armed directly, from the small arsenal within the ducal palace; and would prove a very formidable force against an unarmed multitude; for the laws of Venice forbid, under pain of death, any citizen to carry fire-arms; a law which is very exactly executed by the state inquisitors.
By these means, the executive power of government is as irresistible at Venice, as at Petersburgh, or Constantinople.
There is, unquestionably, much reflection and great depth of thought, in the formation of the political constitution of Venice; but, remark some writers, it would be more admirable, if the council of ten, and state inquisitors, had never formed any part of it. This institution, say they, destroys the effect of all the rest, and is worse than the fixed and permanent tyranny of one person; for that person's character, and maxims would be known; and, by endeavouring to conform themselves to his way of thinking, people might have some chance of living unmolested; but, according to this plan, they have a free-thinker for their tyrant to-day, and a bigot to morrow. One year a set of inquisitors, who consider certain parts of conduct as innocent; which, in the sight of their successors, may appear state-crimes; so that men know not what they have to depend on. A universal jealousy must therefore prevail, and precautions will be used to avoid the suspicions of government, unknown in any other country. Accordingly, we find, that the noble Venetians are afraid of having any intercourse with foreign Ambassadors, or with foreigners of any kind; they are even cautious of visiting at each others houses, and hardly ever have meetings together, except at the courts, or in the Broglio. The boasted secrecy of their public councils proceeds, in all probability, from the same principle of fear. If all conversation on public affairs were forbid, under pain of death, and if the members of the British parliament were liable to be seized in the night, by general warrants, and hanged at Tyburn, or drowned in the Thames, at the pleasure of the Secretaries of State, the world would know as little of what passes in either house of parliament, as they do of what is transacted in the senate of Venice.
It is not safe for a noble Venetian to acquire, in a high degree, the love and confidence of the common people. This excites the jealousy of the inquisitors, and proves a pretty certain means of excluding him from any of the high offices. A government which displays so much distrust and suspicion, when there is little or no ground, will not fail to shew marks of the same disposition, when, in the general opinion, there is some reason to be circumspect.
Though it is forbid the nobility and clergy, to hold any communication with strangers upon politics, or affairs of state; yet, it is remarked, that the Gondoliers are exceeding ready to talk upon these, or any other subjects, with all who give them the smallest encouragement. Those, who are not in the immediate service of any particular nobleman, are often retained by government, as spies upon strangers. It is said, that while these fellows row their gondolas, in seeming inattention to the conversation, they are taking notice of every thing which is said, that they may report it to their employers, when they imagine it any way concerns the government. As soon as a stranger arrives, the Gondoliers, who brought him to Venice, repair to a certain office, and give information where they took him up, to what house they conducted him, and any other particulars they may have picked up.
The citizens form a respectable body in the state; and, though they are excluded from the senate, they may hold some very lucrative and important offices. By applying to the arts and sciences, which are encouraged at Venice, they have a fair chance of living agreeably, and laying up a competency for their families. Private property is no where better secured than at Venice; and though she no longer enjoys the trade of Asia, without competitors, yet her commerce is still considerable, and many individuals acquire great wealth by trade. The manufactories established here employ all the industrious poor; and prevent that squalid beggary, that pilfering and robbery, one or other, or all of which, prevail in most other countries of Europe.
Their subjects on the
terra firma
are not at all oppressed; the senate has found, that mild treatment and good usage are the best policy, and more effectual than armies, in preventing revolts. The
Podestas,
therefore, are not allowed to abuse their power, by treating the people with severity or injustice. Those governors know that any complaints produced against them, will be scrutinized by the senate very carefully. This prevents many abuses of power on their part, and makes the neighbouring prince, which formerly belonged to this state, regret the chance of war, which ravished them from the equitable government of their ancient masters.
The republic is extremely rigid in the observance of quarantine; and, considering that they border on those countries, where the plague so frequently rages, they cannot be too circumspect. There is not the least connivance ever practised; all letters, to whomsoever directed, are first opened by the officers, and then smoaked before they are delivered. A few years since, a boy got on board one of the vessels, performing quarantine, and stole some tobacco; he was pursued into Venice, and shot dead in the streets. There are many custom-house officers in their boats, watching the vessels performing quarantine, night and day, who would certainly kill the first man who should attempt to go on shore before it was expired.
The republic is divided into eleven general governments. No nobleman, indebted to the state, is permitted to vote in the senate. Commerce, and all menial occupations, are forbidden them. If a nobleman is in distressed circumstances, he has generally some appointment given him by the senate.
There is great opportunity for chicanery in the courts of law, as each province has its particular customs and privileges.
The mode of pleading in their courts of law is very singular; and gives their lawyers more the appearance of a demoniac, than of a man endeavouring, by sound reason, to convince the judges and the audience, of the justice of his client's cause. Every advocate mounts into a small pulpit, where he opens his harangue with some gentleness, but does not long contain himself within those limits; his voice soon cracks; and, what is very remarkable, the beginning of most sentences whilst he is under agitation, or seeming enthusiasm in pleading, is at a pitch above his natural voice, so as to occasion a wonderful discord; then, if he means to be very emphatical, he strikes the pulpit with his hands, five or six times together, as quick as thought; stamping, at the same time, so as to make the great room resound with this species of oratory; at length, in the fury of his argument, he descends from the pulpit, runs about pleading on the floor, returns in a violent passion back again to the pulpit, thwarts it with his hands more than at first, and continues in this rage, running up and down the pulpit several times, till he has finished his harangue. His wig, all this while, seems to be in continual danger of dropping from his head, and this not uncommonly happens.
This republic has now existed above fourteen hundred years; which is the more extraordinary, considering the great number of enemies it has had; and the ruinous and expensive wars in which it has been engaged. But its power never shone with so much lustre, as during the famous league of Cambray, when almost all the powers of Europe were combined to its overthrow.
In effect, the Emperor
Maximilian, Louis
XII.
Ferdinand,
King of Spain;
Henry
VIII. King of England; the Pope; all the Princes of Italy; in short, the Grand Turk; all leagued together against it, which made it generally supposed, that its total downfall was at hand. However, its conduct was so admirable, that after having lost a great part of its territories, which it could not defend in its first moment of attack, it recovered them shortly after, and even put to slight the Emperor, who had advanced at the head of an army of 200,000 men, in full confidence to erase the very foundations of its capital.
CHAP. VII.
Revenue, Army, Navy, &c.
THE annual revenue of the republic is computed at twenty-six millions and a half of French livres, of which the capital alone furnishes twelve millions. The expenditure is made to amount only to twenty-four millions; consequently there is an annual surplus of two millions of French livres. By a regulation made in the year 1786, half a million is allotted every year for defraying the national debt; the interest of which, at that time, amounted to five millions of livres. Three hundred thousand livres are annually expended in presents to the Grand Signior, and the piratical states of Barbary. In time of war, both the nobles and the other subjects, even the Doge, contribute proportionably to their income, towards defraying the public expences.
In the army, the republic makes little use of such of its subjects, as live under heavy oppressions. The flower of its infantry consists of thirteen regiments of Dalmatians, men of great resolution, but more expert in the use of the sword than of fire arms. The Swiss also, on occasion, furnish 6,000 men to be paid by the republic. Their army is said to consist of 30,000 men. Owing to the jealousy of the superior officers, some distinguished foreigner is appointed commander in chief; but to him are joined two
proveditori generali,
without whose consent he can do nothing.
Each province has likewise its separate militia; and is, besides, obliged to furnish a certain number of its inhabitants, to be exercised in the manoeuvres of the artillery.
The naval force of the republic is also considerable; amounting, according to public accounts, to fourteen men of war, twenty galleasses, and twenty-five galleys, commanded by a captain-general, who is always one of the principal nobility. Under him is the
proveditore generale di mare,
and other great officers.
In time of war, it is said, the Venetians can equip near thirty ships of the line. In time of peace, there are 12 or 14,000 sailors employed; which, in war time, may be increased to 30,000, from the provinces of Dogado and Istria.
Venice formerly held the first rank among the trading cities, or rather the trading nations of Europe; and her declension, from so brilliant an honour, is chiefly owing to two causes; the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, and the prohibiting of the nobility from commerce.
Before the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, she was the staple both of Europe and Asia, the broker for all the various sorts of merchandize, within the commerce of those two parts of the world; and likewise the bank of that opulence, by which it is carried on; in a word, with only the Pisans and Genoese, for competitors, she supplied all that Holland, England, and France do at present; allowing, however, for the increase produced by luxury.
This commerce made the greater figure, as it was carried on by the nobility, and the first houses of the state; which, being governed by the spirit of those houses, had in its wars, conquests, and treaties, its principal eye on the prosperity of trade.
What a difference between such a spirit, and that of the chief states of Europe, at the very same time! Among them, trade was left to the Jews and Lombards; the sovereigns, and every petty lord of our northern counties, looking on it as no more than an expedient, which they daily made use of, by heavy impositions, to enrich their treasury, and which they often drained by extraordinary burdens, of which history furnishes too many instances. These losses, however, the Lombards and Jews made up by the enormous usuries, which sovereigns used to connive at, in hopes of coming in for a share. Hence the general contempt and detestation for trade, or those who followed it. Hence, likewise, the principles then laid down by the schoolmen, concerning usury; principles in which all the revolutions in the several branches of commerce have not yet made any change, in nations, who in other respects are not wanting in perspicacity. How very different were the ideas of those dark ages, from those which the author of the
noblesse commercante
has placed in so strong a light! As the latter have gained ground in the rest of Europe, they have declined at Venice; which now makes no less difference between a nobleman and trader, than a native of France does between a peer and a shoeblack.
Towards the beginning of the fifteenth century, the plain old fashioned ideas being superceded by the chimera of military glory, the system of the republic underwent a great change; she aspired to conquests without any regard to commerce; and this romantic nation alienated the nobility from trade, which had ever made their most solid greatness; and the republic was brought to the very brink of ruin.
She has, indeed, preserved part of these ambitious conquests, but it was by efforts which have quite exhausted her. Yet, it is still that same trade which upholds the noble houses against the debasement they imagine inherent in commerce; the greater part of their money is either in trade or bank. Printing, originally set up at Venice, by
N. Jansson,
a Frenchman, though not flourishing in that prosperity, to which the abilities, industry, and disinterestedness of the
Manutii,
the
Giuntii,
the
Giolitos,
the
Bevilacquas,
&c. raised it, still makes one of the chief branches of the trade of Venice. Several noble houses place their money in this trade clandestinely, and with a view of lucre; distantly imitating the
Societa Palatina,
composed of the principal noblemen of Milan, who formed and openly keep it up, for the good of literature, and the improvement of the sciences; motions which the highest nobility need not conceal.
By means of the sumptuary laws, the manufactures of the Venetian territory answer its consumption; and, agreeable to the spirit of the government, they are rather solid than showy: no country in Europe makes better velvets, or silk stockings. Its looking-glasses and galloons, which were formerly vended all over Europe, now go only to the Levant. The reputation of its treacle is at its ancient height, which it owes to the apparatus and form with which it was composed, and under the eye of the very Signiory itself. Presents of this treacle are considered of value by the Venetian Ambassadors at the several courts of Europe. The wax, which Venice brings from Dalmatia, Greece, and all the Levant, employs many manufactories; where, after being whitened, it is made into candles, the very finest of which, is no more than about fifteen pence a pound. As to foreign commerce, there is scarce any thing done in it, except in fine linens and calicoes from Switzerland; and cotton, and dying drugs from the Levant, which it sends to Switzerland. This trade is chiefly in the hands of Swiss houses, settled at Venice. There is not, indeed, a nation without some considerable houses here. The trade of these houses begin with the country from whence they came; but in a little time declining, either for want of support, or the difficulty of intercourse, they give into the Venetian schemes, and generally turn to banking.
The bank of Venice, called the bank of the Rialto, says
Sharp,
is a very small office, and the whole business transacted by a few clerks, who sit in a small room, like an open booth, which faces the Exchange. The business of the bank may aptly be compared to that of a banker in England, where merchants deposit a large sum of money, and draw upon the shop for their disbursements. At Venice, every bill of exchange, above a hundred silver ducats, that is so many times three shillings and fourpence, must be paid at the bank. This method, in so large and commercial a city as London, would be very inconvenient; but here is very useful, as a transfer is finished in half a minute, which saves the trouble of weighing and examining the coin; a precaution absolutely necessary in this country, where many of the sequins are light; besides, that no chicanery can be practised in case the receipt is lost, the transfer being a sufficient proof of the payment. It may presumed too, that the republic has some private views in this ordinance, besides the benefit of the merchants; for should any sudden emergency of the states occur, they have a quantity of each in their hands for immediate use.
With respect to the state of religion, and the clergy, in the countries of the republic, the established religion is that of the Roman Catholic; but Greeks, Americans, and Jews, are allowed the public exercise of their worship; and Protestants, observing privacy, remain unmolested. At the head of the church government, is the Patriarch of Venice; the chief ecclesiastic in the republic. He is always selected from among the nobility, and chosen by the senate; and, though confirmed by the Pope, must, in other respects, be independent of the papal chair. He is Primate of Dalmatia, and other provinces on the continent; his power and dignity, however, are but of little weight, having only the disposal of two benefices in the city of Venice, and being little regarded by the clergy out of it; who depend immediately on the senate, or are chosen by their respective congregations.
Though this republic has long maintained a sort of independence from the court of Rome, having shewn themselves weary of the Jesuits, two hundred years before any other potentate dismissed them; while many of the Venetian populace followed them about, crying
andate, andate, niente pigliate, emai ritornate; begone, begone, steal nothing, never, never come back again;
and, although there is a patriarch here, who is attentive to keep his clergy from ever meddling with, or even mentioning affairs of state, as in such a case the republic would not scruple punishing them as laymen; yet has Venice kept St.
Peter
's boat from sinking more than once, when she saw the Pope's territories endangered, or his sovereignty insulted; nor is there any city more eminent for the decorum, with which divine service is administered, or the decent behaviour of individuals, when any sacred office is performing. She has ever behaved like a true christian potentate, keeping her faith firm, and her honour scrupulously clear, in all treaties and conventions with other states; fewer instances being given of Venetian falshood or treachery towards neighbouring nations, than of any other European power.
Venice, say some writers, is the paradise of Monks. They go masqued during the carnival, frequent the theatres, keep mistresses; and do, in short, just what they please. Of all the catholic countries, there is none where ecclesiastical discipline is more relaxed. Several of the bishops have, in vain, attempted to reform these scandalous abuses. It is, however, asserted, perhaps not without foundation, that government opposes such commendable projects, that the clergy may not, by these means, have too great influence over the minds of the people.
CHAP. VIII.
Of Venetian Dalmatia.
IN the fifteenth century, the Venetians reduced the whole kingdom of Dalmatia; though they have since been dispossessed by the Turks of a considerable part. At present, the Hungarians, Venetians, Ragusans, and Turks, share it among them. That part of Dalmatia which belongs to the Venetians, says
Busching,
abounds in castles and fortified places, but few are of modern structure. It comprehends the province of Murlachia, part of the ancient Liburnia; a country full of high mountains, extending from Zengh to Zara; being in length fifteen German miles, and in breadth between five and six. Some of the inhabitants of this part of Dalmatia are, indeed, under the protection of Hungary; others are descendants of the Venetians; but there is hardly a place of any strength in Dalmatia, which is not governed by the Murlachians. Dalmatians use the Sclavonian language and customs, and profess the Roman Catholic religion.
The rivers in Dalmatia have no long course, but they are mostly navigable. The country is, as it were, entirely strewed with mountains, but these not unfruitful; olives, vines, myrtles, and a great variety of palatable and wholesome vegetables growing upon them, besides treasures of gold and silver ore within them. It has also many fertile plains; and, besides a sufficiency of horned cattle, feeds largo flocks of sheep. The air is temperate and pure.
The principal towns, in this part of Dalmatia, are Zara, Sibenico, Spalatro, Trace, and Ragusa; the latter, a kind of independent city, with a small territory, under the protection of the republic of Venice.
Zara, the principal town in Venetian Dalmatia, is surrounded on all sides by the sea, except a communication it has eastward with the continent, by means of a draw-bridge, commanded by a fort. It is reckoned one of the best fortifications in Dalmatia, and deemed almost impregnable. The citadel is divided from the town, by a very deep ditch, hewn out of the rock. The harbour, which is to the North, is capacious, safe, and well guarded. The rain is carefully preserved in cisterns, to supply the want of fresh water. In the castle resides the governor of Dalmatia; whose office is only triennial. It was formerly only a bishop's see; but, in 1114, an archbishop was established here. Near the church, which the Greeks call St.
Helia,
are two handsome fluted columns, of the Corinthian order; supposed to have been part of the temple of
Juno.
This place was heretofore much more considerable, than at present; the circumference of the walls being now but two miles, and the number of the inhabitants, not above 6,000. There are very fine paintings in the churches, done by the best masters; and they pretend to have the body of St.
Simeon,
which was brought from Judea, and is kept in a shrine, with a crystal before it.
Sibenico is likewise a very strong town, on the gulph of Venice, twenty-five miles south-east of Zara; having four citadels, and a very large harbour. The cathedral of St.
John,
in the castle, is a fine marble structure. Ever since the beginning of the fifteenth century, it has been under the dominion of the Venetians, though it has been no less than four times besieged by the Turks. This town, says
Abbe Fortis,
is famous for the number of men of letters it has produced.
Spalatro is a rich, populous, and strong town, on the same coast, thirty-seven miles South-east of Sebenico, with a good harbour; and is the see of an archbishop, who is primate of Dalmatia and Croatia. It is built upon the ruins of the castle of
Dioclesian,
and its walls make two-thirds of those of the city; its temple likewise is the cathedral church. This place is the staple where all merchandize, passing from Turkey into Italy, must be transported. Near the harbour, which is very large and deep, is erected a very large
Lazaretto,
for performing quarantine. Among the Roman antiquities to be seen here,
Dioclesian's
palace is particularly worth viewing. This city, ever since the year 1420, has continued firm to the Venetians.
Trace is another strong and populous town, on the coast of Dalmatia, belonging to the republic. It is situated in a small island, joined to the main land by a long bridge of wood; and to the isle of Bua, by another of stone. It lies fifteen miles east of Spalatro. Nothing can be pleasanter than the situaation of Trace: the north-side is covered with beautiful gardens; and, on the island of Bua, it has very very fine suburbs. It is the residence of the Venetian Proveditor, who bears the title of Count. The harbour, which is formed by a bay, has depth of water enough for the largest ships; which ride there sheltered by two capes. It was an ancient Roman colony of the Emperor
Claudius;
and, so early as the year 997, put itself under the protection of Venice; on which it has been continually dependent, ever since the year 1420; though not without many changes and disastrous revolutions.
Ragusa is not very large in circumference, but it is, nevertheless, well built; and is the seat of a republic, and of an archbishop's see. It extends towards the sea; and both the city and harbour are defended by fort St.
Lorenzo.
Were the rock of of Chiroma, which lies in the sea, and belongs to the Venetians, fortified, it would be impregnable. The air is wholesome, but the soil so barren, that the inhabitants receive the greatest part of their necessaries from the neighbouring Turkish provinces. The circumjacent islands are all fertile, pleasant, well inhabited, and embellished with fine towns, stately palaces, and beautiful gardens. This city lies one hundred and two miles South-east of Spolatro.
The government, of this city and state, is aristocratic; and formed nearly after the model of that of Venice. It is in the hands of the nobility; who are, at present, greatly diminished. The chief of the republic, who is stiled rector, is changed every month, and elected by scrutiny, or lot. During his administration, he lives in the palace, wears a ducal habit; namely, a long silk robe, with white sleeves, and his salary is five ducats a month; but if he is one of the
Pregadi,
he receives a ducat per day. Next to him is the council of ten. In the great council all noblemen, above twenty years of age, are admitted; and, in this council also, are chosen the persons who constitute the board of the Pregadi. These last superintend all affairs, civil and military; dispose of all employments, and receive and send envoys. The revenues of the republic are said to have amounted, formerly, to a ton of gold; but, being unable to defend itself, they have procured several protectors; the principal of whom is the Grand Signior. It is said, they pay tribute to the Turks out of fear; to the Venetians, out of hatred; and to the Pope, Emperor, Spain, and Naples, out of respect, and political views. The tribute to the Porte, with the expence of the annual embassy, is about 20,000 zequins. The Turks are very serviceable to them; bringing hither all kinds of necessaries, especially fire-arms and military stores.
They keep so watchful an eye over their freedom, that the gates of the city of Ragusa are allowed to be open only a few hours in the day. They wholly profess the Catholic religion, but the Greek, Armenian, and Turkish persuasions, are tolerated among them for convenience. The language, chiefly in use among the Ragusans, is the Sclavonian; but the greater part of them speak also the Italian. The citizens are, almost to a man, traders; and this place distinguishes itself by the fineness of its manufactures. Silk is allowed to be worn here only by the rector, nobles, and doctors.
CHAP. IX.
Of the Customs and Manners of the Morlacchi.
A Pretty full account of the singular customs and manners of the Morlacchi, a race of people inhabiting the mountains of Venetian Dalmatia, and until the Abbe
Fortis
penetrate that country, but little known to the rest of Europe, will, we flatter ourselves, not appear uninteresting to our readers.
There is not only a great difference in dialect, dress, disposition, and customs, between the maritime and transalpine inhabitants of Dalmatia, says Abbe
Fortis;
but even a remarkable diversity, among the Morlacchi themselves, in several districts; derived, perhaps, from the different countries from whence they come. The inhabitants of Cotar are generally fair, with blue eyes, a broad face, and flat nose; but those of Vergoraz have dark coloured hair, a long face, tawny colour, and tall stature. The qualities of their mind are also as different, as those of the body; for, the Morlacchi of Cotar are generally mild, respectful, and tractable; but those of Vergoraz are surly, proud, bold, and enterprizing. They have also a strong inclination to theft; owing, in part, to their situation among barren and inaccessible mountains. Among the artful and bold strokes of knavery, which they tell of one of these
Vergozani,
the following is characteristic. The rogue was at a fair; and a countryman having bought a copper kettle, laid it down, together with his bundle, just by his side; the Vergoroon, who stood hard by, took up the kettle, while the peasant was talking to an acquaintance, and set it on his head, without stirring from his place; the other, having finished his conference, turned about to take up his things, but the kettle was gone; and asking him, who had it on his head, if he had not seen somebody carry it off, he was answered: "Truly friend, I was not minding these things, but if you had put your kettle on your head, as you see I did, you would not have lost it." Yet, notwithstanding these mischievous tricks, which are frequent enough, a stranger may travel securely among them, and will be hospitably treated.
The greatest danger is from the
Haiduks,
of whom great numbers have retreated among the woods, and caves, of those dreadful mountains on the confines. They lead their life among wolves, wandering from one precipice to another, agitated by continual fears and suspicions, exposed to the severity of the seasons; and, often deprived of the necessaries of life, languish in the most solitary hideous caverns. Were such men to commit acts of violence, irritated by the constant view of their miserable situation, it would be no wonder; yet they seldom disturb the tranquility of others, and prove always faithful guides to travellers. The chief objects of their rapine are oxen and sheep, to supply themselves with food and shoes. It happens sometimes, in their extreme necessity, that the Haiduks go in parties to the shepherds cottages, and readily demand something to eat, which they immediately take by force, if the least hesitation is made; though they seldom meet with a refusal, or resistance, as their resolution and fury are well known to be equal to their wants, and the savage life they lead. Four Haiduks are not afraid to assault a caravan of fifteen or twenty Turks; and generally plunder and put them to flight. When a Haiduk happens to be taken by the Panduri, they do not bind him as our sbirri are used to do, says Abbe
Fortis;
but, untying the strings of his breeches, they fall down on his heels, and prevent a possibility of escape.
The morals of a Morlach, says the Abbe, at a distance from the sea-coast, and garrisons, are very different from those of the Italians. The sincerity, trust, and honesty, of those poor people, not only in contracts, but in all the ordinary actions of their life, would be called simplicity and weakness among us. The Morlach, naturally hospitable and generous, opens his poor cottage to the stranger, and serves him, to the utmost of his power, without demanding, nay, often obstinately refusing, the least recompence; and I have more than once, adds the Abbe, got a dinner from one of those men, who knew nothing about me, had never before seen me, and could not expect ever to see me again.
The Morlacchi are extremely sensible of mild treatment; and, when they meet with it, are ready to perform every possible service, and to become cordial friends. Their hospitality is equally conspicuous among the poor, as among the more opulent. The rich prepares a roasted lamb, or sheep; and the poor, with equal cordiality, gives his turkey, milk, honey, or whatever else he has. Nor is their generosity confined to strangers; but generally extends itself to all who are in want.
When a Morlach is on a journey, and comes to lodge at a friend's house, the eldest daughter of the family, or the new married bride, if there happens to be one, receives and kisses him when he alights from his horse, or at the door of the house. But a foreigner is rarely favoured with these female civilities; on the contrary, the women, if they are young, hide themselves, and keep out of his way. Perhaps more than one violation of the laws of hospitality has made them thus reserved to strangers.
While there is any thing to eat in the house of those villagers, the poor of the neighbourhood are welcome to partake of it; and hence it is, that no Morlach ever humbles himself to ask alms of a passenger. I, indeed, says Abbe
Fortis,
have often been forced to ask something from poor shepherds, but I always found them liberal; and many times, in travelling through the fields, in the heat of summer, I have met poor reapers, who, of their own accord, presented me with their flasks to drink, and offered me a part of their rustic provisions, with an affecting cordiality.
The Morlacchi, in general, have little notion of domestic oeconomy; and readily consume, in a week, as much as would be sufficient for several months, when any occasion of merriment presents itself. Yet, the Morlach is a great economist, in the use of his wearing apparel; for, rather than spoil his new cap, he takes it off, let it rain ever so hard, and goes bareheaded in the storm. In the same manner he treats his shoes, if the road be dirty, and they not very old. Nothing but an absolute impossibility hinders a Morlach from being punctual; and if he cannot repay the money he borrowed, at the appointed time, he carries a small present to his creditor, and requests a longer term. Thus it happens, sometimes, that from term to term, and present to present, he pays double what he owed, without reflecting on it.
Friendship, that among other nations is so subject to change, on the slightest motives, is lasting among the Morlacchi. They have even made it a kind of religious point, and tie the sacred bond at the foot of the altar. The Sclavonian ritual contains a particular benediction, for the solemn union of two male, or two female friends, in the presence of the congregation. I was present, says Abbe
Fortis,
at the union of two young women, who were made
Posestre,
in the church of Penessich. The satisfaction that sparkled in their eyes, when the ceremony was performed, gave a convincing proof, that delicacy of sentiments can lodge in minds not formed, or rather not corrupted, by that society, which we call civilized. The male friends, thus united, are called
Pobratimi;
and the male sisters,
Posestreme;
which means half brothers and half sisters. The duties of the
Pobratimi
are to assist each other, in every case of need or danger; to revenge mutual wrongs, and the like. The enthusiasm is often carried so far as to risk, and even to lose their life for the
Pobratimi.
If discord happens to arise between two friends, it is mentioned all over the country, as a scandalous novelty; and there have been some examples of it, of late years, to the great affliction of the old Morlacchi; who attribute the depravation of their countrymen, to their intercourse with the Italians.
The natural vivacity, and enterprizing spirit of the Morlacchi, qualify them to succeed in any kind of employment. In particular, they make excellent soldiers; and, towards the end of the last century, performed signal service under the brave Venetian General
Dalfino;
who conquered an important tract of country belonging to the Porte, chiefly by their means. They also become very expert in the direction of mercantile business; and easily learn to read and write, even after they are grown up.
Notwithstanding their excellent disposition to learn every art, the Morlacchi have the most imperfect notions of husbandry; and are very unskilful in the management of their cattle, and in curing diseases. They have a singular veneration for old customs; and little care has hitherto been taken, either to remove their prejudices, or to teach them better methods. Their ploughs, and other rural utensils, seem to be of the most rude invention. They make cheese, butter, and cream-cheese too, in their way. The taylor's art is confined to ancient and unalterable patterns, which are always cut from the same kind of cloth; so that any difference in the usual breadth would quite disconcert a Morlach taylor. They have some notions of dying, and their colours are not despicable. Their black is made of the bark of the ash-tree, laid in warm water for eight days, with some iron dross, which they gather from the blacksmiths forges; they then make use of this water, when cold, to give the colour. They also extract a fine blue from the infusion of wood, dried in the shade, in a lie of ashes, well purified; they let this mixture boil several hours, and tinge the cloth in the water, when cold.
Scodanus,
by them called
Rez,
gives yellow and brown; they also obtain a yellow from the
Evonimus,
known there by the name of
Puzzolina.
Almost all the Morlach women are skilful in works of embroidery, and knitting. Their embroidery is curious, and exactly the same on both sides. They also make a sort of knit, or net-work, very curious; which they chiefly use as a kind of buskin to their slippers and brogues. They are in no want of looms to weave their serge, and other coarse cloth; but the women have not much time to apply to these things, their offices among the Morlacchi, not admitting sedentary labours.
In some of their villages they make earthern ware, very coarse indeed, but very durable.
The Morlachs, whether they happen to be of the Roman, or of the Greek church, have very singular ideas about religion; and the ignorance of their teachers daily augments this monstrous evil. They are as firmly persuaded of the reality of witches, fairies, enchantments, nocturnal apparitions, and sorcilage, as if they had seen a thousand examples of them. Nor do they make the least doubt about the existence of Vampires; and attribute to them, as in Transilvania, the sucking the blood of infants. Therefore, when a man dies, suspected of becoming a Vampire, or
Vutrodlach,
as they call it, they cut his hams, and prick his whole body with pins; pretending, that after this operation, he cannot walk about. There are even instances of Morlacchi, who, imagining they may possibly thirst for children's blood after death, intreat their heirs, and sometimes oblige them, to promise to treat them as a vampire, when they die.
The boldest Haiduk would fly trembling from the apparition of a spectre, ghost, phantom, or such like goblins as the heated imagination of credulous and pre-possessed people never fail to see. Nor are they ashamed, when ridiculed for this terror; but answer much in the words of
Pindar:
—"Fear that proceeds from spirits, causes even the sons of the gods to fly." The women, as may be naturally supposed, are a hundred times more timorous and visionary than the men; and some of them, by frequently hearing themselves called witches, actually believe they are so. The old witches are acquainted with many spells; and one of the most frequent is, to transfer the milk of other people's cows to their own.
A most perfect discord reigns in Morlacchi, as it generally does in other parts, between the Latin and Greek communion, which their respective priests fail not to foment, and tell a thousand little scandalous stories of each other. The churches of the Latins are poor, and shamefully ill kept. I have seen, says the Abbe, the curate of a Morlach village, sitting on the ground in the church yard, to hear the confessions of women, on their knees, by his side; a strange picture indeed! but a proof of the innocent manners of these good people, who have the most profound veneration for their spiritual pastors, and a total dependence on them; who, for their part, frequently make use of a discipline rather military, and correct the bodies of their offending flock with the cudgel. Perhaps this particular is carried to an abuse, as well as that of public penance, which they pretend to inflict after the manner of the ancient church. Farther, through the silly credulity of these poor mountaineers, they draw illicit profits, by selling certain superstitious scrolls, and other scandalous merchandize of that kind.
Innocence, and the natural liberty of pastoral ages, says
Fortis,
are still preserved among the Morlacchi. Pure cordiality of sentiment is not there restrained by other regards, and displays itself without any distinction of circumstances. A handsome young Morlach girl, who meets a man of her district, on the road, kisses him affectionately, without the least immodest thought; and, I have seen all the women and girls, all the young men and old, kissing one another as they came into the church-yard on a holiday; so that they looked as if they had been all belonging to one family. I have often observed the same thing on the road; and, at the fairs, in the maritime towns, where the Morlacchi came to sell their commodities. In times of feasting and merriment, some other little liberties are taken, which we should not reckon decent, but which are not minded among them; and when they are told of it, they answer, it is only toying, and means nothing. From this toying, however, their amours often take their beginning, and frequently end seriously, when the two lovers are once agreed. For it very rarely happens, that a Morlacco carries off a girl against her will, or dishonours her; and were such attempts made, the young woman would, no doubt, be able to defend herself, the women in that country being generally very little less robust than the men. But the custom is, for the woman herself to appoint the time and place of being carried off; and she does so, in order to extricate herself from other suitors, from whom she may have received some love-token; such as a brass ring, a little knife, or such like trifles.
The dress of the Morlach women is different in different parts of the country; but it appears every where strange to an European. That of the unmarried women is the most complex and whimsical, in respect to the ornaments of the head; for, when married, they are not allowed to wear any thing else but a handkerchief, either white or coloured, tied about it. The girls wear a scarlet cap, to which they commonly hang a veil, falling down on their shoulders. The better sort adorn their caps with strings of silver coins; they have ear-rings of very curious work, and small silver chains, with the figures of half moons fastened to the end of them. The principal merit of these caps, which constitute the good taste, as well as vanity of the Morlach young ladies, is to attend and fix the eyes of all who are near them, by the multitude of ornaments, and the noise they make, on the least motion of their heads. In some districts they fix tufts of various coloured feathers, resembling two horns on their caps; at others, tremulous plumes of spun-glass; and in others, artificial flowers, which they purchase in the sea-port towns; and it must be confessed, that in the variety of these capricious and barbarous ornaments, sometimes a fancy, not inelegant, is displayed. Their holiday shifts are embroidered with red silk, and sometimes with gold, which they work themselves, while they attend their flocks; and, it is surprizing to see how nicely their work is executed. Both old and young women wear about their necks large strings of round glass beads, of various sizes and colours; and many rings of brass, tin, or silver, on their fingers. Their bracelets are of leather, covered with wrought tin, or silver; and they embroider their stomachers, or adorn them with beads, or shells. But the use of stays is unknown; nor do they put iron or whalebone in the stomacher. A broad woollen girdle surrounds their petticoat; which is commonly decked with shells of a blue colour, and therefore called
Modrina.
Their gown, as well as petticoat, is a kind of serge; and both reach near to the ancle; the gown is bordered with scarlet, and called
Sadak.
They use no
Modrina
in summer; and only wear the
Sadak,
without sleeves, over a linen petticoat, or shift. The girls always wear red stockings, and their shoes are, like those of the men, called
Opanke.
The sole is of undressed oxhide, and the upper part, of sheep's skin thongs knitted, which they call
apute;
and these they fasten above the ankles, something like the ancient cothurnus.
The unmarried women, even of the richest families, are not permitted to wear any other sort of shoes; though, after marriage, they may, if they please, lay aside the
opanke,
and use Turkish slippers. The girls keep their hair tressed under their caps; but, when married, they let it fall dishevelled on their breast; sometimes they tie it under the chin; and always have medals, beads, or bored coins, in the Tartar or American mode, twisted amongst it. An unmarried woman, who falls under the imputation of want of chastity, runs the risk of having her red cap torn off publicly in church, by the curate, and her hair cut by some relation in token of infamy. Hence if any of them happen to fall into an illicit amour, they commonly, of their own accord, lay aside the badge of virginity, and remove into another part of the country.
CHAP. X.
Of their Marriages, Funerals, &c.
NOTHING is more common among the Morlacchi, than marriages concluded between the the old people of the respective families; especially where the parties live at a great distance, and neither see, nor know each other; and the ordinary motive of these alliances is, the ambition of being related to a numerous and powerful family, famous for having produced valliant men. The father of the future bridegroom, or some other near relation, of mature age, goes to ask the young woman, or rather a young woman of such a family, not having commonly any determinate choice. Upon this all the girls in the house are shewn to him, and he chuses which pleases him best; though generally respecting the rights of seniority. A denial, in such a case, is very rare; nor does the father of the maid enquire much into the circumstances of the family that asks her. Sometimes a daughter of the master is given in marriage to the servant, or tenant, as was usual in the patriarchal times. On these occasions, however, the Morlacchi girls enjoy a privilege, which ours would also wish to have; as, in justice, they certainly ought. For he who acts by proxy, having obtained his suit, is obliged to go and bring the bridegroom; and if, on seeing each other, the young people are reciprocally content, then the marriage is concluded, but not otherwise. In some parts, it is the custom for the bride to go and see the house and family of her proposed husband, before she gives a definitive answer; and if the place, or persons, are disagreeable to her, she is at liberty to break the contract. But if she be contented, she returns to her father's house, escorted by the bridegroom and nearest relations. There the marriage day is fixed; on which the bridegroom comes to the bride's house, attended by all his friends of greatest note, who, on this occasion, are called
Svati,
and are all armed, and on horseback, in their holiday cloaths, with a peacock's feather in their cap, which is the distinctive ornament used by those who are invited to weddings. The company goes armed to repulse any attack, or ambush, that might be intended to disturb the feast. For in old times these encounters were not unfrequent, according to the records of many national heroic songs. In one of these is told the story of
Janco Vojvod,
of Sebigne, cotemporary with the famous
George Castriolich,
named
Scanderberg,
and betrothed to
Jagna,
of Temeswar; whose brothers, being not his friends, when he came to conclude the marriage, engaged him in the punctilio of performing several feats, upon condition, that if he succeeded, he was to have the bride; if not, he was to lose his life. These were, as the song relates, that he was to pierce an apple, stuck on the point of a spear, with his dart, at a certain distance; then he was to spring over nine horses, placed one beside another, at one leap; and, lastly, to discover his future spouse, among nine young women, all covered with veils.
Janco,
it seems, was a valiant soldier, but not expert in such trials of skill; however, his nephew undertook them in his place, and no objection was made, as they say, is the custom in a certain island, to hire one to fight for another at a boxing match. The expedient made use of by
Zeculo, Janco's
nephew, to know the bride among the other nine young women, was singular, and merits a prolongation of our digression. He opened his mantle on the ground, threw a handful of gold rings on it, and then gallantly addressed the ladies as follows: "Lovely maid, who art destined to be
Janco
's wife, do thou pick up these gold rings and wear them; but if any other dares to touch one of them, I will cut off her arm at a blow." The nine young women were very naturally afraid of the danger, and did not chuse to advance; so
Janco
's bride collected the rings, and thus the nuptial games were finished. When, upon trials of this nature, one of the parties found himself excluded, and another preferred, as he thought, unjustly, he commonly had recourse to arms for redress; and much blood was often shed in those combats; and many tombs of the ancient Sclavi are still to be seen in the woods, and desert places of Morlacchi, whereon these feuds are engraved in coarse bas-relief.
The bride is conducted to a church, veiled, and surrounded by the
Svati
on horseback; and the sacred ceremony is performed amidst the noise of muskets, pistols, barbarous shouts, and acclamations, which continue till she returns to her father's house, or to that of her husband, if not far off.
The first day's entertainment is sometimes made at the bride's house, but generally at the bridegroom's. The
Domachin,
or head of the house, comes out to meet his daughter-in-law, and a child is handed to her, before she alights, to caress it; and if there happens to be none in the house, the child is borrowed from one of the neighbours. When she alights, she kneels down, and kisses the threshold. Then the mother-in-law, or in her place some other female relation, presents a corn sieve, full of different kinds of grain, nuts, almonds, and other small fruit, which the bride scatters upon the Svati, by handfuls, behind her back. The bride does not sit at the great table the first day, but has one apart for herself. The bridegroom sits at table with the Svati; but in all that day, consecrated to the matrimonial union, he must neither unloose, nor cut any thing whatever. The Knum, or Sponsor, carries his meat, and cuts his bread. The Domachin gives the toasts. Generally the Bukkara, a very large wooden cup, goes round, first to the Saint, protector of the family; next to the prosperity of the holy faith; and sometimes, to a name the most sublime and venerable. The most extravagant abundance reigns at their feasts; and each of the Svati contributes, by sending a share of provisions. The dinner begins with fruit and cheese, and the soup comes last; just contrary to our custom. All sorts of domestic fowls, kid, lamb, and sometimes venison, are heaped in prodigious quantities on their tables; but very rarely a Morlacco eats veal; and perhaps never, unless he has been persuaded to do it out of his own country. This abhorrence to calves flesh is very ancient among the Morlacchi.
S. Jerome
takes notice of it; and
Tomeo Marnovich,
a Bosnian wr
er, of the last century, says, that the Dalmatians, uncorrupted by the vices of strangers, abstained from calves flesh, as an unclean food, even to his days. The women relations, if they are invited, never dine at table with the men; it being an established custom for them to dine by themselves. After dinner, they pass the rest of the day in dancing, singing ancient songs, and in games of dexterity, or of art and fancy; and in the evening, at a convenient hour after supper, the three ritual healths having first gone round, the Knum accompanies the bridegroom to the matrimonial apartment; which commonly is the cellar, or the stable. If there happens to be any bed prepared, better than straw, he leads them to it; and, having untied the bride's girdle, he causes them both to undress each other reciprocally. It is not long since the Knum was obliged to undress the bride entirely; but that custom is now out of use; and, instead of it, he has the privilege of kissing her as often as he pleases, whenever he meets her. When they are both undressed, the Knum retires, and stands listening at the door, if there be a door. It is his business to announce the consummation of the marriage, which he does by discharging a pistol, and is answered by many of the company. The next day, the bride, without her veil, and virginal cap, dines at table with the Svati, and is forced to hear the coarse equivocal jests of her indelicate, and, sometimes, intoxicated company.
These nuptial feasts continue three, six, eight, or more days, according to the ability or prodigal disposition of the family where they are held. The new married wife gets no inconsiderable profit in these days of joy. And it usually amounts to much more than all the portion she brings with her; which often consists of nothing but her own cloaths, and perhaps a cow; nay, it happens sometimes, that the parents, instead of giving money with their daughter, get something from the bridegroom by way of price. The bride carries water every morning to wash the hands of her guests, as long as the feasting lasts; and each of them throws a small piece of money into the bason, after performing that function; which is a very rare one among them, excepting on such occasions. The brides are also permitted to raise other little contributions among the Svati, by hiding their shoes, caps, knives, or some other part of their equipage; which they are obliged to ransom by a piece of money, according as the company rates it. And, besides all these voluntary or extorted contributions, already mentioned, each guest must give some present to the new married wife, at taking leave; and then she also distributes some trifles in return, which commonly consists in shirts, caps, handkerchiefs, and such like.
The nuptial rites are almost precisely the same through all the country, inhabited by the Morlacchi; and those in use among the peasants, and common people of the sea coast of Dalmatia, Istria, and the islands, differ but little from them. Yet, among these particular varieties, there is one of the island Zlarine, near Sebenico, remarkable enough; for there the principal guest, (who may naturally be supposed drunk at that hour), must, at one blow, with his naked broad sword, strike the bride's crown of flowers off her head, when she is ready to go to bed. And, in the island of Pago, there is
ustom more comical, and less dangerous; but equally savage and brutal, After the marriage contract is settled, and the bridegroom comes to conduct the bride to church, her father, or mother, in delivering her over to him, makes an exaggerated enumeration of her ill qualities; "Know, since thou wilt have her, that she is good for nothing, ill-natured, obstinate, &c." On which the bridegroom, affecting an angry look, turns to the young woman, with an "Ah! since it is so, I will teach you better manners;" and then regales her with a blow or a kick, or some similar piece of gallantry, which is by no means figurative. And, it seems in general, that the Morlach women, and perhaps the greatest part of the Dalmatians, the in habitants of the cities excepted, do not dislike a beating now and then, either from their husbands, or lovers.
In the neighbourhood of Dernish, the women are obliged, during the first year after their marriage, to kiss all their national acquaintance who come to the house; but, after the first year, they are dispensed from that compliment; and, indeed, they become so intolerably nasty, that they are no longer fit to practise it. Perhaps, the mortifying manner, in which they are treated by their husbands and relations, is, at the same time, both the cause and effect of this shameful neglect of their persons. When a Morlach husband mentions his wife, he always premises, by your leave, or begging your pardon. And, when the husband has a bedstead, the wife must sleep on the floor near it.
The pregnancy and births, of the Morlacch women, would be thought very extraordinary among us, where the ladies suffer so much, notwithstanding all the care and circumspection used before, and after labour. On the contrary, a Morlach woman neither changes her food, nor interrupts her daily fatigue, on account of her pregnancy; and is frequently delivered in the fields, or on the road, by herself; and takes the infant, washes it in the first water she finds, carries it home, and returns the day after to her usual labour, or to feed her flocks. The custom of the nation is invariable in washing the new born infants in cold water. The little creatures, thus carelessly treated in their tenderest moments, are afterwards wrapped in miserable rags, where they remain three or four months under the same ungentle treatment; and, when that term is elapsed, they are set at liberty, and left to crawl about the cottage, and before the door, till they learn to walk upright by themselves; and, at the same time, acquire that singular degree of strength, and health, with which the Morlacchi are endowed; and are able, without the least inconvenience, to expose their naked breasts to the severest frost and snow. The infants are allowed to suck their mother's milk whilst she has any; or till she is with child again; and, if that should not happen for three, four, or six years, they continue all that time to receive nourishment from the breast. The prodigious length of the breasts of the Morlacch women is somewhat exraordinary; for, it is very certain, that they can give the teat to their children over their shoulder, or under their arms. They let the boys run without breeches, in a shirt that reaches only to the knee, till the age of thirteen or fourteen; following the custom of the Bosnians, subject to the Porte, where no capitation tax is paid for the boys, till they wear breeches; they being considered, before that time, as children not capable of labouring, or of earning their bread. On the occasion of births, and especially of the first, all the relations and friends send presents, of eatables, to the woman in childbed, or rather to the woman delivered; and the family makes a supper of all these presents together. The women do not enter the church till forty days after child-birth.
The Morlacchi pass their youth in the woods, attending their flocks and herds; and, in that life of quiet, and leisure, they often become dexterous in carving with a simple knife; they make wooden cups, and whistles, adorned with fanciful bas-reliefs, which are not void of merit; and, at least, shews the genius of the people.
Milk, coagulated in various ways, is the ordinary nourishment of the Morlacchi; they sometimes give it an agreeable acid by the infusion of vinegar, whereby the curd becomes extremely refreshing; and the whey is their favourite common drink; nor is it at all unpleasant to a stranger's taste. When a guest arrives unexpectedly, their readiest and best dish is new cheese, fried with butter They are not much accustomed to bread, baked after our manner, but they make cakes of millet, barley, Indian corn, and sometimes of wheat; which they bake, or toast on the hearth every day, for present use; but wheaten bread is hardly ever seen in the cottages of the poor. They make a large provision of cabbages, like those used in Germany; and roots, and all kinds of esculent herbs, which they find in the woods, or in the fields, serve them for a cheap and salutary diet. But garlic, and shalots, are the food most universally pleasing to that people, next to roast meat, which is their most luxurious dish. It is reasonable to think, that the constant use of these plants, corrects, in part, the bad quality of their water, and contributes to keep them long, healthy, and robust. Nothing is more common in that country, than to see very old men strong, active, and lively, to an extraordinary degree; and this, says Abbe
Fortis,
I am inclined to think, is partly owing to the garlic, and their regular vegetable diet.
A Morlach, in easy circumstances, has no other bed than a coarse blanket, made of goat's hair, and of Turkish manufacture; very few of the richest people in the country have such a piece of luxurious furniture, as a bed after our fashion; and, there are not many, who have so much as a bedstead; which, however, when they happen to get made in their rough manner, they sleep in between two great hair blankets, without sheets, or any other bedding. The greatest part of the inhabitants content themselves with the bare ground, wrapt in the usual blanket, and only sometimes a little straw under it. But in summer they choose to sleep in the open air; perhaps, to be delivered from the domestic insects. Their household furniture consists of a few, and simple articles; such as shepherds and peasants, little advanced in arts, require. Their houses are not often covered with tiles or slates; and, when they have any beams intended to support a second floor, the families wardrobe is placed on them; which, it may be imagined, is well provided, where there is so much magnificence; yet, the ladies sleep on the floor, even in such noble houses. I have been lodged in one of them, says the Abbe, where several of these women were grinding corn till past midnight; screaming certain diabolical songs, in the same place where I was laid to sleep; and where ten others were stretched on the ground, and actually fast asleep, notwithstanding their frightful vociferation. The Morlacchi, who have little or no correspondence with sea-towns, and are at a great distance from them, have seldom any other houses, cottages covered with straw, or zimble; for so they call a kind of laths, used instead of tiles. The animals inhabit the same cottage, divided from the masters, by a slight partition, made of twigs, and plaistered with clay, and the dung of cattle; the walls of the cottage are either of the same materials, or of large stones, laid one upon another, without cement.
The fire-place stands in the middle of the cottage, and the smoke finds its way out at the door; there being rarely any other aperture. Hence, every thing within these wretched habitations is ornamented with black, and loathsome with smoak; not excepting the milk, which forms a great part of their sustenance, and of which they are very liberal to strangers. Their cloaths, persons, and every thing, in short, contract the same smoaky smell. The whole family sits round this fire-place, in the cold season; and, when they have supped, lay themselves down to sleep in the same place where they sat at supper; for, in every cottage they have not even benches to sit, and to lie upon. They burn butter instead of oil in their lamps; but, for the most part, they use pieces of cleft fir, in lieu of candles; the smoke of which, sometimes tinges their mustachoes curiously. A very few rich Morlacchi have houses in the Turkish fashion, with stools, and some few of our moveables; but, in general, the richest of them live but a savage kind of life. Although they have no idea of cleanliness in their habitations, yet, in one respect, they are nicer than we are; nor do they fail to reproach us on that account, and call us barbarous, and beastly; and, it is a real fact, that no man, nor woman, of that nation, let the disorder be ever so severe, or painful, was ever known to ease nature in the cottage; even dying persons are carried out to perform that operation in the open air; and, if a stranger should, through ignorance, or contempt, pollute their house in that manner, even in the night, he would scarcely escape with his life, and certainly not without very ill treatment.
A Morlacco cloaths himself with great plainness and economy. The
opanke
serve for shoes, both in men and women; and under them they wear a short woollen stocking, which reaches above the ankle, and joins to the breeches, whereby all the leg is covered. The breeches are of coarse white serge, and they draw them tight about the waist, like a purse, by means of a woollen string. Their shirt is very short, and over it they wear a short doublet; and, in winter, they add a kind of short cloak, made of very coarse red cloth. On their head, they wear a red cloth cap, and above it, a sort of cylindrical turban. They shave their heads, leaving only a small tuft behind, like the Poles and Tartars. They bind their loins with a strong reticular fillet of woollen yarn, and sometimes of silk; and in this fillet, or bandage, and their breeches, they carry all their necessary implements; such as one or two pistols stuck in behind, and before; a very large knife, with the handle of brass, set round with false stones. This knife is often made fast to a light brass chain, rolled about the bandages; and near it is placed a horn, with grease for their arms, or for themselves. Next follows a little bag, with their tinder-box, and money, if they have any; and then their tobacco in a dried bladder. The tobacco pipe is placed behind, the reed stuck in below their shirt, and the bowl appears without. No Morlacco ever goes out of doors without his gun upon his shoulders. The chiefs of the nation, however, are better dressed.
The Morlacchi have their rustic assemblies, especially in houses where there are several young women; and, in these, the memory of ancient national stories is perpetuated. A musician always attends these meetings, and sings the old
Pisme,
or songs, accompanying them with an instrument, called
guzla,
which has but one string, composed of many horse hairs. The tune, to which these heroic songs are sung, is extremely mournful, and monotonous; besides, they bring the sound a little through the nose, which agrees perfectly well with their instrument; the verses, of the most ancient traditional songs, are of ten syllables, not rhymed. Their poetry does not want strength of expression; but the smallest ray of imagination rarely appears in it; and the little that is attempted, is seldom happy. Yet these songs have great effect on the minds of the hearers, who are at pains to get them by heart. A Morlacco will travel along the desert mountains singing, especially in the night time, the actions of ancient Sclavi kings, and barons, or some tragic event; and, if another happens to be travelling on a neighbouring mountain, he repeats the same verse, when the other has sung it; and this alternation continues, as long as they can hear each other. A loud and long howl, which is an Oh! barbarously modulated, constantly precedes the verse; the words of which are pronounced rapidly, almost without any modulation, which is all reserved for the last syllable, and ends with another long howl, by way of trill, raised louder and louder, while the breath lasts.
Although the Morlacchi usually sing their ancient song, yet other poetry is not altogether extinguished among them; and their musicians, after singing an ancient piece, accompanied with the
guzla,
sometimes finish it with some extempore verses, in praise of the personage by whom they are temployed; and, some of them are capable of singing extempore during the whole entertainment; always accompanying the voice with the
guzla.
There is also some written poetry among them, when the memory of a signal event happens to be preserved in that manner.
Their games and diversions, almost all, consist in trials of strength or agility; such as leaping, running, or flinging a large heavy stone. They dance to the sound of the bagpipe, and the voice of their singers; a favourite dance, which they call
kolo,
or circle, which soon turns into
skocci gofi;
that is, high dancing. All the dancers, men and women, taking hold of each others hands, form a circle, and turn slowly round, to the harsh notes of the instrument. Then the circle changes its form, sometimes into an elipsis, and sometimes a square, according as the dance becomes more animated; and, at last, transforms itself into the most violent springs and leaps, in which the women also join, and the whole becomes wild confusion. The Morlacchi have an incredible transport for this rude dance; for neither the fatigues of the day, nor a long journey, nor hunger itself, can detain them from it, or from continuing several hours, with very little intermission, in such a violent exercise.
It happens frequently enough, that inflammatory fevers are the immediate consequences of these violent dances just mentioned; in which case, and in all others of the like nature, the Morlacchi do not apply to the physician; because, happily for them there is none of that profession among them, but they cure themselves after their own way. A large draught of a spirituous liquor, which they call
rakia,
is commonly their first medicinal portion; and, that, if it does not effectuate the cure, they repeat the dose, together with a large infusion of pepper, or gunpowder. After this, they cover themselves up, in winter; or lie down in the hottest rays of the sun, if in summer,
to sweat the illness,
as they express it. Their cure for agues is more methodical; the first and second day they take a glass of wine, in which, as much pepper as they can take up between their finger and thumb, has been infused for several hours; and, the third or fourth day the dose is doubled. Their remedy for obstructions is to lay a large flat stone on the sick person's belly; and, for the rheumatism, they use a most violent friction; which, at least, renders the patient's back quite livid, and often strips off the skin. Sometimes they apply a red hot stone, wrapt in red rags, for rheumatic pains; and, they are used to drink a great quantity of vinegar, to recover their appetite, after a long series of fevers. But, the last remedy of all, which is taken only in desperate cases, is sugar, when they can find any; and, they put it into the mouths of dying persons, to make them pass into the other world with less bitterness.
Criptemus,
and
Chamoephitis,
are used for articular pains; and, they frequently apply horse-leeches to the swelled, or aching parts. They apply a red ochrous earth, frequently found in the fields, as the best remedy for excoriations, or wounds. They are very dexterous in setting dislocated, or broken bones, without having studied osteology, like our surgeons; who, notwithstanding more frequently lame us, by the rules of art. They perform phlebotomy with an instrument like that used for horses; and yet, there is no example of any bad accident happening by that coarse operation.
The family weeps and howls over the dead, while they lie in the house, and when they are carried out to be buried, much in the same manner as the wild Irish do with us. But the Morlacchi have several customs peculiar to themselves on these occasions; such as whispering in the ear of the dead person, and giving express commissions for the other world. After this ceremony is finished, the body is covered with a white cloth, and carried to church; where the lamentations begin again, and the praises of the deceased are sung, by the relations, or others appointed for that purpose, weeping. After the corpse is buried, the whole company, together with the curate, returns to the house; where there is a strange mixture of feasting and lamentation. The men let their beards grow a long time, in sign of mourning: a custom derived from the Jews, as is that of unleavened bread purifications, and several others. Violet, or blue coloured caps, are also the mark of mourning. The women wear black, or blue handkerchiefs; and cover all the red of their garments with something black. During the first year, the Morlach women go, every holiday, to renew their lamentations; strewing flowers, and wet herbs, upon the grave. And, if necessarily detained from that visit, they, next time, make a formal excuse to the dead, giving a minute account of the cause of their neglect. They also frequently ask news about the other world, and propose many curious interrogations. All these ceremonies are sung in a kind of verse, in a doleful tone; and, sometimes, the girls accompany the women, in order to learn these funeral arts; and form, altogether, a concert truly dismal.
CHAP. IX.
Of the Venetian Island.
OF all the islands of the Quarnaro, which, between great and small, are more than twenty in number, the island of Veglia is certainly the most considerable, for the ancient date of its being inhabited; the number of people it contains; the singularity of its situation; the amenity of the country; the variety and riches of its commodities; and, finally, for the productions of the fossil kingdom. The ancient Greek geographers knew it by the name of
Curicta,
which was also adapted by the Latins. Few considerable islands are situated so near the main land as this; being divided from the coast of Liburnia by a channel, scarcely a quarter of a mile broad. It is of an irregular figure; and has several promontories that stretch far into the sea. Its circuit is about ninety-five miles; the length of it is thirty; and its greatest breadth about fourteen.
The whole island contains about 15,000 inhabitants, of which 1,500 live in the capital. There are a great many cattle in this island; and particularly horses of that small, strong, and sprightly breed, well known in Italy, and much used for riding horses. The cattle and horses make an article of trade in this island, though not every year of equal importance. The oxen are small and weak; the number of sheep, on this island, may be about 50,000; but their wool is not in much esteem. They have hardly corn enough for four months provision; but, in recompence, they make about 24,000 barrels of wine, for exportation. Their wine is of excellent quality. The fire-wood sent yearly to Venice, amounts to about 5,000 sequins. Salt-fish is also an article of some importance.
The present capital, which bears the same name with the island, is situated on the very spot where the ancient
Curicta
stood; as appears by the many remains of columns and engraved stone in the walls and streets. It is ill-built, and full of rubbish, and ruined houses. In summer time, there is often a want of good water, to drink; and, the Scirocco wind predominates.
The Doge of Venice cannot attend to petty complaints of the clergy; and the ministers, appointed for that purpose, are often more apt to profit bythe disorder, than to remove it radically. A priest, for example, accused of defloration, has only to pay 50
paoli
for a full acquittal, according to the law of the island. There goes a story of a priest, who, being come to pay his penalty, after he had laid down his 50
paoli,
went on, counting out more; and, being asked why he did so, answered, "I pay beforehand for the next defloration, of which I shall be accused."
The Greek superstitions subsist almost all over the island; though there is no clergy of the Greek rite in it. In one of the principal villages, the priests, who have the charge of collecting the tithes, and of guarding the church, are obliged to sleep under a lodge, open on all sides, and contiguous to the steeple, from St.
George
's day to Michaelmas; that they may be ready, at any hour, to drive away the storms of hail, by ringing of bells; and, if the storm continues, it is their duty to go out into the open air, bare-headed, to conjure it. Perhaps, no where are the bells more frequently rung than here; and no steeple is more frequently struck with lightening.
The dress of the peasants, over all the island, is of a coarse kind of cloth, of a black colour; and, consists chiefly in a cassock, and a pair of long and wide breeches, which reach down to the middle of the leg; a number of people, assembled together, in this mourning kind of habit, forms a melancholy spectacle.
Of the Island of Pago, the ancient geographers have left us no description; though its form, extent, and rich produce deserved it. This island is extended from north and south, over against maritime Croatia, or the mountain Morlacca. It is about fifty miles long; its breadth is unequal. One particular circumstance distinguishes it from all the other islands of the Adriatic, which is a large internal salt-water lake, fifteen miles long, from south to north, into which the sea enters by a canal, not above a quarter of a mile broad.
The climate of the island of Pago is the same as that of the mountain Morlacca; in winter, dreadfully cold; in summer, scorching hot. The air is generally darkened by the salt mist, that is raised by the collision of the waves in the narrow channel of Morlacca, altogether flanked by steep naked rocks. The lake itself is not calm in the stormy season, and so far from being a harbour is tempestuous, and unsafe. The inhabitants of the city cannot go out of their houses during the violence of the wind; and are obliged to have the roofs defended, all round, by large stones. Those, who have been there in the winter time, speak of it as a Siberia, quite covered with snow and ice; and always exposed to the cold north wind. I, says Abbe
Fortis,
who was there in the hot season, thought it equal to the most scorching parts of the world. The naked rocks, which not only form the organization, but also the superficies of almost all the island; the narrowness of the vallies; the reverberation of the water of the lake, generally quite calm in summer, multiply the heat so prodigiously among those stones, that the vines, which are planted all round the lake, ripen the grapes by the beginning of August: and the few other products, that grow there, anticipate the usual time of maturity in the same manner. The meteors are exceedingly irregular in the summer time; sudden whirlwinds are frequent, and heavy showers of rain; the last are hurtful to the inhabitants of one part of the island, and favourable to the cultivation of the opposite end.
The banks of the interior marine lake are almost all cultivated with vines; and, particularly near the city of Pago, and the salt pits, at the south end of the lake. The part of the island, under the jurisdiction of Pago, produces about forty thousand barrels of good wine, and about two thousand of
Rakia,
one year with another. The great quantity of sage, and other odoriferous plants, with which the island is covered, furnishes excellent food for bees; and the honey forms no inconsiderable branch of trade. The same pasture, among those barren rocks, maintains a large number of sheep and goats; and the wool, which is very bad, and cheese, make a small article for export. The northern part of the island is well supplied with water, and has good pastures on the low grounds; by which means, its black cattle are larger, and better, than on any of the neighbouring islands on the coast of Dalmatia.
The most considerable product of the island is salt. In the year 1774, says Abbe
Fortis,
they made eight hundred thousand Venetian stavios. Part of the salt-works belongs to the government, and the rest to private proprietors; they are meliorated every year; and, for that end, the public lend money to those proprietors who want it; and who, without their assistance, could not make the requisite improvements. The lagune, on which the salt-works lie, is about four miles long, and half a mile broad.
Many vestiges of ancient habitation still remain on the island of Pago, as well as of walled places; which either have been destroyed by the incursions of enemies, or of time. Historians say that the island was often abandoned by its inhabitants; and, indeed, it is rather to be wondered at, how men ever could resolve to settle in so wretched a country. The small number of inhabitants, after so many years of peace and tranquility, under the Venetian government, evidently proves how little the island is really habitable. The whole number scarce amounts to 3,500 inhabitants; which bears no proportion to the extent of ground, if the naked barren hills, that cover almost the whole, did not account for it. The greatest part of this population lives in the city of Pago, which is said to contain about 3,000 inhabitants. The small capital of a desart island cannot be expected to offer much to the eyes of the curious; and, besides, it is of recent foundation, having been built by the Venetians, in the year 1468. The plan is well understood, and the streets are large and strait, which generally is not the case in the other cities of Dalmatia, Zara alone excepted.
The difficulty of access to this city, and the ill accommodations, make it little frequented by strangers. Hence the inhabitants are as wild and unpolished, as if they were at the greatest distance from the sea, and the commerce of polite people. The gentry, who pretend to shew their manners different from the vulgar, are truly grotesque figures, both in their dress, behaviour, and insolent pretensions.
The greatest part of the people of Pago live by working in the salt-pits, and have a comfortable subsistence, regularly paid by government; it is therefore a very important circumstance for the inhabitants of this city to have a dry summer; and, hence the ignorant vulgar look upon rain as a mischief brought upon the country by force of witchcraft. In consequence of this idea, they elect a friar to exercise the meteors, and keep the rain off the island. If, notwithstanding the poor friar's endeavours, the summer happens to be rainy, he loses his reputation, and his bread; but, if two or three dry seasons follow successively, he meets with great reverence and advantage.
To conclude the account of this city; I found not here, says Abbe
Fortis,
a single medal, nor inscription, nor M. S. nor a man of good sense, in all the island; every body is interested in the salt-pits; and whoever talks not of salt, is not regarded.
STATES BELONGING TO THE KING OF SARDINIA.
These consist of the duchies of Savoy, Piedmont, and Montserat, the county of Nice, some parts of the Duchy of Milan, and the kingdom of Sardinia, which is an island. The face of the country, climate, productions, character, manners and customs, being very different in each of these states, they being separated from each other by very high and extensive chains of mountains, will be treated in the same order we have hitherto pursued, as so many distinct states, with respect to their articles, beginning first with Savoy.
CHAP. I.
Situation, Climate, Mountains and Productions, Rivers, &c.
IT is only in an improper or extensive sense, that this Duchy can be placed in Italy, or Lombardy.
Map
of the
KING of SARDINIAS Dominions in
ITALY.
Map
of the ISLAND
of SARDINIA.
To the West it borders upon France; to the South it likewise borders on France and Piedmont: to the East on Piedmont, the Milanese and Switzerland; and to the North on the lake of Geneva, by which it is separated from Switzerland. Its greatest length, from West to East, is twenty-two German, or eighty-eight English miles; and its breadth from South to North, nineteen German, or twenty-six English.
Savoy may be reputed a nursery of heroes, being sequestered from all incentives to luxury and softness, on account of the lofty barren mountains, and enormous rocks, that overrun the greatest part of it, and are known to produce only some moss and shrubs. Box trees, indeed, grow in such plenty, that brooms are made of them. The vallies between the mountains yield some grain, but are rather more laid out for pasture: the industry of the inhabitants has made the best improvements, in the mountains themselves, which the so
could admit of.
There is so much rocky and barren ground in Savoy, says
Sharp,
particularly towards mount Cenis, that the least spot of earth, capable of producing corn, or grass, does not lie uncultivated; and, all through the country, one or the other may be seen growing on the slope of the rocks, wherever the peasant can find a little piece of flat surface, with a depth of soil sufficient to admit of vegetation. Many of these pieces of land are not bigger, and many are less, than the hall of an old English country mansion; but, in some places, they are numerous; and, by hanging one over the other, from the top to the bottom of the hill, make a very picturesque scene. In a conversation I had with a monk, an inhabitant of this country, I turned my eyes towards two or three of these little patches of cultivated ground, encompassed with a monstrous extent of barren rock; and, feeling some compassion for the supposed misery of the inhabitants, I opened my mouth to say something on the subject; but he, imagining I meant a panegyric on the state of this agriculture, interrupted me with great eagerness, in a manner which shews the providential and blind partiality, that almost every individual feels for his native country.
Aye, God be praised,
says he,
we are not like other nations, dependent for our food upon a due course of the seasons; for whether the rains or drought prevails, we are always assured of our harvest; we have so many crops on the bottom, the middle, and the summits of the mountains, that when some fail, the others necessarily succeed.
To have endeavoured to awake him out of his pleasing dreams, and open his eyes, says
Sharp,
I must have been a brute.
Towards the barren parts of the mountains, every one of the peasants is in possession of a small quantity of ground, which he cultivates for the maintenance of his family; and there is hardly an instance of a man's labouring by the day in these parts. It is supposed, there are generally sixty thousand Savoyards absent from home during the winter; for, those who have no vineyards, as soon as they have got in their little harvest, and sown their seed, set out, some for France, some for Italy, and others for different parts, to procure a small pittance, which they bring home to their wives and children. Just after harvest, it is amazing to see the prodigious number of small stacks of corn, spread over the whole face of the country; in some places, like haycocks in a meadow; but this partition of the land into such an infinity of small farms, accounts for the appearance; besides, the peasants make their stacks small, from a persuasion, that if they were larger, the corn in that climate would become discoloured and musty.
The wine, says
Busching,
is not contemptible; and, in some parts of their vallies, there is such a good breed of cattle, that most of the oxen in Piedmont, and the Milanese, are sent from Savoy. Mules also are bred for exportation: but all this is inconsiderable in proportion to the greatest part of the country, which is occupied by immense mountains. Some of the highest, are
Les glacieres,
or ice mountains; and
les montagnes maudites,
or the diabolical mountains, in Faucigny, the perpendicular height of the latter, twelve thousand feet. Maurienne, in particular, is remarkable for prodigious mountains, which make part of the Alps. The most famous is mount Cenis; the road from Savoy to Piedmont being cut over it. On the Lanebourg side the height is about three miles along a serpentine road; where the mules, carrying the passengers and baggage, may be left to themselves, without any apprehension of danger; these creatures being very cautious and sure-footed. On the top of the mountain stands a house, called
La Ramasse;
from whence, in winter-time, the descent to Lanebourg is performed on sledges, within seven or eight minutes; though from Lanebourg, up the mountain to La Ramasse, takes up a full hour. On the summit of the mountain, encompassed by others still higher, and perpetually covered with snow, is a plain, or, more properly, a valley; and in it a lake of about three miles in circumference. Here, among other fish, are trouts, of eighteen pounds weight and upwards, of a most delicious flavour. It is rented at near a hundred pounds sterling a year. In the middle it is said to be scarce fathomable.
The borders of this lake gave occasion to a pleasant reply made by
Sherlock.
I passed these mountains, said he, with a young Frenchman, who was passionately fond of the Italian music; when we arrived at our inn, on the middle of
he Alps, we went to take a walk, on the side of a small lake, surrounded by a delightful wood;
"Parbleu,"
said he, "Nature is very ridiculous here"—"Ha," replied I, "this is something new; I have often heard of the caprices of nature, but you are the first who have found her ridiculous."— "Listen," said he; (the wood resounded with the song of nightingales, and the lake was full of frogs that were croaking) "have you ever heard such a concert."—"Yes, I have heard some Frenchmen, and Italian women sing together." He took the joke in good part, says
Sherlock,
and we laughed at the ridiculousness of nature, and the opera-singers at Paris.
This lake receives a continual supply from the adjacent snowy mountains; and out of it flows a rivulet, by some called Semar, and by others St. Nicholas; which, falling precipitately down the mountains, runs into the river Dora, near Susa. Close by it, says
Keysler,
stood a little palace, built in 1619, by Duke
Victor Amadoeus,
only for the entertainment of his bride,
Christina,
daughter to
Henry
IV. in her journey through France; on which occasion he also exhibited, on this lake, a sea-fight.
At the inn called the Grande Croix, from a wooden cross near it, the boundary between Savoy and Piedmont, there is another descent, from a plain, surrounded with mountains, called
La plaine de St. Nicholas.
Here the descent begins to grow so stony and rugged, that the carriers of chairs, in which the travellers ride, jump down, from one large stone to another, as from so many high steps. Along this steep descent, near Novalese, in Piedmont, are three or four places, where the path, on the brink of the terrible precipices, is very narrow; and so washed away by the water, that half the chair hangs over the precipice; but these dangerous places extend not above a few paces. In this road to Novalese are two very lofty cataracts; one of which must be crossed over. The higher mountains are perpetually covered with snow and ice; and those who go in search of rock-crystal, or lay springs for chamois, as on the very high mountain of
Bon aise,
near Lanebourg, often expose their lives to imminent danger. These chains of high mountains occasion the roads, in Savoy, to be very bad, disagreeable, and dangerous; especially as huge masses of snow, or fragments of rock, roll frequently into them. The mountain of
Plain jou,
near Passy, in Faucigny, in 1751 became a volcano.
Some men of learning, says
Keysler,
have thought the rock-crystal, which is found in great quantities on these mountains, to be generated from ice. Not only
Seneca, Pliny,
and St.
Augustine,
among the ancients; but also
Cardan,
and
Pere Fournier,
among the moderns, adopt this transmutation of ice; but, not to mention, says the same writer, that the like origin may, with equal reason, be ascribed to the diamond, the chysolite, the topaz, and other gems; the favourers of such an hypothesis must either not have known, or not have recollected, that crystal is a native of very hot countries; such as of the island Cyprus▪ and several of the southern parts of Asia; but, from this notion, it would follow, that large mountains of clear crystal might be found about Nova Zembla.
The perpendicular height of the above mountains, from the surface of the lake of Geneva, is computed to be, at least, 2,000 fathoms, or, above two English miles; and the surface, of the lake of Geneva, is 426 fathoms above the level of the Mediterranean.
On the left-hand, between Fertiere and Novalese, in the descent from mount Cenis▪ is the mountain of Rochemelon; accounted the highest of all the Italian Alps. The ascent up this mountain is a day's journey; a steep valley running between that and mount Cenis. At first, says
Keysler,
I could see clearly up to its very summit; but, within less than half a quarter of an hour, it was quite involved in a cloud. These changes are so frequent, that, after all the trouble of getting up this prodigious acclivity, one may happen to come there at an unlucky time, and be obliged to wait for fair weather to come down again; but, in a clear sky, the toil must be acknowledged to be well rewarded, by an astonishing prospect over the Milanese, the Trevigiana, Venice, &c. Some have imagined this to be the mountain, from whence
Hannibal
encouraged his army, by a view of the splendor and fertility of Italy. A musquet, fired from the top of this mountain, makes but a very saint report; like that of the breaking of a stick, owing to the lightness and thinness of the air. It is said that a statue of
Jupiter
formerly stood upon the top of Rochemelon; perhaps it has been obliged to give way to one of the Virgin
Mary,
which is set up there; mass is annually said at this place, on the 5th of August. Thousands of people repair thither, from the neighbouring countries, either out of devotion, or in compliance with an injunction of the church; climbing over ice and snow, and spending, at least, one night upon the mountain.
The chief rivers in this country are, the Rhone, which flows out of the lake of Geneva; and, on that side, separates it from France. Into it run the following rivers: 2. The Arvo; which rises in Faucigny, has a mixture of gold in its sand, and, near Geneva, empties itself into the Rhone. 3. Les Susses; the sources of which are in Genevois; and fall into the Rhone, not far fron Seisel; the latter being increased by the Seran. 4. The Isere; which runs at the foot of mount Iseran; among others, it receives the river Arc, which likewise rises in the Alps. The Arc having a great many falls, is very rapid, and full of foam.
Of lakes, the chief are those of Annecy, in Genevois; and 2. Bourget, in Savoy; which are properly so called. The last, has a fish unknown in other countries, called Lavarette; frequently weighing four or five pounds; and, as a delicacy, never fails bringing a good price at Chambery. Here are also some remarkable springs; as the hot-bath at Aix. Not far from Bourget-lake is a spring, which rises and falls with some noise, but not at stated and regular times; after Easter this alteration is often perceptible about six times in an hour; and, in dry seasons, not above once or twice; it issues from a rock, and is called
la fontaine de merveille.
Of a different kind are the springs of this country, which sometimes throw up more or less water; and rise, or fall, according to the alteration in the Rhone; but not by such sudden and frequent fluxes and re fluxes as in the
fontaine de merveille.
Chambery is the capital of Savoy; and situate on the river Leise, in a pleasant valley, about one day's journey from Geneva. This town is not large, and its chief strength is in it walls. It is the seat of the high court of justice, or parliament of Savoy; and the residence of the noblesse. Here are no antiquities to be seen, nor any thing curious. Abbè
Richard
has said more in favour of the architecture of the church than it merits. They shew, with great veneration, a little chapel, in which the
Sainte Suaire
was deposited; since removed to Turin. Upon the wall hangs a long list of relics, consisting of about sixty different articles; such as St.
John
's reed, that
was shaken by the wind in the desart;
two nails of the
real cross;
fragments of some of the Apostles' garments. But, fortunately for the
devots
at Chambery, all their precious
realities
have been removed to Turin, and the list only remains. The old castle was deemed impregnable, in bow and arrow time, but is now commanded on every side. Two thousand people were lodged within its walls in 1736, or 1737, at the marriage of the present King of Sardinia, with Madame of Lorrain. The palace is in ruins. There are a few small pictures in the church of the Jacobins, tolerably well executed. The public walk, admired by
Lalánde,
does not answer his description. Here are several fountains, supplied with excellent water. The houses make a beggarly appearance, on the outside particularly, as the windows are of paper, and frequently in tatters. In this town there are no fewer than fifteen religious houses, male and female
communautés,
besides one convent of Jesuits; who, though consisting of no more than fourteen or fifteen in number, have a yearly revenue of thirty thousand livres.
I shall conclude the account of Chambery, says Lady
Millar,
with an anecdote of a cobler's family. About a quarter of a league from Chambery, a fine
chateau,
just built, attracts our notice. The master of it goes by the name of
Jaques Mar,
(for he has no title) and is the son of a cobler. In childhood, leaving his country, he travelled into Spain. Being arrived at Madrid, he had the good fortune to recommend himself as a
marmiton
in the Queen's kitchen; when, in process of time, he was promoted to be
chef de la cuisinier;
and, at length,
Entrepreneur,
or caterer; in which capacity he had a fixed monthly allowance, to provide victualling for all the royal houshold. In the mean time, a brother of
Jaques Mar,
who, to seek his fortune in England, had quitted Chambery, died in London; having realized about ten thousand livres a year, which he bequeathed to his brother. Fame, says Lady
Millar,
does not give so accurate an account of the rise and progress of this
Mar,
as of
Jaques.
All that could be learnt was, that he served a London merchant, who traded on the seas; and that, at length, he became considerable, and carried on commerce upon his own account. The caterer
Jaques
planned and built the before-mentioned
chateau,
to which he retired, with a yearly income of about two thousand pounds sterling, at the age of forty-five. His cousin-german continues the family-stall, furnishing to the necessities of the soles and heels of his neighbours, with as much humility as if there had been no
chateau
in the family.
At Aix, near this city, are some baths, famous for their medicinal qualities. Two of the springs burst out of a rock, on the side of a steep mountain, which are arched over like a grotto. The waters are excessive hot. Our guide, says Lady
Millar,
told us that a Geneva gentleman had but just left the town, who was so paralytic, when he entered, as to occasion his being helped out of his carriage, by five men; in six weeks after he had used the baths, and drank the waters, he got into his coach without assistance, and is returned in perfect health to Geneva. One of the springs brings down with it a kind of stuff, or paste, in flakes; in colour and consistence not unlike the white of an egg, a little hardened; which flames and burns, when applied to a lighted candle. Curiosity led me to taste the water, of which, having drank a glass, with several flakes in it, I was, almost instantaneously seized with a sickness in the stomach. It is used in consumptions, and all disorders of the breast. I folded up in a paper some of the most condensed flakes, and put them into my pocket-book to dry; but an hour or two after, there was not the smallest vestige to be seen; nothing remained but an offensive smell. The stones, which receive the spray, are covered over with a green coat resembling vitriol; which is applied as an infallible remedy to corns. No doubt it may be endued with many superior virtues, though they have not yet been properly investigated. There is another fountain, which supplies a bath built for
Madame Royale;
the water of which is green; and so transparent as to discover the source, bubbling up through the gravel at the bottom. This water is said to have the extraordinary quality of restoring, in a few hours, to their original freshness, all sorts of berbs and vegetables, though dried and withered.
Lanebourg is situated among the mountains, and particularly mount Cenis; which lies so near it, towards the South and East, that from the end of November, to the 17th of January, the inhabitants never see the sun; which on that day makes its first appearance above the tops of the mountains. It is a large village, at the foot of mount Cenis, consisting of between two and three hundred houses; which enjoys a number of privileges, and is under excellent regulations; they are so happy as to be free from the oppression of a
Seigneur Commandant,
or any other petty tyrant. The only tax they are subject to is the
Taille;
which amounts nearly to the seventh part of the produce of their lands, and is paid to the king; they are at no other public expence, except the keeping the public roads and bridges passable. They also make provision for their
curé,
and repair the church. They never let their land; as by so doing it would not produce them more than two and a half per cent. whereas, by cultivating their little property themselves, they make it yield from ten to thirteen per cent. There are few Lanebourgians who possess more than twelve, and none more than forty pounds a year. They have but two priests, in their village, and no convent. They are remarkably healthy, and long-lived; no physician being permitted to live at Lanebourg. The simplicity of their manners, and the purity of their lives, is such, that it very rarely happens an illegitimate child is produced amongst them; but, when such an event does arrive, immediate marriage, or perpetual exile, must ensue. By the vigilance of the
curé
and syndics, no person has ever escaped one or other of these ordinances; and they generally prefer the former. Here then subsists a community more free from superstition, than the religion they profess admits. Content with the produce of their own labours, they are always chearful, always happy; their wants are bounded by the mere necessary; their riches never reach beyond their means;—Thus do they defy the vice of avarice, and chase for ever from their pillow, the cares attendant on ambition.
Among the inhabitants of the mountains, in this part of the world, is a very singular custom; as absurd as it is laughable; I do not know that any writers of travels have mentioned, as I had it on the veracity of a gentleman with whom I am acquainted; and who is a native of Savoy. He declares, that being one day on a visit at a gentleman's house; the master of a capital vineyard, where he slept one night, on the mountains; two beautiful girls, the daughters of his friend, with a young lady their visitor, came into his chamber, just as he had got out of his bed; and, before he could get any of his cloaths on; and, as they did not shew any disposition to retire, though he was naked, decency led him to jump into his bed again, and cover himself with the cloaths; thinking they might have something particular to say to him. They burst out a laughing, came up to the bedside, and attempted to slip down the cloaths. Not being prepared for such a visit, and one of them having a rod in her hand, I was at a loss, says he, to know what they would be at. As they strived to uncover me, I gathered the cloaths about me, and made all the resistance I could: but, finding that ineffectual, I determined to laugh with them, and treat them in their own way. Accordingly I jumped out of bed, catched hold of one of them by her petticoats before; treated them in a manner I should have called rude, at any other time, made some attempts at indelicacies; and, though I used not my tongue, I made good use of my hands.—It was a general romp.—They laughed immoderately; and when tired, fled from me, and thus I got rid of them. Having locked my door, I dressed myself; and, telling my adventure to a friend that morning, he assured me they were girls of good character; and their visit to me was merely a frolick, and designed to alarm me with the dread of the rod; that, when in bed, had I gathered the cloaths about me before, turned my back to them, and exposed my breech, they would not have given me a single stroke; but would have run away laughing. That to frighten their male visitants with the dread of a whipping, was a customary frolick of unmarried girls of that country; that their whole enjoyment consisted in the panic they occasioned, and they called it Alarming the stranger.
The same gentleman informs me, that in the Alps there is a plant, which is sought and gathered by moon-light; great quantities of which are transported to Paris; but what the plant is, in its nature, he could not learn. That it is discoverable only in moon-light, and then only in certain directions, when it has a brilliancy peculiar to itself; and by which it is known. A step of the searcher, much to the right or left, will lose him the sight of it.
ALARMING THE STRANGER
In winter, when the snow is on the ground, the plain on the top of mount Cenis is crossed in a sledge, drawn by a horse or mule. The descent, from La Grande Croix to Novalese, must, at all times, and even in winter, be made in chairs; the large stones, the winding ways full of holes, and the dangerous precipices, not admitting the use of sledges. But the descent, from mount Cenis to Lanebourg, is performed in these machines; which go with such rapidity, as almost to take away the breath. These sledges hold only two, the traveller, and the guide who sits forward steering with a stick. On each side he has an iron chain; which he drops like an anchor, either to slacken the course of the sledge, or to stop it. This, like the carrying in chairs, is called
ramassar les gens.
Some travellers, especially the English and Germans, are so delighted with this expeditious descent, that they ride up again for the enjoyment of that pleasure a second time. This is the village where the carriages are taken to pieces to cross mount Cenis, and from whence travellers are conveyed up the mountains; as well as along the plain, and down the other side, in chairs. There are mules for those who chuse to ride; but the porters, of which there are an hundred kept always in readiness for this employment, are so accustomed to it, that they convey travellers up the mountaain, with less fatigue to themselves; than those not accustomed to climbing would experience, even in walking up. There are, from six to ten porters allotted to each chair, according to the weight of the person to be carried, who relieve each other by turns.
A corpulent Englishman, says
Keysler,,
who is said to have weighed five hundred and fifty pouunds, travelling here, was obliged to make use of twelve chairmen.
The chairs, says Lady
Millar,
are constructed in the most simple and portable manner imaginable. There are two small bars of wood for arms, and another bar behind, which rises a little higher than the waist; and which serves as a support to the back of the person in the chair; the seat is matted with bark of trees and ropes, mixed together; which yield to the weight of those it conveys. The seat is so near the ground, that there is not the least difficulty in stepping out of the chair at pleasure. There are no legs to these chairs; but, in their room, a board is tied on by ropes to the seat, for the feet to rest on, and the cords as much shortened as can conveniently be; the legs and feet are well supported, being sufficiently raised to clear them entirely of any shock from rocky, or uneven ground.
These chairs are fixed on poles, which appeared to me as long as those commonly used in Bath, or London. The chairmen are aided by straps over their shoulders, in the manner of those in England; and they use no other assistance to keep them from slipping, than a few nails drove into the heels of their shoes; and a packthread passed from one to the other of them.
Of all disputable matters, between the chairmen and travellers, says
Sharpe,
the Syndics are appointed by his Sardinian Majesty absolute judges. These Syndics are magistrates; living, one at Lanebourg, on this side of the mountain; and the other at Novalese, which is situated at the foot of the mountain, on the side towards Turin; they are poor men, and not above accepting a small present for drink; but invested with sufficient power to compel both the muleteers, and the chairmen, to attend when any traveller arrives. I had an opportunity, when I travelled into Italy, says the above author, of seeing this power exerted; for the chairmen were in the midst of their harvest, gathering in the produce of their little farms; and would gladly have been excused. The Syndic therefore rung the alarum-bell, which summons was immediately obeyed; and a sufficient number of them selected to transport me, and my company, the next morning. Their pay is fixed; it is about half-a-crown each; and the hire of each mule nearly as much; but, by the ordinance, no mule is obliged to carry above three hundred and fifty pounds weight; so that, if the body of a carriage, or any parcel of luggage, should weigh more, it is in the breast of the muleteers to demand what sum they please; a privilege they seldom neglect to avail themselves of; and sometimes, with great extortion, to the amount of many guineas. Englishmen, who take their own coaches, should provide such a carriage as may be taken to pieces; which those with a perch do not admit of. A man may travel post through the Alps, if he pleases, but it is attended with some trouble; and, as I would not advise any one, says
Sharpe,
to drive fast on the edges of those precipices, I shall forbear to enter into a detail on that subject.
Martin
likewise observes, that this is, almost, the only road, where it is expedient to travel by vetturins; unless the state of a traveller's finances makes it necessary. He adds, that there is one sedan chair at Susa; which may generally be had, by sending notice before-hand, on the other side of the mountain; and, lately, they have provided other covered chairs.
On the side of the mountains are small houses, which serve the peasants, in winter, as magazines for their forage; and, in summer, as dairies; for they make butter and cheese in them, during the three warm months. The plain is by no means
sans aucune inegalité,
according to
Lalande,
for there is a great variety of ground; and what is called the plain, is rather a valley, extending along between high mountains, with several different roads through it; some of which the mules take, others the porters. The grass is exceedingly thick, short, and full of flowers; such as amuranthoides, or everlastings; some yellow, others of a fine crimson, and purple. The crowfoot kind is in great abundance, on this mountain; with a number of aromatic, and odoriferous plants. The forests, on the sides of mount Cenis, abound with the
Chamois;
a species of wild goat, whose flesh is eatable. The peasants sell their skins, from eight, to twelve livres each. The blood of these animals dried, and taken in wine, is esteemed a sovereign remedy for the pleurisy. The King of Sardinia is never without the medicine; it being allowed, by the Turin physicians, to be admirable, in many cases. The chamois are fleet, and extremely shy; concealing themselves in the most retired parts of the forest, and in the clefts of rocks, the most difficult of access. They are so alert, that they bound from rock to rock, and will stand, with all their four feet together, on the most pointed of them. Their smell is so exquisite, that no man can approach them without their perceiving it, except against the wind; and they have the sense of hearing, in such perfection, tha it is scarce possible to get within shot of them. The only way of killing them is, by lying in wait behind the bushes, near their usual haunts, before break of day, taking care the wind is in your favour. No dog can catch them, not even a greyhound; for they run directly to the precipices, as their security, near which they are always found; and which are so exceedingly embarrassed, and intersected, that a dog would break his neck, that should attempt to follow them for any time.
Opposite to the inn, situated at the further extremity of the plain, is a small chapel, where those, who happen to perish on the mountains, by cold, lightening, or any other accident, are buried; provided that a rosary, or any other mark of their catholicism, be found about them. Though this country lies so high, it is not free from thunder; and often suffers by thick clouds unexpectedly settling upon it, and remaining four, five, or six days.
They brought us, says Lady
Millar,
butter; the best, I think, I ever tasted; perhaps owing to the many aromatic herbs, the cows find on the plain. They asserted that, for nine months in the year, they keep the cows in their kitchens; in order to make butter for the English travellers.
The descent from La Grande Croix, says Lady
Millar,
is extremely rapid, for about three hundred yards; and resembles, more than any thing, a broken stone stair-case; which occasions the porters to turn so suddenly, with its windings, that the person in the chair passes clear over the sharp angles, cutting them, as it were, across. Notwithstanding the novelty of this manner of travelling, the steepness of the road, and the velocity with which I descended, my porters running almost the whole way, I never once felt myself sufficiently frightened to lay hold of the arms of the chair, my attention was so much engaged with the singularity, and variety of the prospect below.
In descending the mountain to Novalese, says
Keysler,
one is sometimes obliged to alight, from these straw chairs. and walk forty or fifty paces; not so much on account of the dangerous road, as from the narrowness and windings, of the defiles between the rocks, not admitting the use of the long poles, with which they carry the chairs; the chairmen then either put them under their arms, or carry them on their heads, as they are very light. One of these passes is called
les pas de diable, i. e.
"The devil's stride." The path, in some places, is scarce a foot broad; and, on each side, are very steep precipices. Sometimes our chairmen happened to stumble, and fell down, but it was when there was little danger; and, in such cases, it is the safest way to throw themselves on the ground. These chairmen have a very easy pace; and, the weather being exceedingly fine, I was extremely well pleased with this day's expedition. In our cities of Germany, says
Keysler,
what a noise do the chairmen make, if they are to carry a person, of any bulk, but some hundred steps; whilst here our Lanebourg chairmen, without the least panting, or resting, run directly up a mountain, whose height is a good hour,s journey; and then, on the plain above us, and as soon as they have fitted the chairs, which they dispatch in a few minutes, carry the company, for two hours together, over a very bad road, making only four pauses, and those very short ones; such is the effect of custom, and a simple diet, to which they also owe their uncommon longevity; many of them attaining to an hundred years of age. Their usual drink is milk; and they seldom taste wine. In my inn at Chambery, I fell into discourse with a Franciscan, of some sense and learning, whose conscience would not allow him to be carried by men, as contrary to that equality among the human species; which, as he said, was founded in nature, and, as far as possible, ought to be kept up. Accordingly he travelled on foot, in coming down the mountain to Lanebourg, but assured me, that another time he should dispense with those scruples; the steepness of the mountains being such, that it was with the greatest difficulty he could keep on his legs. Thus it was not without extreme toil, and danger of his life, that he performed this journey; which yet is much easier than to descend on the other side of the mountain into Italy; where the rocks are more dangerous, and the road more encumbered with their fragments.
To give an idea of this precipice, says
Grosley,
it suffices to say that the descent is not quite three leagues; and the ascent takes up full five-and-twenty. We were amazed at the rapidity of the Arc, along which the way lies in ascending; but, compared to the little Doria, along which you go down, it only creeps. The fall of the latter is one continual cascade; distributed by flights of twenty, thirty, fifty feet perpendicular height; down which the water precipitates itself like surf, or very light froth; so that, at some distance, it looks like the transparent clouds, sailing along in a fine summer's sky.
The road of the descent is a zig-zag, at very acute angles, contrived and laid out with admirable art, and on it our carriers trotted, as fast as the best chairmen in Paris. To shorten the way, they would stride over the points of angles; and there we, and our carriages sometimes hung over a precipice, two or three thousand perpendicular feet in depth. The very mules, when their riders are so venturous, or when left to themselves, take the same bold pace. This descent is, to travellers, like being driven into Italy by a storm.
Winter is no impediment to travelling over mount Cenis, for the snow renders the whole road excellent; and in some of the rough craggy ways, much better than in summer; so that there are continually people passing into Italy, through the Alps.
A traveller cannot advance far, in this mountainous country, before he perceives many of the natives, of both sexes, labouring under that species of swelled throat, which the common people call a wen, or, the
Deer's-neck;
and the medical people,
Bronchocele:
near mount Cenis very few are exempt from it; and many of these swellings are so enormous, and of so loathsome an appearance, especially in ugly, ragged, half-starved old women, that the very fight of them turns the stomach. I do not learn, says
Sharpe,
that this malady is ever mortal; not but that, sometimes, the tumor compresses the windpipe so much, as to render respiration very difficult; which, at the long-run, though insensibly, may affect life. It is well known, that in whatever place the inhabitants drink snow-water, they are subject to this distemper. This swelling, however, never begins to form till towards two years of age.
END OF VOL. XVII.