i.mbwiwmiimi'jfii'a YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ITALY ITALIAN LITERATURE. BY CHARLES HERBERT, Esq. Italia mia, benche'l parlar sia indarno AUe piaghe mortall, Che nel bei corpo tuo si spesse veggio, Piacemi almen, ch'i miei sospir sien quali Spera '1 Tevere, e I' Arno, E'l P6, dove dogUoso e grave or seggio. Rettor del ciel, io cheggio, Che la piet^ che ti condusse in terra, Ti Volga al tuo diletto almo paese. Petrarca. Knowst thou the land where the pale citron grows, 'Mid thicket glooms the golden orange glows, Where balmy winds from deep blue skies are breath'd, And myrtles low with laurels proud are wreath'd ? Knowst thou the land? After Goethe, by R. W. LONDON: PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, GILBERT, & PIPER, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1835. yalh London: gilbert & rivington, pbi.vters, st. john's square. 830^ TO Sir JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE, Bart. 8fc. 8fc. Sfc. Sir, When I bethought me of one to whom I might with propriety inscribe my little volume on Italy, the name of Hobhouse, intimately asso ciated as it is in the minds of all with that of Byron, and with one of the noblest poems of modern times, naturally suggested itself to me. In your illustrations of Childe Harold's Pil grimage, you hav^ by your profound and lucid historical investigations, added greatly to the in terest of that delightful poem, and are allowed by common consent, to have shown yourself one of the most accomplished scholars and antiqua ries of the age. A 2 iv dedication. But it is not only for these admirable researches into her antiquities that Italy is indebted to you ; she owes you the farther obligation of having been among the first of English writers, who awakened your countrymen, by the pen of enlightened criti cism, to a sense of the manifold charms of her modern literature. From such a benefactor Italy may perhaps, and with reason, expect yet more. Will not he who has so ably pointed out the causes of her decay, and so warmly sympathized in her political degradation, by steadily persevering in those liberal views, which have so honourably marked his public life, add strength to the growing cause of Hberty, and thus advance the day when, free and independent, she may take her place among nations? While I express the high esteem I feel for your public character, and the admiration I entertain for your genius and acquirements as a distinguished cultivator of letters, allow me. Sir, to subscribe myself, most respectfully. Your obedient humble Servant, Charles Herbert. INTRODUCTION. No country has so constantly occupied the attention of mankind in past ages, none, at present, pos sesses so many, so various, and so absorbing claims to consideration, as Italy. Other lands attract the curiosity of the traveller and student, for a few peculiar objects of interest : Spain has her Alham bra, beautiful in ruins, and mourning as it were over her departed chivalry, her Moorish recollec tions and her Gothic heroes ; France may boast of her early troubadours, her grand monarchs, and her finished courtiers; Germany looks back with vene ration on her bold reformers, her warlike feudal barons, and the castellated memorials of the middle ages; England refers to her spirit-stirring and successful struggles for constitutional liberty, and her influence in colonizing and spreading civiliza- a3 vi introduction. tion over the earth ; Greece, alas ! robbed of her precious relics, and scarcely rescued from the hands of barbarians, can only sigh over the scenes that are immortal ; but no land, however interesting in itself, like Italy, throws a chain over the affections and memories of all : on her classic and favoured soil alone every taste, every passion, every feeling of the mind finds ample means of gratification. The traveller, imbued with the spirit of ancient Rome, here beholds the scenes depicted in her poets and historians ; the antiquarian has here a hundred fields of research not yet half explored, and the promise of the richest harvest to his well- directed enterprise; the student, absorbed in the captivating pursuits of literature, will here trace its lusty birth, its flourishing youth, and its advance into almost perfect manhood. The admirer of art is at home in Italy alone ; here only can he study the most noble remains of Grecian art, here find the chisel of the early Greeks worthily be stowed in the hands of an Angelo and a Canova, and the fabled splendours of Apelles and Zeuxis, rivalled by the rich realities of Raphael and Titian. introduction. Vll Whatever the prevailing bias of the mind, in Italy it finds an object suited to its indulgence : the devotee even, will find in Italy much of the spirit of the antique Catholic times, and the relics of saints and martyrs, are here preserved in abundance to claim his veneration. In a word, all, from the philoso phical historian to the mere man of pleasure, in Italy, find equal means of endless entertainment ; the one here roams at large over the chief fields of antient, nay, of modern story; access is easily obtained to libraries stored with the rarest trea sures ; the soil is strewed for him with the monu ments of genius, — every hill, every plain, every river, speaks to him of the illustrious dead. The other, in her balmy air, her blue and sunny skies, her unruffled seas, the fascinations of her daugh ters, their soft dark eyes, and melodious voices, and her pantomimic and poetic people, finds con stant and never-tiring sources of enjoyment. No wonder then that Italy has been the theme of so many poets, historians, and traveUers, that Shakspeare, Schiller, Otway, Radcliff, Goethe, Byron, and unnumbered other bards, should have a4 viii INTRODUCTION. drawn from her as from an inexhaustible mine of inspiration, enriching their respective muses with her stores, and in return, enshrining her in their immortal verse with ever-fresh and ever-varying charms. To Italy have the curious of all nations in all ages thronged. No country has furnished more food for reflection to the philosopher, none has been so often described by the traveller. Many of these and their accounts, according to the laws of mortality, have long passed into the sea of oblivion, but many still float on the surface of the current that is tending thither. We stiU turn with pleasure to the classic pages of Addison, to the amusing letters of Moore, to the saturnine stric tures of SmoUet, the refined criticism of Forsyth, the eloquent disquisitions of Eustace, and to the learned and copious details of the French traveller La Lande, and the republican Dupaty ; or coming to more recent times, -we find infinite amusement in the pages of the lively Lady Morgan, in the agreeable diary of Mathews, the impartial anony mous volumes, entitled " Italy as it is," the well- informed and judicious Simond, the melodious INTRODUCTION. IX Song of Rogers, and last, though not least, that painter of scenery and manners, the epicurean Beckford. These names, and a few more such as these, will probably long survive. But if memory alone supplies so copious a list of po pular writers, who have all ably, after their several manners, wielded the pen, is it not natural to suppose that the subject of which they treat is exhausted ? And those, indeed, may be pardoned who exclaim — why needs another to run over this famUiar and well-trodden path ? It certainly does require no small degree of courage, to employ the pencU at this late hour upon a scene which has been treated by so many celebrated artists. But even as the primary tones in music may be varied to infinity, and each in itself from the soft stops of the well-toned organ is delightful, so may the particulars in the history of Italy, past and present, be viewed under difi'erent aspects to in finity, and the surpassing beauty of the theme enable it to stand the ordeal even of unskilful handling, Italy may be aptly enough likened to a beautiful female, the generous patroness of the A 5 X INTRODUCTION. arts, who has most kindly and condescendingly sat to aU sorts of limners, experienced and unpractised, of all ages and of aU countries, some portion of whose surpassing loveUness has, somehow or other, found its way into all the pictures, though often extremely unlike one another, and in various in stances, perhaps, bearing no great resemblance to the original. The writer of the foUowing brief sketches has not the vanity to enter into competition with the mighty names that have gone before him ; his claims to notice rest on different and humbler grounds. Former travellers have treated, according to their various tastes, of the antiquities, of the fine arts, and of the manners and politics of Italy; as yet, none has entered much into the literature or history of that country. Perhaps the difficulty of amalgamating information on such extensive topics, with the current theme of a book of travels, may explain the reason why nothing of this nature has hitherto come before the public. Our English writers are prepared, by the whole course of their ¦early studies, to enter on the consideration of Italy 15 INTRODUCTION. XI as she was in ancient times ; but the Uterature of modern Italy forms no regular or integral part of the education of British youth, and this is therefore very commonly overlooked by our tourists. We might take shame to ourselves for our neglect of this, perhaps the most interesting of all the fields in which the progress of the human mind can be traced after the revival of letters. At so low an ebb is the general estimate of the worth of Italian Uterature in England, that it is not without certain misgivings as to the success of his labours, that the miscella neous information which foUows, has been collected on the Uterature of Italy in the sixteenth century, which was its most fiourishing sera, and that the rapid review of its former and present state, has been composed. Besides these purely Uterary no tices, the reader wiU find a hasty glance at the pro gress of the sciences in Italy during the seventeenth and subsequent century, which the writer believes wUl go far to show that sufficient importance has not been attached to all we owe to Italy for her contributions to the stores of human knowledge. The two last chapters contain an abstract of the xu INTRODUCTION. history of the most famous of the early ItaUan republics, and of the lives of the most celebrated among the Roman Pontiffs ; and a Catalogue Raisonne of the most eminent ItaUan writers is added, by way of appendix. To ItaUan scholars it would be presumptuous to suppose that anything of novelty is here offered ; possibly there is little that can interest. It is not, therefore, to such an advanced class of readers that this work is addressed ; its intention is rather to serve as a useful companion to the guide book, and a kind of introduction to Italian literature. For those who incline to enter farther on the flowery and fascinating fields it possesses, and as yet know not the pure fountain-heads at which to slake their thirst, the following guides can be confidently re commended : the enlarged and elaborate work of Ginguene ', on the Uterature of Italy, — the literature of the south by Sismondi, — the invaluable, though ' Ginguene Histoire Litteraire d'ltalie — Sismondi de la Litterature du midi de TEurope — Tiraboschi Storia della Letteratura Italiana — Bettinelli del risorgimento d'ltalia — Crescimbeni Istoria della volgar Poesia— Denina Vicende della Letteratura^-Gravina della Ragion Poetica — Corniani c Ugoni I secoli della Letteratura Italiana. INTRODUCTION. XUl dry, researclies of Tiraboschi, — Bettinelli on the rise of ItaUan literature, — Crescimbeni on the his tory of Italian poetry, — Denina on the revolu tions in the literature of Italy — Baretti's Italian library — Gravina's criticisms on poetry — and the excellent work of Corniani and Ugoni, which con tains, in an agreeable and compressed form, much that is valuable in Tiraboschi and other writers. The English reader will peruse with the greatest pleasure, (if it be not an enjoyment in which he has already indulged,) the different works of Roscoe, Hobhouse's iUustrations of the fourth canto of ChUde Harolde, (a work that presents an admira ble union of profound erudition and refined taste,) Stebbing's Uves of the ItaUan poets, — the beautiful essays of Foscolo on Petrarch and Dante, — and finally many excellent articles, replete with inform ation on Italy, in the Foreign Quarterly Review. For historical details it is sufficient to mention the names of Muratori, Sismondi, Denina, Bossi, and Botta, and a very entertaining as weU as instruc tive recent publication, the Romance of History, by Mac Farlane. xiv INTRODUCTION. To be diffuse the prescribed Umits did not allow ; and in studying brevity, perhaps that worst of all faults of writing has been committed, accord ing to Voltaire, that of being uninteresting, " tous les genres sont bons, hors des genres ennuyeux." To obviate such a defect as much as possible, a slight account of personal travel, has been inter woven through the body of the work. In short, no longer to detain the reader on this egotistical sub ject, the writer hopes, that if he has done anything useful, however smaU in amount this may be, his faults being viewed with an indulgent eye, will be pardoned, should he be found to have failed in the more difficult task of being also amusing. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE Departure from Paris — Meeting the late Dauphin — Dijon under the Dukes of Burgundy — Remarks upon Lyons — The late Insurrectionary Movements of the Working Classes — The Hotel Dieu — Superiority of the French over English Medical Instruction — The Injudicious Re strictions of the French upon Commerce 1 CHAPTER II. A pleasant Sail down the Rhone in an open Boat — A Dispute — Thfe Author consulted — Disapproves of Hostilities — National Antipathies fast declining 9 CHAPTER III. Avignon — Its Ancient Recollections — The Popes at Avignon — Laura and Petrarch — The Poetical Region of Pro vence — The Provenfal Bards — Geoffry Rudel and the Countess of Tripoli — The Countess of Champagne and the Courts of Love — A Short Review of Petrarch's Life and Sonnets — Gibbon's opinion of Petrarch's Love for Laura confuted 13 XVI CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. PAGE Embarks at Marseilles for Genoa— Narrow Escape from Ship wreck off the Coast of Italy— Lands at Finale— Travels with a Genoese Noble to Genoa — Andrea Doria — Notice of the Ancient Genoese Republic— Lord W. Bentinck— The late King and Queen at the Theatre— The Reigning King Charles Albert— His Popularity with the Piedmon tese — The Improving State of Sardinia. 28 CHAPTER V. Journey from Genoa to Pisa — The early Revival of the Arts in that City — The Advantages which the Italian Repub lics conferred upon Italy and Europe — A Visit to Florence — The performance of an Improvisatore on a Country Tour 40 CHAPTER VI. The Appearanoe of Florence — The Recollections it calls up — The Justice of the Comparison made between it and Athens — The Gallery of Florence— The Venus di Me dici — The Pitti Palace^The Venus of Canova — A very brief notice of the State of Literature in the Fifteenth Century, before it burst forth, in all its splendour, in the Sixteenth 51 CHAPTER VII. Dante — The Divina Commedia — New views of Rossetti upon the allegories of that Poem — The question whether or not Beatrice is to be viewed as a personification of Morality 65 CHAPTER VIII. Boccaccio — His Minor poems — The Decameron — The Merits of that Work — An Excuse for its Faults — A Comparison between Boccaccio and Chaucer — Machiavelli — The " Il Principe" — Is this Composition to be considered as CONTENTS. XVU PAOE a Satire on Princes or not ? — Was the mind of the Writer Corrupted ? — His Discourses on Livy — Galileo — The first of Modern Philosophers to question Nature by Experiment — His Imprisonment by the Inquisition — His Discoveries — His Domestic Habits 79 CHAPTER IX. Leghorn — A great resort for Merchants of different Nations — Freedom of Religious Worship — Departure in a Steam Boat for Rome — Recollections on going up the Tiber — The contrast between its present and its former State — Disembarking at Midnight — Wandering through Rome — The Festival of Corpus Christi — The Procession — The different feelings of the Spectators — The utility of some of the Monastic Orders 97 CHAPTER X. The Vatican — The frescos of Raphael and Angelo — The supe riority of the Ancients in Statuary — Are the Moderns superior in Painting ? — The Coliseum — A Notice of the Division of its Compartments— The Cruelty of the An cient Romans — Appearance of the Coliseum by Moon light — Astonishing Exhibitions it once presented — The Causes of its Decay 110 CHAPTER XI. The Political Condition of the Roman State — Not so bad as it has been described — Some Manufactures — Great Room for Improvement in its Judicial and Legislative Institutions — Remarks on the State of the Catholic Re ligion in Rome 129 CHAPTER XII. Naples — The Impressions it leaves on the mind of the Tra veUer — The Superstition of the People — An old Woman at her Devotions — The Manners of the Neapolitan Women — The Supper of the Lower Orders — The Lazza- XVIU CONTENTS. PAGE roni Philosophers — The Public Museum — Hospital for the Illustrious Dead — Ascent of Vesuvius — Accident on the Crater — The Bay of Naples at Sunrise, frora the Summit of the Mountain 138 CHAPTER XIII. Classic scenes around Naples — The Orlando Furioso — Olympia — Orlando's Madness — The Story of Isabella and Zerbino— Astolpho's Journey to the Moon — Ariosto, the Homer of the Italians — The great inventive genius of Ariosto — His irregularities amply redeemed by his wit and fancy — Contrasted with the Author of the Fairy Queen 154 CHAPTER XIV. Tasso — The Jerusalem Delivered — The approach of the Christian Army to Jerusalem — -Armida's Art — The first of Modern Epics, compared with the Lusiad and Hen- riade — Pastoral Poetry — The Aminta of Tasso — II Pastor Fido of Guarini — The Bucolics of Sannazarius — Superi ority of Italian Pastoral Poetry — Latin Epics of Vida, Fracastorius and Trissino — Their indifferent choice of subjects 170 CHAPTER XV. Pompeii — Posilippo — Baiae — The Villa of Lucullus, a great Epicurean — Hortensius and his love for fish — The Hunt ing Lodge of the late King — The unpopularity of the reigning King — Cajeta, the nurse of Eneas — Terracina —The Pomp of the Mayor— Route to Albano 186 CHAPTER XVI, THE CAPITOL. The Catacombs of St. Sebastian — A place of refuge for the early Christians — Persecutions of the Emperors— Gib bon's opinions with respect to the Martyrs considered — CONTENTS. XIX PAGE A view from the Pincian, a lively spectacle no where else to be seen — Amusement and devotion combined — The Borghese Villa, a delightful combination of art and nature — ^Its resemblance to Ariosto's fairy scenes 202 CHAPTER XVII. Music among the Romans — Encouraged by the Church during the middle ages — Modern music — Its Cultivators — Rise of the Opera at Rome — Apostolo Zeno — Metas tasio— His beauties — His defects — Lord Chesterfield's opinion of the Opera — How much we are indebted to Italy for the Opera 214 CHAPTER XVIII. Leaves Rome — The Campania — Baccano — Ronciglione — Sienna — St. Catharine of Sienna — The Siennese beauty — The jealous Husband — Italian female education — The National female character 228 CHAPTER XIX. BOLOGNA. The First and Second Universities — Their Founders — The School of Painting — The Carracci and their Pupils — The former celebrity of the Italian Universities — Progress of the Sciences in Italy— The late Revolution at Bologna — Causes of its failure — Forms of Government suited to Italy— The prospects of Italy 236 CHAPTER XX. Modena — The Italian Siesta — The Duke of Modena — His unpopularity — Parma — Maria Louisa — Greatly liked — Mild in her government — Her faults — Corregio and Parmegiano, the pride of Parma 254 CHAPTER XXI. Italian Tragedy — The revolting nature of the tragic repre ¦ XX CONTENTS. FACE sentations of the Sixteenth Century — Refinement intro duced by Maffei — Further improved by Alfieri — His Dramas — Monti — His noble Drama, Aristodemo — His Political Inconsistencies — Pindemonte — Foscolo — His failure in the Drama — A fine Poet and Critic — His Ec centricities — Manzoni banishes the Unities from the Stage — Silvio Pellico, a Dramatist of great tenderness — Francesca di Rimini, and his other works 261 CHAPTER XXII. Travels with o Swiss Colonel from Parma to Milan — The Colonel a great admirer of Arbitrary Rule — Portrait of a Hypochondriac — Milan — The Brera — The Austrian Sol diers in the Picture Gallery — The Cathedral — Austrian Rule in Italy — The Excuse of its ^Panegyrists — An Im partial Statement of the Condition of the Lombards under Austria. 286 CHAPTER XXIII. Brief Notice of Italian Comedy — Its chief Ornaments — Goldoni — Sketch of his Character — Rossi a great Im prover of Comedy — Alberto Nota — True painter of Manners — The General Character of Italian Comedy.. 299 CHAPTER XXIV. A Short History of the more Celebrated of the early Italian Republics 311 CHAPTER XXV. A Brief Notice of the most Reraarkable Popes 340 APPENDIX. A Catalogue Raisonne of Italian Literary and Scientific Wr'ters 353 ERRATA. Page 24. last line, for par read pur — 69, line 15, for conTmo rtad convito — 72, — 12, for Diviua Comedia read Divina Commedia — 73. headline, for Ditina Comedia read Divisa Commedia — rs. line 6, for unto read into — 162, — 2 from bottom, for queste read quest' — 192, — 14, for Lintumum read Liternum — 244, — 6, for Davanzante read Davanzate — 244, — 12, for Galliani read Galiani — 308, — 8, for UAmmalata read L'Ammalato — 355, — 23, for Americo Vespucci read Amerigo Vespucci — 356. — 9, for Died 1530 read Died 1533 — 35?, — 18, for Guiccardini read Guicciardini — 358, — 2, for La Cortigima read La Cortigiana — 358, — 13, for Died 1569 read Died 15*9 — 360, — 16, for bom at Verona read bom at Ferrara — 366, — 2 from bottom, for Nicol6 read Niccolo — 368, — 14, /or Bosocvicfa read Boscovich. With the delightful feelings of hope, that so readily possess the youthful mind, and those in describable sensations of joy, excited by the pros pect of soon beholding scenes associated with my fondest schoolboy recollections, and hallowed by the religious respect they claim as the cradle of the Christian faith, I started from the French metro polis for Italia la Bella. B XX CONTENTS. PAGE sentations of the Sixteenth Century— Refinement intro duced bv "sFei- further ir-iroved by Alfipri— His Manners — The General Character of Italian Comedy.. 299 CHAPTER XXIV. A Short History of the more Celebrated of the early Italian Republics 31 1 CHAPTER XXV. A Brief Notice of the most Remarkable Popes 340 APPENDIX. A Catalogue Raisonne of Italian Literary and Scientific Writers 353 ITALY ITALIAN LITERATURE. CHAPTER I. Departure from Paris — Meeting the late Dauphin — Dijon under the Dukes of Burgundy — Remarlts upon Lyons — the late insurrectionary movements of the working classes — ^the Hotel Dieu — superiority of the French over English medical instruction — the injudicious re strictions of the French upon commerce. With the delightful feelings of hope, that so readily possess the youthful mind, and those in describable sensations of joy, excited by the pros pect of soon beholding scenes associated with my fondest schoolboy recollections, and hallowed by the religious respect they claim as the cradle of the Christian faith, I started from the French metro^ polls for Italia la Bella. 2 JOURNEY FROM PARIS. Little of interest arises to awaken the attention of the traveUer, through the monotonous plains of central France. The only circumstance that oc curred of an interesting nature, was the meeting, at the outskirts of the town of Tonnere, the unfor tunate Dauphin. He was then on his return to Paris, after inspecting the celebrated expedition to Algiers. His arrival was announced by a single avant-courier, and his whole suite consisted of but two carriages, his object being to travel incog., from a pretended unwillingness, at that critical juncture, to put the nation to unnecessary expense. We had descended from our vehicle to mount an acclivity, when we encountered the royal carriage ; only one of our party recognised and saluted the Dauphin ; upon which, with a seeming eagerness to be known, he returned the salutation in the most affable manner. There was a joyousness in his countenance, a Ught air of gaiety, and a seeming wish to please, which left a very favourable impres sion. No wonder he should have rejoiced within himself; he had just reviewed one ofthe best armies that France, for a long period, had sent forth, — BURGUNDY. O those happy fields, of which he one day looked to be Lord and Master, were passing in rapid succes sion before him. Alas ! how deceitful were the thoughts tliat the smile on his countenance ex pressed ; could " coming events have cast their shadows before," how would that brow have been shaded with gloom and sorrow, at that just retri bution with- which the folly of his house was so soon to be visited. There is nothing to break the traveUer's reverie, till he arrives near Dijon, to which there runs a canal agreeably wooded on each side. Dijon, for a French country town, is peculiarly neat and cleanly. The town-haU, and square in front of it, are the chief ornaments of the place. It was here that the famous states of Burgundy used formerly to assemble; and a wing is still preserved of the public palace, which once lodged the warlike princes of that ancient dukedom, who make such an important figure in the wars of France and Germany, down to the overthrow of Charles the Bold. Chalons has a tolerable inland commerce, sup- b2 4 JOURNEY FROM PARIS. ported by the canal to Lyons. Macon is only re markable for its wine, and the view from its bridge, on a clear day, of the distant Alps. But Lyons has been, and will always continue, an object of great interest to the traveller. This celebrated town, called Lugdunum by the Romans, being seated at the junction of two noble rivers, the Saone, and the Rhone, where the pas- 'Sage is not difficult, was the scene of many a san guinary contest during the Roman Commonwealth ; and under the emperors was signalized by the dread ful slaughter made upon its Christian inhabitants, headed by the martyr Pothinus, — a massacre which has never been surpassed in extent, save by that perpetrated by cruelty and infideUty, during the French revolution. Well may we exclaim with the poet, in connexion with the name of Lyons : " Blood hath been shed 'ere now i' the olden time. Ere human statute purged the gentle weal. Ay, and since too, murders have been performed — Too terrible for the ear." Much destruction of life and property has also lately marked the insurrectionary movements of LYONS. 5 the lower classes against their unoifending masters, arising from the general stagnation of trade, and the disappointment of the hopes, too eagerly enter tained, of the reforms and ameUorations held out by the present government. Tlie finest building in Lyons, is, without excep tion, the Hotel Dieu, more like a king's palace than a hospital. The internal arrangements are admirably conducted, and a good school of medi cine is attached to the institution. Too great praise cannot be bestowed on the laudable anxiety which the French governments, since the first revolution, have displayed in promoting the interests of science. The admirable manner in which medical instruc tion, in particular, is conducted at Paris, presents by no means a flattering comparison for us, if we consider the little patronage extended to it by the government in England. In France, merit is uot only rewarded when found out, but sought after and stimulated to exertion. The situations of in- terne and exteme, that is, of pupils with a salary, are open to public competition, and every office, up to that of the professor's chair, is the fair b3 6 JOURNEY FROM PARIS. reward of successful talent : the great cheapness of education brings the means of knowledge within reach of the poorest student ; an unlimited number of dissections, ample opportunities for practical chemistry, and all the other avenues to science are equally accessible. What a contrast to England ! where money and family connexions would seem to be the principal keys to knowledge and success. If indigent merit, in England, finally triumphs, it certainly owes nothing to public or govemment protection. It is matter for curious reflection, that though the French, owing to the facilities we have mentioned, are much better grounded in medi cal science than we are, yet, that our practice is attended with more successful results, particularly in acute diseases ; in chronic, probably, the reverse holds good. The explanation of this anomalous cir cumstance would seem to depend upon the French striving to cultivate medicine as a pure science, with mathematical precision, and making no allow ance for its imperfections, which are never lost sight of by the good sense of the English. As an instance of the views the French entertain, I LYONS. recoUect conversing with a celebrated French pa thologist upon the practice of only giving one remedy at a time, urging that a judicious combina tion might be more certain in its results, and more beneficial to the patient. " Comment donc," ex claimed the learned professor, " if we did that, how could we advance the interests of science ?" Doubt less, in accordance with such principles, there has been a host of victims, in French hospitals, immo lated on the altars of knowledge ; and probably, to judge from the national character, many a noble disinterested Frenchman, like the expiring soldier, who threw up his dissevered arm, shouting " Vive Napoleon," would exclaim, " Vive la science," while dying to promote it. In the silk trade too, the most important manu facture at Lyons, there is an elementary school to instruct young boys in drawing, and designing pat terns : a knowledge which proves so useful in after Ufe. From this school, the difierent manufacturers choose the most promising pupils, and provide for them in their own establishments. How much wanted are such institutions in Great Britain ! B 4 8 JOURNEY FROM PARIS. What great suffering would merit, in its severe struggles at the commencement, be spared, if a weU-regulated encouragement were held out, as there is in every department of knowledge in France. So far our neighbours are entitled to our approbation ; but we cannot extend the same commendations to the unwise restrictions they stiU continue upon commerce, or to the protection they afford some branches of industry to the injury of others ; giving to the iron trade, in which France never can excel, injudicious bounties, to the preju dice of the wine trade, in which, if encouraged, nature has enabled her to defy competition. THE RHONE. CHAPTER II. A pleasant Sail down the Rhone in an open Boat — A Dispute — The Author consulted — Disapproves of Hostilities — National Antipathies fast declining. The enjoyment I promised myself in the society of a French acquaintance, in a sail down the Rhone, and the advantage of having its interesting scenery pointed out by a native of the place, induced me to embark in an open boat for Avignon. Without the high cultivation, and garden-like scenery that dis tinguishes the banks of our great rivers, — our Clyde, our Forth, and our Thames, — the Rhone presents views on either side, which possess more interest from the recollections of history. Ruins of castles, and toppling remains of convents, every now and then rising on the steep sides, arrest b5 10 SAIL DOW^N THE RHONE. attention, carrying the mind back to the middle ages. The Roman Circus at Vienne, the Monument to Pius VL at Valence, the eelebrated vine-pro ducing slopes of the Cote Rotie, and Hermitage, and the dangerous rapidity of the current under the bridge of St. Esprit, are the objects most worthy of observation. The impetuosity of the Rhone is every where so remarkable, that the stream alone carries a vessel rapidly down, whereas, to ascend, requires the strong force of steam, or the power of many horses. During the voyage I was much amused: with a contentious broil that occurred between a French man and an Englishman ; and exhibited a striking indication of the antipathy which even at this time exists between the two nations. The provocation was, as ofteii happens, slight enough ; the sail of the boat happening to strike the Frenchman, whUe Captain S., of the English navy, was stepping on deck, was sufficient to excite the wrath, and call forth the gross abuse of the irritable Gaul. The patient Englishman made a calm and short reply, A DISPUTE. 11 but was meditating revenge, whilst his opponent appeared to think of going no farther than mere harmless abuse ; a characteristic mode of fighting among a certain class of Frenchmen, A country man and friend of Captain S. advised him to pro ceed to immediate hostiUties ; or, that being im practicable, surrounded as he was by Frenchmen, to challenge his foe on shore, if he had any pre tensions to the rank of a gentleman; if not, to give him the reward of a clown. Being called upon for my opinion, I declared, — " I should be much for open war, O peers. As not behind in hate," were I not aware of the impropriety of taking any more serious notice of the matter. I then pointed out that the irascible Frenchman was not entitled to be viewed in the light of a gentleman, and to inflict any more summary punishment, would not only be impossible, protected as he would be by his friends, but might entail a very dangerous chance-medley — an important consideration to me, his very dear countryman and adviser. This B 6 12 SAIL DOWN THE RHONE. Nestorean counsel having made a due impression, fortified as it was, doubtless, by the consideration of the great convenience of travelling with a whole skin, the aff'air went no further. It must be a subject gratifying to the philosopher to observe, that this absurd feeling of national anti pathy is fast wearing away, and that in its place, a growing disposition to friendship, based on mutual interests, is spreading among the two most civiUzed nations of the world, who should in future contend in the fields of science and civiUzation, instead of shedding each other's blood, and wasting treasures, not to be supplied but by the industry of cen turies. AVIGNON. 13 CHAPTER III. Avignon — Its ancient Recollections — The Popes at Avignon^ — Laura and Petrarch — The poetical region of Provence — The Provent^al Bards — Geoffry Rudel and the Countess of Tripoli — The Countess of Champagne and the Courts of Love — A short review of Petrarch's Life and Sonnets — Gibbon's opinion of Petrarch's love for Laura confuted. I TURN to a scene which recalls far different re collections, Avignon, the once renowned seat of pontifical splendour and priestly luxury. What a glorious circle of beauties and wits — the Colonnas and the Lauras, must have once adorned that gay, but immoral court, to the fascinations of whose enchanting society, Petrarch, in the hey-dey Oi his youth and vanity, completely surrendered him self. But what a sad picture has he drawn in his maturer years, of the vices that stained the ponti fical ermine ; of the avarice of Clement V. who 14 AVIGNON. revelled in the spoils of the Templars; of the still greater exactions of John XXII. and of the dissoluteness and venaUty combined of Clement VI. The former splendour of Avignon has long since vanished, and little remains to remind us of what it once was, but the ancient palace of the Popes, now turned into a barrack, and the dismantled tomb of Laura. On quitting Avignon, the country displays all the charms of a southern climate ; the olive, the mulberry tree, and the rich tints of the orange, first attract attention ; — the soft eyes of the vUlage girls, and the happy countenances of the shepherds tending their flocks, bring us back to the days of romance, to the- minstrels of Provence, and her wandering troubadours. Leaving to critics to decide, the question whence this early minstrelsy arose, — whether it sprang indigenous to the soil, — how far it had a gothic origin, — or whether it was transmitted from the Moors, through the early commercial intercourse with Spain, the more probable opinion, and what farther improvement it derived from the East, — 2 THE TROUBADOURS. 15 that primitive nurse of the imagination, during the Crusades — it is sufficient here to remark, the beneficial influence it exerted upon civilization, from its rise in the tenth century ; and to observe how deeply, during its most flourishing eras, the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Italian poetry is to it indebted for its growth and embellishment. What charming times were those, when courts of love were erected in every great city ; where some sovereign beauty, surrounded by her liege and loving subjects, decked in all the splendour of chivalry and gaiety, gave her final decision on the most intricate questions of that obscure and difficult subject, love, having previously heard the opposing arguments of two most profound and poetical advo cates on the disputed point ! How many broken hearts might be saved in the present day, had we stUl these courts of love, where, speedy justice was to be obtained, — instead of the delays in our never- ending courts of equity. What an amusing specta cle it must have been, to have heard two rival bards contend for victory, in these Tensons, and seen the victor crowned with laurel by the hands of the 16 AVIGNON. fair judge ! — Still is the memory preserved of the unfortunate Geoffry Rudel, who dying for love of the Countess of Tripoli, made a voyage to Africa to behold her, and having obtained her pitying smile, expired happy and contented; — ofthe famous Berenger ; — of our own romantic Richard Coeur de Lion, and his faithful Blondel ; — of the celebrated Countess of Champagne, who decided, in a solemn sitting, that the previous lover had rights superior to the husband, on the assumption that the vows of love, as the elder brother, should always take pre cedence of those of marriage ; a deliberate decision, which a queen of France, when referred to, would not reverse; — and last, though not least, of the good King Rene, who preferred the society of the Muses to the possession of a kingdom. However well these famous codes may square with the dictates of gallantry, from the decisions that have come down to us, we are sorry to confess, that their precedents were not always drawn from the moral law ; neither was the Bible the statute-book to which they invariably referred; and however learned and ingeniously they quoted from Scrip- PETRARCH. 17 ture and the schoolmen, their references and con ceits often savoured not a little of profanity, and still more of absurdity : but we should not be un grateful; since we must acknowledge that Provencal poetry had its use in civiUzing mankind, and open ing the way for Italian literature. Dante is full of admiration of their masters, " II famoso Arnoldo," and Vidal ; and none more so, than the poet who, through the associations of Laura and Vaucluse, may be called the peculiar bard of Provence. While paissing through the scenes so iUustrated by his muse, it may not be inappropriate briefly to notice the Ufe and writings of this celebrated man. Francesco Petrarcha was born at Arezzo, in 1304, of respectable parents, who were banished from Florence, as belonging to the proscribed party. The fugitives first sought refuge in difierent parts of Italy ; but sailed, at last, for Marseilles, and finaUy chose the vicinity of Avignon for their residence, -with a view to economy in their reduced estate. It was then that their little son saw the foun tain of Vaucluse for the first time ; and although only nine years old, its romantic scenery left such 18 AVIGNON. an impression on his youthful fancy, that neither time, nor the cares of the world could ever after obliterate the recollection. His father being poor, and not being able to support him without a profession, sent him to Montpellier to study the law; but Cicero and Virgil were the only law-hooks, whose pages he ever consulted. It is related, that his father seeing these authors in his hands, instead of finding him, as he expected, poring over the pandects of Jus tinian, was so enraged, that he threw the ancients into the fire : upon which, the young poet raised such cries for his favourite authors, that the father was moved to compassion, rescued the martyrs from the flames, and restored them to their youth ful admirer. After the death of this indulgent parent, he gave himself up to poetry, and mingled in the captivat ing, but corrupt society of Avignon. Besides the dangerous intimacies he then contracted, there were others of a very diff'erent character — John and James Colonna, both equally distinguished for their patriotism and their love of letters, and Laura, PETRARCH. 19 the guiding star that was to determine his future destiny, he also met at this court of pleasure. Laura, the wife of Hugues de Sade, of Avignon, as all the world knows, was graced with a highly accomplished mind, and possessed of exemplary virtue, and of great beauty. The celebrated meeting with this lady at the church of St. Clare on Holy Monday, the green colour of her gown, the compassionate colour of her eyes, it is to be presumed, of a diflferent hue, the love at first sight, the follow ing this " light from heaven " afterwards in the street, to admire the majesty of her walk, and the grace of her person, are now familiar to all poetical readers and lovers. There are few ladies of the particulars of whose beauty we have more faithful detaUs. None has ever had such a writer for her biographer. Notwithstanding this passion engrossed much of his time and thoughts, Petrarch exerted all the great eloquence he was master of, to persuade the Pope to return to Rome, and use the influence ofhis high station, for the benefit of the deserted city. These laudable exertions failed of success, in consequence 20 AVIGNON. of the apathy induced by the enervating dissipa tions of Avignon. If poetical renown, however, could be any consolation to the disappointed pa triot, few ever reaped so rich a harvest of fame. His name had already become celebrated by some smaller poems : but as soon as a part of the long Latin epic entitled Africa became known, he was looked upon as a kind of superior being. Princes vied with each other in paying him ho nour; the enlightened Robert of Naples, after publicly examining him for the poetical crown, paid him more respect than he could to a brother monarch ; and Rome and Paris contended which should first off'er him the laurel. This moment was, doubtless, the happiest and proudest of his Ufe ; the rest of his days were overshadowed with sorrow and despair. The first event that led to this distressful state of mind, was the disappointment of his hopes in the tribune Rienzi. Petrarch had a truly Roman spirit, which breathes so patheticaUy in his odes on Rienzi, and the calamities of Italy. — The successful over throw of the tyranny of the nobles, and the estab- PETRARCH, 21 lishment of a free republic, were heroic actions, that augured so well for the future, that the poet conceived the highest opinion of this regenerating Roman, But alas ! these enthusiastic hopes were soon blasted by the capricious tyranny which sud den and extraordinary success generated in a vain mind, and which, after a while, conducted to the imprisonment and death of the ambitious dema gogue. The next misfortune that threw a cloud over his days, was the death of Laura, who was swept off^ by the plague of Florence. The only solace Pe trarch e.xperienced in her irreparable loss, was in writing tender sonnets to her memory. The sonnets are divided into two books. Those of the first were written before her death. In these, the features, the thoughts, the person of his Laura, her minutest action in his presence, her bland encouragement to the depression, her dignified mode of repeUing the importunity of her lover, are expressed with that truth of colouring which passion alone could supply. Notwithstanding, the celebrated Gibbon has ex pressed his incredulity of Petrarch's love for Laura ; 22 AVIGNON. being unable to reconcUe to his phUosophie notions, how a person could feel a passion for a woman whose charms were gone, and constitution impaired by having been the mother of a numerous offspring. Without insisting upon first impressions being in delible, we may be allowed to dispute the autho rity of the philosopher of Lausanne, as it is to be presumed that he did not devote quite so much time and research to unfold the mysteries of the heart, as to elucidate the obscurities of history. Others have taken Laura for the object of a pure Platonic affection, or a mere personification of morality. It is to be feared, that very few could express such ecstacy for virtue, as Petrarch does, according to this supposition, for its Sign, Laura. But Tiraboschi and Foscolo are more judicious critics, who think that his immortal sonnets are full of incontrovertible proofs of the sincerity, of the constancy, and the violence of his passion, contain ing, as they do, so many delphic lines, which could never appeal so powerfully to all hearts, were they not inspired by a true passion. Who can read these beautiful lines : — PETRARCH. 23 * ' Ye waters clear and fresh, to whose bright wave She all her beauties gave, St)le of her sex in my impassioned mind ; Thou sacred branch so graced. With sighs even now retraced. On whose smooth shaft, her heavenly form reclined ; Herbage and flowers that bent the robe beneath. Whose graceful folds imprest her pure angelic breast ' ;" without believing the bard love-inspired. Who but he " who felt the wound," could give the ' " Chiare, fresche, e dolci acque, Ove le belle membra, Pose coiei che sola a me par donna ; Gentil ramo ove piacque, Con sospir mi remembra ! A lei di fare al bei fianco colonna ; Erba, e fior che la gonna, Leggiadra ricoverse, Con Tangelico seno." The foUo'wing well-known passage, flo'wing spontaneously from thc heart of a poet, of a very different age and nation, the fervour of whose passion cannot be questioned, and in which a resemblance naturally springs from similarity of subject and situation, may be cited as an additional corroboration ofthe genuineness of Petrarch's love. " Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild wooda, thickening green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined am'rous round the raptured scene. 24 AVIGNON. foUowing description, when oppressed with me lancholy : " All solitary, lost in thought, I stray, Meas'ring with slow, slack step the plains most drear ;" " Her golden tresses on the wind she threw, Whicli twisted them in many a beauteous braid. And in her fine eyes burning glances play'd. With lovely light, which now they seldom show'." " Not like a mortal's did her step appear ; Angelic was her form ; her voice, methought, Pour'd more than human accents on the ear '." " The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The bird sang love on every spray ; Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaimed the speed of winged day : "That sacred hour can I forget ? Can I forget the hallowM grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love." ' " Solo, e pensoso, i piu deserti campi, Vo misurando a passi tardi, e lenti : Erano i capei d'oro all' aura sparsi, Che'n mille dolci nodi gli awolgea : El vago lume oltra misura ardea, Di quel hegli occhi cV or ne son si scarsi.' 3 " Non era Tandar suo cosa mortale. Ma d'angelica forma, e le parole Sonavan altro, che par voce umana." PETRARCH, 2,5 Again, could any one but a poet, impressed with the deepest love, see, and so beautifully express, the changes that his mistress's countenance under went, at the sudden departure of her lover : " A tender paleness steaUng o'er her cheek, Veil'd her sweet smile as 'twere a passing cloud." " Her lovely looks with sadness downward bent. In silence to my fancy seem'd to say. Who calls my faithful friend so far away '." Finally, if a disease is to be known by its symp toms, no physician could have given a more just nosological description of the malady of the heart, than the patient himself has so well expressed, in these very accurate detaUs : " If on the brow each thought be pictured clear ; Tf words half uttered from the tongue retire. As apprehension or as shame inspire ; If on the cheek the violets' hue to wear ; ' " Quel vago impallidir ch'il dolce riso, D'un' amorosa nebbia ricoverse." " Chinava a terra il bei guardo gentile, E tacendo dicea, (com' a me parve) ; Chi m' allon tana ilmio fedele amico.'" 26 AVIGNON. If dearer than oneself another prove ; If constantly to weep, as much to sigh. Nursing the pangs, the griefs, the wrath of love. To burn when distant, and to freeze when nigh : If such fond causes doom me to despair. Though death be mine, thine is the guilt, my fab '." Indeed, the whole Ufe of Petrarch was coloured by this one absorbing passion. In vain he traveUed to banish the recollections ofit : it followed him like a spirit, wherever he went. In vain, he buried him self in the calm seclusion of Vaucluse : the vision of Laura arose to him in its deepest soUtudes, Fos colo has truly said, that the beautiful thoughts of Petrarch, were the sudden inspirations of deep pas sion ; first carelessly expressed in the letters to his friends, and afterwards, sometimes a long period in tervening, carefuUy put into verse, and revised with " Se nella fronte ogni pensier dipinto, — Od in voce interrotte appena intese : Or da paura, or da vergogna offese, S' un pallor di viola e d'amor tinto ; S' aver altrui piu caro che se stesso : Se lagrimar e sospirar mai sempre Pascendosi di duel, d'ira e d'affanno S' arder da lunge ed agghiacciar da presso, Son le cagion ch' amando i' mi distempre, Vostro Donna, '1 peccato e mio fia '1 danno." PETRARCH. 27 the greatest diligence. The quality of genius, as is justly observed, consisting chiefly in the power of vividly recaUing strong and by-gone impres sions. Hence, we may reconcile the extraordinary polish of his verses with the supposition of the reaUty of his love. It may, at first, appear surprising, that out of so many imitators, not one has ever come near the elegant style of Petrarch. Even the great Tasso himself, is cold in his sonnets, compared with the bard of Vaucluse, But Petrarch's love of learn ing, at whose newly-discovered fountains he was one of the first of moderns to drink ; his deep piety ; the melancholy tinge which his anomalous con nexion with Laura threw over him, and an ex treme fastidiousness of taste, joined to a wonderful susceptibility of nature, are so many particulars in his Ufe and mental constitution, which may serve to explain how he alone of aU poets has yet suc ceeded in depicting the history of an unhappy pas sion with matchless purity and elegance. c2 28 MARSEILLES, CHAPTER IV, Embarks at Marseilles for Genoa — Narrow escape from shipwreck off the coast of Italy — lands at Finale — Travels vrith a Genoese noble to Genoa — Andrea Doria — notice of tbe ancient Genoese Republic — Lord W. Bentinck — the late King and Queen at the theatre — the reigning King Charles Albert — His popularity with the Piedmontese — The im proving state of Sardinia. Mr, , of the very respectable mercantile house of , at Genoa, to the restoration of whose health I was the fortunate means of contri buting, off'ered to join our party in a sailing vessel to Genoa. We had soon cause to repent of having placed confidence in Italian sailors, for scarcely had we cleared the harbour of Marseilles, and be held ofi" Toulon, part of the Algerine fleet under sail — a very fine spectacle — than the wind began to blow freshly on our stern. This, so far from causing alarm, gave us merely hopes of a speedy A STORM AT SEA, 29 termination to our voyage. The isles of Hieres, so famous for oreinges, soon came in sight. The sun now began to descend, but without any splendour in his setting rays, which dimmed greatly the fine views the opposite coasts presented. Though we had little apprehension for the fate of the coming night, stiU, the general appearance of the sky was not such as to remove every doubt of its issue. The sun as he went down was enveloped in clouds, which becoming denser and denser, the horizon at length assumed a dark and threatening aspect. The wind at the same time began to freshen, and blowing full in our sails, bore us along with extraordinary speed. In the idea that it would fall on the approach of night, and buoyed up with the elastic spirits of youth, we even went so far in our temerity, as to chide our prudent captain for taking in sail. Our worthy Palinurus, though not the most skUful navigator in the world, had, however, sufficient sagacity to forsee the coming gale. He began to assume a blustering air, and ventured upon a few Italian oaths, which, com pared to the manner of a British sailor when c3 30 GULPH OF LYONS, roused, appeared very like mock heroic. " // vento," to use his expressions, would become " multo fresco ;" and he insisted upon our going down to the cabin. The result proved how just the prediction was; for we soon heard the sp^ay washing the deck, and the waves lashing the crazy sides of the vessel in such a manner, that it seemed as if the first dead stroke she encountered would be sufficient to sink her. Wrapt up in these gloomy anticipations, all of a sudden we heard a crash. Upon inquiry, we learnt that the mizenmast had snapt in twain. This misfortune arose from the tardiness of our sailors in easing off their canvass on being struck by a sud den squall. Indeed, had it not been for the intre pidity of a young American, the little vessel would have been inevitably capsized ; but he, hearing the noise, rushed on deck, and, by letting go the rope which confined the heavy sail of our remaining mast, succeeded in bringing her head to the wind, and righting her. The next loss we suffered was our boat, which caught by an engulphing wave, would, probably. A STORM AT SEA, 31 have carried the bark along with it to the bottom, had not the connecting ropes been promptly cut. Wishing to know the worst, we went on deck, A curious scene presented itself: the sailors on their knees, alternately crying, praying, and striking their breasts, had abandoned aU care of the vessel. What a contrast to British sailors in a similar situation ! The captain, unmindful of his duty, by frequently exclaiming "tutto e perduto," (all is lost,) inspired his men, if it were possible, with additional terrors. To add to the horrors of our situation, the night was, except at intervals, impenetrably dark; when the huge biUows which, every now and then, rose almost over our bark, appeared like a dark veil drawn around us. My feUow travellers, standing as we aU did, on the brink of a watery grave, displayed much greater self-possession than the Italians. Whether it was that we stiU entertained hope of safety, through not comprehending the full danger of our position, or that we had more, courage, I know not ; but certainly we conducted ourselves in a very handsome manner, and at least kept our fears quietly lodged in our own breasts. c4 32 GULPH OF LYONS. I recollect asking my more experienced com panion when we should reach shore. " God only knows," was the reply ; " to-morrow, perhaps, if we ever reach it. ' Oh never will sun that morrow see,' " I certainly shall not soon forget how that emphatic word ever, fell upon my ear. On another occasion, this gentleman displayed his habits of cleanUness — the ruling passion strong in death — by desiring the cabin boy to remove something offensive that was near him, who most significantly made answer, " Ah, Signore, non importa," (it is of no conse quence,) " all will soon be clean enough," Fortunately for us, our steersman showed him self to be not without some skill; and by the helm, and a temporary foresail, managed to hu mour the waves, and keep the vessel driving before the wind. In the expectation that the gale would subside on the approach of morning, we were all anxiously waiting for its appearance. And no sooner did the dawn break, than the wind and waves fell. What eager looks the rising light discovered in our shivering sailors, on the look out for land ! At length land was descried at about 10 THE GENOESE NOBLE, 33 miles distant, for which we made with a slow and steady sail. We hoisted a flag of distress, and were rejoiced to perceive our signal soon answered from the shore, by seeing a fishing smack coming to our relief, which conveyed us, to our perfect content, to the small harbour of Finale. From Savona, a favourite sea bathing resort, we were conveyed to Genoa, by the public diligence, in very promiscuous society : a Genoese noble man, a nurse, and a gardener. The manners of the first were certainly refined; his dress, which was somewhat motley, detracted from his appear ance, so that unless vouched for on good authority, it would have been difficult to recognize the man of rank; but on further acquaintance, the manners of the poUshed- gentleman broke through his slovenly disguise ; and nothing could have been more obUg ing than the manner in which he detailed to us the local history of the various country seats that lay on our route. His mind appeared endowed with all that active energy, acquired probably in those busy mercantile pursuits, which the Genoese nobles do not disdain to follow, unUke their listless c5 34 GENOA. and vain brethren of the south. The only thing that detracted, in our estimation, from his claims to good taste, was, the too great partiaUty he felt for the little painted villas that on each side ostenta tiously displayed themselves. From these general strictures must be excepted the viUa and gardens of Doria, with the fine prospects of the viUage and bridge of Sestri, the Sunday resort of the Genoese. The harbour of Genoa now appeared in view, with the grand amphitheatre of houses rising above it. The encomiums passed on this noble view have not been exaggerated. The King and Queen were just going out to take an airing. " Oh, sure a pair !" There was little of royalty visible in the countenance of either, although the high Savoy blood had been mingled with the richer stream of the Stuarts ; not to talk profanely, they looked a homely old country couple taking an evening ride after dinner. The first object that attracts notice is the Doria palace, which recaUs to mind Genoa's most glorious patriot, Andrea Doria. What a noble display of THE DORIA. 35 more than Roman virtue was his, when, after rescuing his native city from the thraldom of Francis the First, and, with the aid of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, restoring the Uberties of his country, he with a magnanimity equal to that of a Washington, descended to the rank of a citizen, when fortune tempted him with the dazzUng pros pect of a throne. The covert way, by which he made his escape from his dweUing to the garden, from the pursuit of the Fiesco conspirators, is still shown. WeU did that ambitious noble merit his fate, in being drowned, when in the act of con spiring against the life of the greatest man that Genoa ever produced. The three principal streets — one gUttering range of polished marble, — the Durrazzo, the BabU, and Serra palaces, even still entitle the city to the name of Genoa " la superba." The new buildings of the theatre St. Agostino, and the hospital, are justly admired. But, thanks to the Austrians^ who commenced the piUage, and the French who com pleted it, the famed bank of St. George is no more, which once formed so safe and economical a place c 6 36 GENOA. of deposit for the pubUc money, by preventing its transfer abroad in commercial dealings. It wUl not be necessary in this place to give more than a brief notice ofthis famed repubUc, as its more lengthened history is included in our notices of the repubUcs of Pisa and Venice. It is sufficient here to state, that Genoa, at the head of the Ligurian republic of old, feU successively under the Roman, Greek, Lombard, and Frank power. The modern repubUc dates from the tenth century. After com pletely subverting the independence of Pisa, at the sea-fight of Meloria, Genoa maintained a series of wars with its formidable rival, Venice, with alternate success, although once a Doria, who was on the point of putting a bridle on the horses of St, Mark, by the capture of Chiozza, the fort commanding the Lagunes, was obliged to retire discomfited. On the restoration of its independence, by Andrea Doria, as we have already mentioned, Genoa ranked high as a naval power, and commercial state, till obliged, by Louis the Fourteenth, to reduce its navy to the number of six galleys. During the war of the Spanish succession, Austria FALL OF GENOA, 37 obtained temporary possession of the city. It was again blockaded by this power during the wars of the French revolution, when it was defended by Massena, By the treaty of Campo Formio, the independence of Genoa was recognized, but this was only nominal, and the city was only finally rescued from French domination, in 1814, by Lord William Bentinck, who, in violation of the stipulations en tered into, was obUged by the British ministry then in power, to surrender it, by the treaty of Vienna, to the Sardinian monarch, — Lord Castlereagh, a minister who entertained no love for republics, endeavoured by this compliment to Sardinia, to secure a free port in the Mediterranean for British vessels. Though faUen from her former high estate, when to maintain her extensive commerce, Genoa pos sessed the flourishing colonies of Caffa and Tana, in the Crimea, and those of Pera and Galata, near Constantinople, stiU, since her port has been opened, her trade has been graduaUy increasing. The exports from Genoa consist chiefly of oUve oU, a rich source of revenue to the nobles, of fruit, cheese, paper, and costly velvet. 38 GENOA. The late king of Sardinia was very unpopular at Genoa, where he resided three or four months in the summer. I saw him at the theatre, where he was almost a nightly visitor. He was ushered in with the usual ceremonies : wax Ughts were borne before him, &c. ; but a private box only was appro priated to the royal party. His consort, a very plain woman, was constantly at his side, and judiciously placed near her, to serve as a foil, a woman stUI plainer than herself, Charles Felix was the very beau-ideal of one born but to consume the fruits of the earth. His sole occupation in Ufe seemed to consist in ogling the beauties of the theatre, and above all, in admiring the legs of the performers in the hallet. He had, however, the character of ' being good-natured and well meaning ; which would incline us to impute to evil advisers his having con tinued, contrary to the promises given at the treaty of Vienna, by his predecessor, to suppress all the useful changes that had taken place during twenty years, and, in their stead, to support every old abuse ; namely, an administration without control ; an arbitrary system of justice ; and the oppressive privUeges of the ancient nobility, whilst the THE KING OF SARDINIA. 39 country was loaded with taxes ; and agriculture, commerce, and education, were utterly neglected. The present King, Charles Albert, better known as the Prince Carignano, who joined the revolu tionists of 1821, tempted by the hope of obtaining possession of the throne of united Italy, displayed the greatest want of spirit in abandoning his associ ates to the power of Austria : he probably soon saw that their disunion rendered their cause entirely hopeless ; and we know that whilst many were cla morous for the adoption of the French constitution, others were as violently in favour of the Spanish. Charles Albert, though disliked by the Genoese, is not unpopular with his hereditary subjects of Piedmont, His government is despotic, but not tinjust ; strict economy is observed in the financial department of the state, and the people not being oppressed with heavy taxes, are tolerably prosper ous and contented. In a word, Sardinia, from the advantages she possesses in her fine harbours, from the increase of her trade, and the improvement that has recently taken place in her navy, promises to become one of the wealthiest states in Italy. 40 PISA. CHAPTER V, Journey from Genoa to Pisa— tbe early revival of tbe arts in that city— the advantages which the Italian Republics conferred upon Italy and Europe — a visit to Florence — tbe performance of an impro visatore on a country tour. One of the most charming routes that can be taken, in sultry weather, runs along the sea coast from Genoa to Pisa. The fine road, now ascending on the borders of the Appenines, now opening on the cooling breezes of the sea, the noble bay of Spezia, the inexhaustible quarries of Carrara, and the cele brated little Republic of Lucca, are objects highly interesting to the traveller, and conduct him after a few days pleasant journeying, to the ancient city of Pisa, one of the first that obtained celebrity among the ItaUan RepubUcs, Independently of ANTIQUITIES OF PISA, 41 the interest created by the historical recoUections attached to this once formidable rival of Genoa, it has further claims on our attention, as containing the earliest specimens of the revival of the art of painting in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. The venerable Duomo of the eleventh century, the Baptistry and Leaning Tower of the Twelfth, but more particularly the Campo Santo, or burial ground, of the thirteenth, are places where the exiled Greek painters gave their first lessons in design to the earUest native artists : Cimabue, Giotto, Memmi, Andrea Pisano, and Orcagna, The fresco paintings of Giotto in the Campo Santo, descriptive of the history of Job, are stiU very much admired for their design, though deficient in colouring and drapery. The revivers of painting here had the further merit of having prepared the way for those great masters of the Florentine school — Massaccio — AUori — Ghirlandajo — Carlo Dolci — Angelo — and Leonardo da Vinci, Before entering on the very brief histories, to be found in their appropriate places, of the principal Italian Republics, Pisa, Florence, Venice, and 42 PISA. Milan, a few general observations may be pre mised, to place in a true point of view the influ ence which the free institutions of these republics had upon Europe, and to show, more particularly, the degree of happiness which they conferred on their respective states. With one class of historians, the unsettled nature of these republican governments, their internal dis sensions, and mutual animosities, form a theme of unmeasured censure and condemnation ; whilst with another class of very opposite opinions, the halo of glory formerly shed around these famous States, caUs forth, not only their warmest admiration, but makes them sigh for their re-estabUshment, It will not be difficult to demonstrate the incorrectness of both these extreme views. The Italian republics owed their origin partly to the alarm caused by the progress of the Sara- Cen arms, when the different towns were left to protect themselves ; and partly to the encourage ment held out to the people by Otho the Great, to arm themselves against their native princes. As soon as the inhabitants of the principal towns THE ITALIAN REPUBLICS, 43 had secured themselves by the erection of waUs and turrets, they turned their attention to the formation of their respective constitutions, the principal features of which were very similar. The people, at first, by means of their general assemblies, the grand depositories of power, and by the election of Consuls, from among themselves, in whom the executive authority was lodged, secured a complete controul over their Uberties. But a variety of causes soon conspired to derange these primitive and democratic forms of govern ment; the jealousy of the people towards the nobles, who began ere long to encroach on the po pular rights, and the mutual animosities thus engen dered; the invasions and usurpations of the German Emperors, causing the aristocracy and the people to espouse opposite sides ; the great rivalry which commerce, foreign conquests, and renown in arms, gave rise to; and above all, the long and protracted struggles for power maintained between the Em perors and the Popes, the first at the head of the GhibelUne, the latter of the Guelph faction, were so many causes combined, which not only sowed 44 PISA, bitter feuds between rival states, but rendered each town in itself a prey to dissension. The nobles, though for some time baffled, eventually succeeded in obtaining a paramount influence, Milan was among the first to receive a master, in the noble family of the Della Torre, which acquired power by attaching itself to the interests of the people ; but the influence of this family was not of long duration, bemg superseded by that of the more powerful one of the Visconti, which long retained sovereignty in Milan, Venice, by establishing an hereditary nobiUty about the same period, became a pure aristocracy. Of the smaller states, different families took nearly absolute pos session ; the house of Este of Ferrara, the DeUa Scala of Verona, the Polenta of Ravenna, the Gonzaga of Mantua, and the Carrara of Padua. Florence, and Genoa, but particularly the latter, longest retained their democratic forms of govern ment. But the glory of the Italian repubUcs terminated, as Sismondi justly observes, in the sixteenth century, Florence fell under the au thority of the Medici, and the rest of these states, THE ITALIAN REPUBLICS. 45 Venice and Genoa excepted, submitted to the Spanish or Austrian yoke. The dissentions, and the unsettled nature of these republics, as we have said, are the chief grounds of objection brought against them by the admirers of absolute monarchy. But if we take a wider and more philosophical view of the subject, these evils, often very much exaggerated, were counterbalanced by glorious advantages, of which Italy and Europe have been equal partakers. In the first place, these civil feuds, when Germans and other foreign ers did not interfere, were seldom attended with much bloodshed, the warriors of each party going out every summer, as if to a tournament, to settle by combat their mutual differences, and returning to their usual avocations after the termination of the contest. But even admitting that there was occasionally considerable loss of life — and in the contests between Pisa and Florence, the blood shed was often great — still, how much more Sanguinary were the wars of the rest of Europe ? witness the deadly strife between France and England, which was seldom interrupted, — the 46 PISA. bloody feuds of the Roses in the latter country, and those of the factions of Burgundy, Orleans, and Armagnac in the former. Admitting, however, that the balance of happiness, or rather of unhap piness, in this respect, stood equal between Italy and the rest of Europe, ought not the preference to be awarded to those institutions under which the comforts, the elegancies, and the luxuries of life were diffused through the channels of a beneficent commerce, under which refinement of mind was fostered upon the revival of learning, and the civilization of mankind at large promoted by the successful cultivation of the arts and sciences, but above aU by the high price here set upon inde pendence ? When the rest of Europe lay plunged in night and barbarism, Italy had her poets and her philosophers ; whilst the population of the lands around her were the serfs and bondsmen of their imperious lords, Italy was a nation of banded freemen, cherishing the spark of agenerous Uberty, nearly extinct in all the world besides, and trans mitting it in its purity, to kindle the flame which we now see burning steadily in some more fa- THE IMPROVISATORE, 47 voured spots, and ready to burst into a blaze in others. Bidding adieu to Pisa, I hastened to visit Florence, Not far from this city, in a sweet little retired village, pleasantly situated on the declivity of a gentle hiU, where content and smiling happi ness, the fruits of rural industry, beamed in each rustic countenance, we halted for the evening. To the no small satisfaction of our party, we learnt that a celebrated improvisatore, who happened to be on a provincial tour, had been prevailed on to delight the joyous inhabitants, for that night only, by the display of his extraordinary talents. This exhibition having the charm of no velty for most of us, was thankfully received at fortune's hands. We were all punctual, therefore, to the appointed hour, and carefuUy secured our seats in the smaU but neat theatre, which was so soon to be graced by the presence of the bard. After a considerable interval employed in impressive preparation, a practice common with great men, adopted probably in the hope of rendering their appearance more 2 48 THE IMPROVISATORE, imposing, the long looked-for hero presented him self. His air was rather prepossessing, and his person most scrupulously adorned to the nicest point of fashion. After having read over, in a slow and solemn manner, the rules to be ob served in this poetic exhibition, he caUed for a subject worthy of his muse. The theme selected by one of the audience. Napoleon at Elba, was received with perfect composure, and with aU the gravity of a parish clerk, was duly committed to paper ; then slowly rising, and reading it over carefully, he proceeded to pace the boards with melancholy steps and slow, while, " his brow like to a tragic leaf," he ruminated over the delphic sheet which he held in his hand. One moment, as if suddenly seized by the poetic flatus, he marched with rapid strides, in the next, slightly starting, he halted, as if his muse had met with some unusual obstacle ; to clear away this impediment, he drew a perfumed handkerchief from his pocket, and by applying it soothingly to his nose, he seemed to succeed in propitiating her. Again he slackened his pace to take a pinch of THE IMPROVISATORE. 49 snuff, and lastly, applying his forefingers forcibly to his forehead, to support it under the throes of the forthcoming birth, he, in a most monotonous tone of voice, gave utterance to her inspirations, sawing the air aU the while with his extended arm. His poetic effusions flowed pretty rapidly, and were honoured with due applause. On the conclusion of this first exhibition of his powers, he sat down, apparently rather exhausted, and afterwards retired for a short interval to recruit his strength. The next performance consisted of the compo sition of a series of lines, a certain number of which terminated with given syllables. This task, which must have required considerable practice, was also completed to the general satisfaction. On the whole, our poet, though at no period of his improvisation, Uke some modern Corinna, affected to tears, (nor indeed was his audience,) seemed to understand his trade well. Far, however, from trembUng under the inspirations of the god, like the Pythian priestess of old, our Magnus ApoUo never once lost himself; nor do I believe that D 50 JOURNEY TO FLORENCE. any consideration, either human or divine, could have diverted him from his subject ; to it he most tenaciously adhered ; he gave all he bargained for, but not a tittle beyond. FLORENCE, 51 CHAPTER VI. The appearance of Florence — The recollections it calls up — The justice of the comparison made between it and Athens — The Gallery of Florence— .The Venus di Medici — The Pitti Palace — The Venus of Canova — A very brief notice of the state of Literature in the Fif teenth Century, before it burst forth, in all its splendour, in the Sixteenth. The environs of the Tuscan metropolis are highly cultivated, being covered with different kinds of grain, but particularly wheat, repaying the la bourer's toU three-fold. The whole face of the country is agreeably diversified by valleys and lofty hiUs, among which, the deep groves of VaUombrosa, whence Milton is supposed to have drawn some of his richest descriptions, far to the right spread their imbowering shades. A little d2 52 FLORENCE. nearer Florence stands the celebrated Chartreuse, the seat of those religious austerities, which excite the pity of the many, the sympathy and admiration of the few. As the traveUer advances nearer to the centre of this great amphitheatre of Mils, the busy villages of the Tuscan commonwealth present themselves to view, in the midst of which the suburban villa of the Grand Duke forms a most conspicuous object, — Who on entering Florence, " The Etrurian Athens, * * * Where modern luxury was of commerce bom. And buried learning rose redeemed to a new morn," — does not feel an interest in the classic recollec tions of this enchanting city ? What lover of the popular cause, but must feel proud of the long struggles she maintained, in asserting the rights of the many over the privileges of the few? What mind, in which there exists one particle of love of learning, or a taste for the refined and beautiful in art, but must feel the yearnings of aff'ection towards that spot, where the one arose again with fresh vigour, and the other attained its highest perfec tion? PARALLEL WITH ANCIENT ATHENS. 53 The striking resemblance that existed between Florence and Athens has often been observed: — the same ardent thirst for liberty; the same watchful jealousy for its medntenance; the same violent factions, by which both states were dis tracted ; the same commercial wealth ; the same love of arts ; the same refinement of taste ; the same witty and satirical turn of mind. If the one can boast her Pericles, the adorner of her city, the other can proudly produce her Lorenzo de Medici; — if the ancient city hung with raptures over the tragic page of her .Eschylus, her Sophocles, her Euripides; the sublime Dante, the love-in spired Petrarch, the enchanting Boccaccio, were equally in the hearts and on the lips of the modern one; — did wit degenerate into licentiousness in Aristophanes, it was carried to equal excess in Aretino, Pulci and Berni ; — was the one tyran nized over by Pisistratus, the tyrant Duke of Athens attempted to forge chains for the other ; — had Athens her historians, — her Thucydides, her Xenophon; Florence also had her Guicciardini, her MachiavelU, and her Villani ; — did Phidias, Praxi- d3 54 FLORENCE, teles and Polygnotus embellish one city -with their immortal works of art, the other was equaUy orna mented by BandineUi, Brunelleschi, and Michael Angelo; — was Socrates put to death for surpass ing mankind in knowledge, in like manner was Galileo imprisoned for asserting the true theory of the earth ; — is Athens accused, in the unamiable part of the picture, with ingratitude to her Aris tides, her Themistocles, her Cimon ; Florence was no less unjust to her Dante, her patriot Pazzi, her Strozzi; — to complete the resemblance, was a tyrant, the general of Alexander, established over Athens, Florence also received a master in Alexander de Medici. The gallery of Florence is, next to the Vatican, the widest field of study presented to the con noisseur. Without pretension to so high a title, it is yet impossible to refrain, Uke other un initiated writers, from remarking on a few of the striking objects that here meet the eye. For this splendid temple of the fine arts, we are indebted to the refined taste of the first Medici, the noblest gift which princely munificence has THE GALLERY, 55 ever conferred. Within its walls an uninterrupted history of painting may be read, from its first imperfect dawning in Tuscany, in the eleventh century, tiU it set, with aU its brUUancy, in the rich tints of Venice. Numerous interesting remains are here also preserved of the sister arts, consist ing of vases, and Etruscan ornaments, which date from a period even antecedent to the Roman history. The palace itself, of which the gallery only forms a wing, was built by Arnolfo ; in its spacious court some of the finest masterpieces in art are exposed to the open air, without injury, particu larly the famous Perseus and Medusa of Cellini, which reflect infinite credit on the taste and care with which they are executed. Beside these are placed, as it were in competition, the Hercules and Cacus of BandineUi, which would inflict a deep wound on the pride of the irritable and pug nacious CeUini, were he living ; but posterity has forgotten the many calumnies of this versatile artist, and has done justice to the merits of his rival. d4 56 FLORENCE. In the principal room, where a fine collection of the busts of gods and emperors is preserved, one cannot avoid being struck with Bandinelli's imi tation of the " Laocoon." Of the several schools arranged in different chambers, the Venetian, which exhibits the glowing colours of Titian and Paul Veronese, bears the palm. There is an interesting coUection of portraits of the different painters in another chamber ; but few of them are good pic tures. Perhaps as the result of a pardonable vanity, the artists, like fond mothers, were more solicitous about their offspring, than anxious to set off their own persons to advantage. With the exception of the caricatures of Mieris, there is but a small collection of the Dutch school. But a visit to the noble hall of the " Niobe," would of itself repay the traveller for a journey to Flo rence ; I had heard of statues, but never tiU then had I seen a connected story told in stone. In this splen did group, from the afflicted mother, who shelters her youngest infant under her robes, from the shafts of Apollo, through the various gradations of alarm and grief, depicted in the looks of her disconsolate THE GALLERY, 57 chUdren, down to her prostrate son who has just expired, there is a pathetic connexion of narration, which, requires little ingenuity to unravel ; the whole is the closing scene of a deep tragedy ; the moment here made immortal, that in which the emotion of the impassioned actors makes us feel that the tale has reached the pitch of woe over which the curtain must descend. — But, oh ! the tribune ! Elsewhere are beheld the scattered rays of genius ; here they are collected into one focus, in the centre of which " Venus loves in stone. And fills the air around with beauty." Notwithstanding the surpassing loveUness of this statue, it requires a peculiar light, to be seen to perfection, as if the Goddess half hid her charms tiU suitably wooed by the " God of Day." Her delicate limbs then UteraUy shine under his obUque beams ; and her eyes, half closed, half smiUng, look into the beholder's for a return of love. "The Wrestlers," "the dancing Fawn," "the Slave sharpening his knife to flay Marsyas," though works of the highest order, are aU ecUpsed by the statue " that enchants the world." In the magic circle d5 58 FLORENCE. around the " Venus" are displayed many of the most beautiful works of the modern painters, as if they had assembled here to do homage to her loveliness : among the most conspicuous are the two Venuses of Titian ; dangerous to look upon : a " Holy Family" by Raphael; another by Andrea del Sarto; and the " St. John in the WUderness" : — all works of the first character, and which in no wise suffer even in contrast with the noblest efforts of the ancients, a sufficient proof to the sceptic of the perfection of the modern school of painting. The Palazzo Pitti, the residence of the Grand Duke, built by Ammannati, is too much in the prison style. From the gardens of BoboU there are some good prospects. The grand saloon is rich in pictures, the most celebrated of which is the well- known « Madonna deUa Seggiola" of Raphael, in the act of pressing the infant to her maternal breast. The "Fates" of Michael Angelo are fuU of Ms stern sublimity. In the « Prometheus" of Salvator Rosa, it is appaUing to observe the Vulture gnawing the chained giant as he lies supine. Nor can I pass over in silence the " Venus" of Canova, that first of mo- CHURCHES. 59 dem sculptors. The head of the goddess is elegantly incUned to one side, and the hand employed in drawing the robe to the bosom is finely imagined, and beautifully characteristic of female modesty. This modern Venus, however excellent, will not bear comparison with the ancient one. She has not those light and justly proportioned limbs, that elastic airiness of form, that spirituality of countenance, so conspicuous in the latter. How ever, if we look upon the one as the personifi cation of a divinity, we must also admit the other to be that of a most beautiful mortal. Of the churches, though much inferior to the Roman temples, there are a few well worthy of examination. With regard to the cathedral, I con fess, I was not famUiar enough with the appearance which wMte marble presents, and with which it is crusted, to admire it particularly on the first view ; but I could weU understand how Angelo was en raptured with the dome of Brunelleschi, the first ever constructed, and wMch afterwards served for the model of that of St. Peter's. There is nothing worthy of notice in the interior. — The Campanile d6 60 FLORENCE. Of belfry adjoining is a beautiful structure, well meriting the eulogium of Charles the Fifth, " that it deserved to be cased in gold !" Behind is the Baptistry, formerly a temple of Mars, which has retained much of the beauty of its pure and sim ple original, the Pantheon : the bronze doors are by Ghiberti, the alto reUevos of which are so beautiful, that they were worthy, according to Angelo, to be the gates of Paradise. Before quitting this nursery of letters and sci ence, it may not perhaps be deemed irrelevant to take a cursory survey of them from their rise in the fourteenth century, to their rapid advancement subsequently, under that noble patron of letters, Cosmo de Medici, till they had almost reached their zenith, under the princely protection of Lorenzo the Magnificent. The Troubadours of Provence, whom we have already mentioned as flourishing during the thir* teenth and fourteenth centuries, emigrated during that period to the south of Italy, in consequence of the invitations and encouragement they received from the Sovereigns of Naples. The style of EARLY ITALIAN LITERATURE. 61 poetry of these emigrants soon disseminated it self through their newly adopted country. Fan tastic conceits, a kind of metaphysical love, and a certain conventional language, were scrupulously copied by the early Italian poets. Even the two great founders of the art, Dante and Pefrarch, did not escape the contagion. When we join to this, the love for ancient learning and school divinity, that was conspicuous in these two great geniuses, we shall easily discover the source of many of their beauties and defects. Boccaccio, who has the merit of having formed Italian prose, constitutes the other distinguished member of this illustrious triumvirate, wMch not only composed a new language, but brought it to surprising perfection. After these great originals, singularly enough, the rising Uterature retrograded for nearly a cen tury and a half; during which time, not a single writer of great genius appeared, to pursue the glorious path that had been pointed out by the three great Florentines. The recent discovery ofthe lost classics, and the conquest of Constan tinople by Mahomet, were the two events that 62 FLORENCE. operated in checking, for a time, the first bril liant career of poetic invention. The first turned the attention of all minds to the study of these new found treasures ; and the conquest of Mahomet drove the learned Greek exiles to Florence, where, under the noble patronage of the Medici, they still further increased the taste for learning. Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio would have been great, with or without encouragement; but the laborious writers of the fifteenth century, like plants of a stunted growth, appeared to require all the fostering care of those princely patrons of letters. Pope Nicholas the Fifth, Philip Visconti of Milan, Jolm Francis Gonzaga of Mantua,, and Cosmo de Medici of Florence, From this careful culture arose those very learned men, with Uttle original genius, Poggio, Laurentius VaUa, John Pico della Mirandola, Merula the grammarian, MarsiUo Ficino the translator of Plato, and his more celebrated pupU Politian, This recurrence to the ancients, instead of being blameable, was highly praiseworthy. What could be a more natural proceeding than that the revivers THE LATER ITALIAN LITERATURE, 63 of learning should have recourse to those pure fountains, whence all arts and learning arose. We need not wonder, therefore, that learning, taking thus its right direction, and the imagina tion receiving its proper nourishment, genius should have arisen with such splendour during the sixteenth century ; and that the bards of romance and chivalry, Boiardo, Berni, Ariosto, Tasso, and Pulci, their minds stiU further enriched with eastern imagery, should have appeared to the delight of mankind. These great poets had too fertUe a vein to be much injured by imitation ; but, in the other fields of the imagination, the too close following of classic models exercised an injurious influence, which is but too perceptible in the Latin epics of Vida, Trissino, and Sannazarius, though in them elegance and harmony are carried to the highest pitch. The revivers of the drama showed more originality, but much less refinement: in tragedy, Trissino, Rucellai, and Alamanm, endeavoured to introduce the spirit of the Greek tragedies, with out considering the difference of time, manners, 2 64 FLORENCE, and people; in comedy, Bibbiena and Ariosto, though replete with dramatic vigour, are far too gross to deserve much commendation. But the cultivators of the sciences in the sixteenth century, are deserving of great praise, for eman cipating themselves from the dogmas of Aristotle, which had been long followed, and substituting in their place, the new and more imaginative doc trines of Plato, thereby preparing the mind, once freed from its long-accustomed chains, to receive the true philosophy, founded on experiment and induction, which Bacon was so soon to point out, and GaUleo to reduce to practice. DANTE. 65 CHAPTER vn. Dante — The Divina Comedia — New views of Rossetti upon the allegories of that poem — The question whether or not Beatrice is to be viewed as a pei'soniBcation of morality. After this very imperfect summary of the former flourishing state of Italian literature, of which Florence was the favourite seat, we cannot refrain from dwelUng for a moment, on a few of the illus trious names that adorned this celebrated republic ; and who triumphantly show, how much a state of very limited extent is capable of effecting under the fostering hand of Liberty. Minds like those of Dante, Boccaccio, Machia velli, and Galileo, were unquestionably cast in 66 FLORENCE. Nature's finest mould: and these, the founders of ideal and of actual worlds, were all perhaps alike illustrious, although the sphere in which each revolved was different. The bard of HeU, and Purgatory, and Paradise, who was the first to arise like a sun, • dispelUng the mists of the dark ages, rivaUing, and even extinguishing by his appearance, aU preceding lights ; he who, not con tent with painting earth, with all its sad and fate ful history, soared on the wings of imagination, creating other worlds, may weU challenge priority of attention. Dante Alighieri, the father of modern poetry, was born at Florence in 1265. His family, of ancient and honourable descent, were all Guelphs. The poet's real name was Durante ; but for shortness he was called Dante. Letters and the arts, particularly music and painting, early spread their fascinations over his youthful imagination ; and under the exceUent tuition of Brunetto Latini, his progress in learning was most surprising. Like so many other poets, whose passions are early developed, he was only nine years of age, when he first saw his beloved DANTE. 67 Beatrice, a child of his own years ; subsequently, frequent meetings turned the caprice of the boy into the passion of the man ; and she, in whose honour he wrote his Divine Comedy, became his first and only love. As his mind was subject to extreme depression and melancholy, he found in the charms of music, and the intimacies he culti vated with the musician CaselU, at once an agree able and necessary relaxation. UnUke Horace, he did not throw away his shield in battle, but distinguished himself as a brave man in his coun try's wars against Arezzo and Pisa. His life had hitherto passed in tranquillity ; but he received a shock in the loss of his incom parable Beatrice, at the age of twenty-five, from which he never perfectly recovered. To soothe, in some degree, his affliction, he married a certain lady named Gemma Donati, who proved a Job's comforter, indeed, a perfect Xantippe to the unfortunate Dante, who, from aU accounts, was by no means constituted to act the part of a Socrates. These domestic troubles, it is to be presumed, were to a certain e-xtent, forgotten in the cares of 68 FLORENCE. public Ufe, in which he engaged, not without reputation, having attained, when only in his thirty-third year, the honourable post of one of the Priors of the republic. But here commenced " his fall," and " the loss of all his fuU-blown honours." The Guelphs, about that period, becoming jealous of each other, divided into two factions, the black and the white. The former, from the spirit of party, conspiring with Boniface the Eighth, called in Charles de Valois, by whose aid the latter were banished from Florence, Among these iUustrious exiles none were more distinguished than Dante, and the father of Petrarch, In this unhappy occurrence, the poet conceived that he had been treated with great ingratitude by his country, and with stiU greater treachery by the Pope, before whom he was then trying to reconcile the contending parties. In great distress of mind, arising from these un fortunate occurrences, he wandered to different courts, — to Verona, where his reception by the Prince Scaligers was most honourable, — to Paris, where he obtained the theological crown for his WORKS OF DANTE, 69 knowledge in divinity, — and lastly, to Ravenna, It was from this place, that in return for the great kindness manifested towards him by Prince Guido Novello da Polenta, he undertook an embassy to Venice, His mission proved unsuccessful, which so chagrined the disappointed bard, that he fell sick, and after lingering a short time, died at the age of sixty-five. Of Ms works, the early canzone, though they contain many passages of true passion, are too affected. His Dream, or Vita Nuova, is full of grief for the loss of Beatrice, who, when he wrote it, appeared to have occupied both his sleeping and his waking thoughts. The only excellence of his Banquet (II Convivio) is the full exposition it gives of the knowledge of the times. By his Divina Comedia alone his immortal fame is established. There has been much dispute to determine whence he derived the first idea of this famous work : this it is impossible at present to ascertain ; but of this we may be certain, that for the materials of the poem and its general plan, he is indebted to his own creative imagination alone. 70 FLORENCE. The Inferno opens nearly in the same manner as the Tesoretto of Ms master, Brunetto Latini, by the poet being bewildered in a forest, at the foot of a mountain : to rescue him from this dilemma, and indulge his eager longings after knowledge, the Mantuan bard appears, and conducts Dante, by the desire of Beatrice, to hell, — Here they pass through nine circles of torture, each circle being placed within the other, in the innermost and last of which, Satan is chained at the centre of the earth. The variety of suffering described under fire, rain, haU, ice, and snow, presents such ap palUng and sombre pictures, as the sublime imagi nation of the poet could alone render supportable to the reader, — He has a power of presenting the image so vividly and distinctly to the mind, that the object seems present to the eye. In tMs faculty of individuality, to borrow phrenological language, if we except Homer, he stands without a rival. He bears a further resemblance to the Greek poet in the number and force of his similes, mostly drawn from pastoral life. Once out of that place of woe, over the gates of THE DIVINA COMEDIA. 71 which were written the memorable words so often quoted : " Through me the path leads to the penal cells : Through me the path to everlasting woe : Through me the path to where the damned dwell : Leave hope behind, all ye who enter here '." The poet, overcome with sleep, reposes Mmself, and, after enjoying an agreeable vision, is conducted to purgatory, where the seven deadly sins are expiated. But such touching pictures of anticipated bliss are depicted in the countenances of the temporary sufferers, chaunting songs of praise in the presence of angels, who diffuse around the soothing feelings of hope, like soft airs from their radiant wings, that the sufferings they nevertheless endure are com pletely lost sight of. The contrast to the Inferno presented by the Purgatorio is truly refreshing. Beatrice at last appears, and leads her lover to heaven, where, after beholding the different orders of the blessed, in the various planets, they ascend to the heaven of heavens, and view the happy spirits ' " Per me si va nella citta dolente : Per me si va nell' etemo dolore : Per me si va tra la perduta gente : Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate." 72 FLORENCE. enjoying the vision of the Deity, "like some gentle hill," to use the beautiful simUe of the poet, " That stoops, as 'twere reflected, to behold Within the lucid mirror at its base. The multitude of herbs and beauteous flowers That ornament its crown and gentle slopes •." The defects of this great poem are the often revolting nature of the images; the slender in terest of the plot; the sameness, if not of the incidents, at least of the general tenour of the work, and the too frequent recurrence to the poli tical animosities of his country, the spirit of which the poet carries with him into heaven itself — that place of peace and forgetfulness of injuries. The beauties of the Divina Comedia, are, however, truly redeeming; amid the subUmity that uni versally pervades it, — the frequent lapses of the poet into tenderness, as in the pathetic tale which he introduces, of Francesca of Rimini, — the force of his comparisons, — the grandeur of his pictures, — ¦ the profundity which often makes him obscure, — ' " E, come clivo in acqua di suo imo, Si specchia, quasi per vedersi adomo Quanto e nell' erbe e ne' fioretti opimo." THE DIVINA COMEDIA, 73 the sustained stretch of fancy which never tires ; — above all, the invention which every where appears, fill the mind with such emotions, that whatever dislike may be felt to the subject, or to the mode in which it has sometimes been treated, it is impossible not to feel the highest admiration for the transcendent powers that have triumphed over every difficulty, that conceived and successfully guided to its termination a work which stands alone among the monuments of human invention. Dante copied from no one ; and it seems probable, that though many may imitate, no one wUl ever rival him in the walk of poetry which he has made peculiarly his own. The interpretation of the aUegories contained in the Divine Comedy, has long proved a subject of doubt and difficulty to the numerous commen tators of Dante. Rossetti, in his very erudite and clever dissertation " on the Antipapal Spirit '," has given a new and ingenious explanation of the ' This work is every way worthy of its leamed author, the gifted ad mirer of Dante, and possesses additional interest as the production of one, wbo, by his beautiful poem " Iddio e L'uomo," has proved himself entitled to a place among the very first of existing cultivators of Italian poetry. E 74 FLORENCE. meaning of the allegory that runs throughout the poem. It is the opinion of this very excellent critic that it was the intention of Dante, in his Divina Comedia, to read mankind a great moral lesson, in setting forth in his description of the guilty Babylon, the vices of the court of Rome of his time ; to represent in the horrors of heU the pun ishments awaiting these crimes ; and in the bliss of paradise, the return to more virtuous days. He finally regards Beatrice as the personification of morality or theology. There are many cogent arguments adduced in support of this interpretation. The express autho rity of the poet where he says All ye whose minds are healthfully attuned. Admire, and prize the noble truths that lie Wrapt in the mystic veil of poesy ' ; the language of his contemporaries; his inex orable wrath towards the Guelph faction — for with Dante, "vengeance seemed not only a natural impulse, but a duty," — his love for the opposite ^ " O Voi ch' avcte gli intelletti sani Mirate la dottrina ch' s'asconde , Sotto 'I velame degli versi strani." THE divina COMEDIA. 75 party, or that of the Emperor, under whose authority he would have placed the whole earth ; his habit of writing only after deep meditation, — aU these circumstances are greatly in favour of Rossettl's doctrine. This interpretation of Rossetti appears stUl more probable, if qualified with the more extensive views of Foscolo, who conceives that the great drama of human Ufe, and not the abuses of the papacy alone — though perhaps more frequently alluded to — forms the real subject of the Divina Comedia. The work of Dante, considered in this Ught, exhibits him not only as " the historian of the manners of his age, and the prophet of his coun try," but " as the painter of mankind in general," whilst " he calls into action all the faculties of our souls to reflect on aU the vicissitudes of the world." But with regard to Beatrice, if Petrarch is to be credited, who tells us that for several months after her death, " Dante had the feelings and appearance of a savage," although she may at times be brought upon the scene, wrapt in the mysterious veil of allegory, we have numerous reasons for beUeving E 2 76 FLORENCE. that she frequently appeared to the poet's vision, enshrined in that lovely form, under which she once subdued his ardent soul. It was then that the fancy of the poet poured itself into language in accordance with emotions aroused by the cherished memory of a first and passionate love. Of this we have abundant evidence in the following beau tiful passage, where the most glorious spectacle in nature is employed to illustrate the impression conveyed by the first appearance of Beatrice in paradise, in all the majesty of beauty — " I have beheld, ere now, at break of day. The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky Oppos'd, one deep and beautiful serene ; And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists Attemper'd, at his rising, that the eye Long while endur'd the sight : thus in a cloud Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose. And down, within and outside of the car, FeU showering, in white veil with olive wreath'd, A virgin in my view appeared, beneath Green mantle, rob'd in hue of living flame ; And o'er my spirit, that in former days Within her presence had abode so long. No shuddering terror crept. Mine eyes no more Had knowledge of her." THE DIVINA COMEDIA. 77 He concludes in the language of emotion which must find an interpreter in every heart : " Yet there moved from her A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak'd. The power of ancient love was strong within me ^" No sooner is the hidden chord touched, while gazing on the countenance of his Beatrice, than the memory of long bygone days revives, and he gives utterance to the following touching simile : — ** No sooner on my vision streaming, smote The heavenly influence which years past, and e*en ' *' Io vidi gia nel cominciar del giorno La parte oiiental tutta rosata, E Taltro ciel di bei sereno adomo ; E la faccia del sol nascere ombrata. Si che, per temperanza di vapori, L'occhio lo sostenea lunga fiata : Cosi dentro una nuvola di fiori Che dalle mane angeliche saliva E ricadea in giu dentro e di fuori, Sovra candido vel, cinta d''oliva, Donna m' apparve sotto verde manto, Vestita di col6r di fiamma viva. E lo spirito mio, che gia cotanto Tempo era stato che alia sua presenza Non era di stup6r tremando affi-anto, Senza degli occhi aver piu conoecenza. Per occulta virtu ehe da lei mosse, D''antico amor senti la gran potenza, Tosto che nella vista mi percosse," E 3 78 FLORENCE, In childhood thrill'd me, than towards Virgil I Turn'd me to leftward, panting like a babe That flies for refuge to his mother's breast. If aught has terrified or worked him woe. And loudly cried :" Bursting forth unto the thrilling accents of pas sion, the poet exclaims — " There is no dram of blood That does not quiver in me; the old flame Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire." Under this all-subduing influence he finally sub joins — " Nor Virgil — nor All our prime mother lost, avail'd to save My undew'd cheeks from blur of soiling tears V' *' L'alta virt^ che gia m'avea trafitto Prima ch' io fuor di puerizia fosse, V61simi alia sinistra, col rispitto Col quale il fantolin corre alia mamma, Quando ha paiira, o quando egli e afBitto, Per dicere a Virgilio ; Men che dramma, Di sangue m' e rimasa che non tremi : Conosco i segni dell' antica fiamma.'' ' " Virgilio Ne quantunque perdeo I'antiea madre, Valse alle guance nette di rugiada, Che lagrimando non tomassero adre." BOCCACCIO, 79 CHAPTER VIII, Boccaccio — His minor poems — The Decameron — The merits of that work — An excuse for its faults — A comparison hetween Boccaccio and Chaucer — Machiavelli — The " Il Principe" — Is this composi tion to be considered as a satire on princes or not.P — "Was the mind of the writer corrupted? — His discourses on Livy — Galileo — The first of modem philosophers to question Nature hy experiment — His imprison ment by the Inquisition — His discoveries — His domestic habits. From the subUme poet who has just engaged our attention, we turn to the contemplation of a mind of a very different stamp, which, if it pursued a less aspiring flight, possessed at least greater variety and compass. If Dante aimed at reforming mankind by drawing in terrific colours the punishments that wait on unrepented crimes, far difterent appeared the object of the bard of the Hundred Tales of Love, who, by the most fascinating pictures which e4 80 FLORENCE, art and imagination can form, allures us often, perhaps but too persuasively, into the flowery paths of pleasure, Giovanni Boccaccio was born in 1313, at Paris, out of the bonds of wedlock ; his mother was a native of France ; his father was of a respectable family which had been long settled at Certaldo, a castle situated twenty miles from Florence, So early did the peculiar tendency of his genius dis play itself, that he composed fables, in verse, at the age of seven years. His father, at first, seeing with regret these early inclinations, and thinking poetry would never confer riches, was anxious that his son should embrace a more profitable calling. He, therefore, sent him on some mercantile missions to various parts of the country, to wean him from his favourite pursuits, but all to no purpose. The good-natured father, then convinced that his anti pathy to business was insurmountable, abandoned all further opposition, and aUowed him to follow the natural bent of his mind, Boccaccio was about the age of twenty when he first saw Maria, the natural daughter of the King of Naples, and for BOCCACCIO. 81 whom he conceived a lasting attachment, which appears to have been returned, we are sorry to add, at the sacrifice of virtue. She is the remarkable lady he has celebrated so much, under the name of Fiammetta. To her and poetry, all his thoughts and tirae were dedicated ; and Virgil, Ovid, Homer, and Dante were his favourite authors. The fruits of these poetical studies were. La Teseide, and his other minor pieces ; but, upon becoming acquainted with Petrarch, who gene rously offered to share his house and purse to ex tricate him from the embarrassments which his easy disposition, and the honourable expences in curred in advancing the rising interests of learning, entailed upon him, he abandoned all thoughts of the poetic laurel. His sagacity pointed out to him that the first place there was already forestalled, and by writing his Decameron, or One Hundred Tales of Love, he secured the same rank in a dif ferent walk. Nothing could exceed the public enthusiasm on the first appearance of these beautiful tales. All tlie world became storytellers. The Decameron, E 5 82 FLORENCE. however, being too free and licentious, he was re proved with all the authority of a parent, by his friend Petrarch: at the same time, he was so alarmed by the prediction of an unknown monk, who declared that what he foretold would certainly come to pass, unless he reformed his morals, that the frightened author took the religious habit. No one was more distinguished in that period of the revival of letters than Boccaccio, both for his pro motion of learning, and for holding out encourage ment to the Greek exUes ; and by travel, or by let ters to most parts of Europe, in searching for the lost Classics, His talents were not alone confined to the republic of letters ; he fulfilled many honourable missions for his country. But though in the full enjoyment of his high reputation, he was so affected with grief at the death of his dear Petrarch, that neither traveUing nor any other means could pre vent his health, previously impaired, after linger ing a short time, from sinking under the blow. In disposition, he was easy and joyous, could bear no sort of trouble, unless connected with his favourite pursuits, was extremely learned, to which BOCCACCIO. 8^3 his lectures on Dante bear ample testimony; and the only impediments to his happiness, were his occasional poverty and religious scruples, which appear to have been not without some foundation. His early works are now not much read. La Teseide, his first poem, is divided into twelve books, written in ottava rima, of which he is considered the inventor, and with aU the preten sions of an epic poem. His second poem, II Filostrato, is also drawn from heroic times ; the Xinfale Fiesolano, composed in honour of his Maria, contains, under the veil of aUegory, an adventure which happened in his time. Next follow the romances of II Filocopo and U Amorosa Fiammetta, both in prose, and the pastoral of L'Ameto. But these would not have procured for him the lasting fame which he has secured to himself in his immortal Decameron, the beauties of whieh are apparent to every reader. It is considered the purest prose in the language ; is overflowing with wit, and that natural archness so peculiar to the Italians in narrating a pleasant story, and presents so lively a picture of the manners of the times, E 6 84 FLORENCE, with so complete an insight into human nature, that it stands as a composition unrivalled. Among the most admired are the tragic tales of Ghismonda and Guiscardo, L' Andreuola and Gabriotto, Tito and Gisippo, that picture of true friendship. Among the witty, but immoral stories, the Friar and Pur gatory, — the friar acting the part of Cupid, — the King's Bedchamber, and The Gardener and the Con vent, are the best. But that which made so great an impression on Petrarch, is the last and beau tifully tender tale of Griselda. It so pleased the lover of Laura that he got it by heart, and fre quently repeated it to his friends, the narrator and Jiis audience both dissolved in tears. The faults of Boccaccio are comprised in two words — irreligion and licentiousness ; words of very serious import, doubtless. His excuse, if any can be urged, must be sought in the depravity of the times, grounded on the impression that he had no fixed design to corrupt. The only aim of Boccaccio seems to have been to paint manners as he found them, and, as he himself has quaintly said, "to banish melancholy from among his fe male friends." BOCCACCIO. 85 Few writers have had so many imitators as Boccaccio. Of these the most distinguished are his countrymen, the humorous Sacchetti and Ban dello. Fontaine, too, has copied closely the style of the Decamero-fi, — with this difference, however, that whilst the Italian appears to draw from the life, the French writer paints chiefly from the imagination. No wonder, then, that the tales of La Fontaine want that raciness, that air of truth and of reality, which keeps the attention of the reader constantly alive in the giomate of Boccaccio, Perhaps no writer will so well bear a comparison with Boccaccio as the venerable Chaucer, the father of English poetry : possessing as he did the same originaUty of conception, he may truly be looked upon as a kindred spirit with the gifted author of the Decameron. As Boccaccio drew largely from the ancient fabliaux of the French, in like manner Chaucer has taken the plan of several of his Canterbury Tales from the Deca meron, such as the Knight's Tale, Griselda, and some others. They both possessed a thorough knowledge of mankind, a fine sense of humour, 86 FLORENCE. and a surprising power of describing character. But although there may be some general resem blance, there are obvious points of difference. Boccaccio, fraught with the learning of the ancients, and his imagination fed with the poetry of the Troubadours, drew the corrupt society he lived among : the friars, nuns, pious cheats, and other characters, who had lost all sense of moral re straint, through the demoralizing influence of the plague. The portraits of these he has painted with the liveliest wit and greatest truth to nature ; but the pictures are so generally disfigured by such licentiousness in the attitudes and adjuncts, as argue that the writer himself had not escaped the moral contagion of his age. Chaucer, again, of strict morals himself, his mind stored vrith Italian literature, and the learning of the ancients, bor rowed from translations, described the manners and men he was familiar with, with that raciness which smacks of a wilder but a fresher nature; and shows him one of a people, unlike the ItaUans, immoral more from want of culture, than depraved from the refinements of civiUzation. The first BOCCACCIO. 87 excelled in composing a story with its endless pleasant incidents, enUvened with witty turns of thought, and humorous modes of expression. The chief power of the second lay in giving individual characters, which are drawn with such exquisite strokes of humour, and so naturaUy coloured, that they stand out from his pages like pictures after Nature, The former, by his powers of grouping and composition, may be considered as a great historic painter; the latter, by his family pieces, and his inimitable talent of seizing likenesses, as the first of Nature's portrait-painters, Boccaccio had a finer, more cultivated wit ; Chaucer, with less refinement, a keener sense of humour. If the English proudly look up to Chaucer as the creator of their poetry, though then unrefined, Boccaccio has perhaps the higher merit of having not only formed his country's prose, but of having brought it to a high degree of perfection. From the great poets we have recently been contemplating, we now direct our attention to a writer, who, pursuing a less elevated path, fol lowed at least one, that was all his own, and who 88 FLORENCE, was the first of modern philosophers to turn his scrutinizing eye to that mysterious labyrinth, the human breast, and study man as a member of society. It would have been weU, if his mind in pursuing this, to him as it proved, dangerous study, had always preserved its rectitude ; he would not then have added to the honour of being deemed the first of modern political teachers, the stigma of having identified his name with that most tortuous of all policies, the Machiavellian. Niccolo Machiavelli was born in 1469, at Flo rence, of a distinguished family, which was formerly noble. We know nothing of his infancy and youth, or in what manner his education was conducted. The Grand Chancellor of the Republic appears, however, to have soon discovered his abilities, hav ing attached him to himself as his secretary. The statesman-like address of the young Machiavelli also pointed him out to his country as a useful servant, and he fulfilled many difficult missions to France, Germany, and Rome, to her entire satis faction. His intimate connexion with the infamous Caesar Borgia, in one of these embassies to the MACHIAVELLI, 89 Papal court, reflects little credit on the reputation of the historian. Mankind are, however, indebted to the opportunities, this intimacy afforded him of studying character, for the composition of his famous treatise, entitled " Il Principe." While in France and Germany, as nothing escaped his philosophical scrutiny, he drew up a very curious account of these countries, showing the paramount importance of the free towns in Germany, at that period; and singularly enough, in the former country, expostulating with the French, upon the terror they entertained of the warlike EngUsh, from the recollection of their former victories. After many years spent in the service of his country, he was, upon the accession of the Medici to power, arrested, on suspicion of being privy to a conspiracy, and subjected to the torture. He bore his sufferings with great fortitude, and con fessed nothing : probably, he had nothing to con fess. Disappointed of all future prospects of advance ment, he retired to a small country house, where, 90 FLORENCE, in complete solitude, he gave himself up to study and contemplation. Each morning, he tells us in his letters, covered with the dust of his little farm, he amused himself in arguing with his rustics, upon any subject, or upon nothing. But the evening was sacred to the profound study of his favourite ancient authors, guided by whose lights, he exa mined the principles of man, and those secret springs of government, which might be at once a benefit and a warning to posterity. If we admire in his II Principe, the thorough knowledge displayed of the mind of an ambitious prince, we must con demn, at the same time, the depraved morality everywhere inculcated ; namely, that the end justi fies the means, and that a prince may perpetrate every crime in order to obtain success. The n Principe, though the most celebrated of aU his works, is unjustly, in our opinion, preferred to his discourses upon Livy, where there are both better principles of government laid down, and much sounder reasonings. The examination in this historical treatise of the re spective governments of Rome, Sparta, and Ve- MACHIAVELLI. 91 nice, where, after long pondering, the preference is given to the freer institutions of the Roman State, is consolatory to every lover of liberty. The ex cuse, too, advanced for the ingratitude which Athens is reproached with, towards her great men, is un answerable, arising, as it did, from the natural jealousy she entertained of her liberty, without other sufficient checks for its protection. The His tory of Florence, except for its too great leaning to the Medici, is highly prized for its impartiality and style ; the opening chapters, particularly, are admi rable for the profound maxims they inculcate, and as being among the first modern attempts to prove that history is only philosophy teaching by ex ample. His other writings consist of a clever life of that accomplished tyrant Castruccio Castracani ; an invaluable treatise on the art of war ; the satirical comedies of Mandragola, Cassaria, and the witty novel of Belfogor, which pays no very flattering compliments to married women. The real design of the author in the iZ Principe has long been a subject of dispute ; and it is not yet decided whether it may or may not be regarded 15 92 FLORENCE. as a satire upon princes. His justification of the murder of Remus by Romulus, and his occasionally advocating, in his other works, the same principles of injustice, would induce us to believe that he approved of them, and strengthens the opinion of his not having entirely escaped the corrupting influence of the lax political morality of the times. The best vindication of his character is to be found in the patriotic efforts which he made to rid his country of the dominion of foreigners, and in his ardent wish to behold her free and united under one leader. He has also left an admirable antidote to the II Principe in his discourses on Livy, which are full of the noblest.sentiments of liberty, and the profoundest political maxims. What the great poets of Florence did for the ideal, the great philosopher that at present comes under review effected for the material world. If Bacon has been so much honoured for having de molished, by reasoning, the old philosophy, has not Galileo additional claims on our admiration, in not only, like his great contemporary, having pointed out the new philosophy, but in having further MACHIAVELLI. 93 proved it true, by questioning Nature by expe riment ? Galileo GalUei was born at Pisa in 1364 : his father was a nobleman distinguished for his musical writings. The young Galileo was educated for the medical profession ; but the study of medicine not being congenial to his taste, he soon relin quished it for mathematics and philosophy. Such was his genius for science, that he read the works of Euclid and Archimedes without a master. His reputation in this department became so great, that he was elected to the vacant chair of mathematics at Pisa, by the Grand Duke. The immortal invention of the telescope was preceded by some minor discoveries ; shortly after which he pubUshed his proof of the Copernican theory of the earth's motion, and the stabUity of the sun ; for which erroneous doctrines, he was sum moned before the enlightened Inquisition, but was dismissed on making an ample recantation, with a warning not to assert in future the absurd theory that the earth moved, which they declared was both contrary to the evidence ofthe senses, and 94 FLORENCE. the authority of Scripture, But the phUosopher again relapsing into these heretical doctrines in his great work on the Ptolemean and Copernican sys tems, was condemned by those most upright judges, " second Daniels come to judgment," to an im prisonment of three years, and to recite the seven penitential psalms daily for the same period. Which of these punishments it was that induced him again to recant his errors, it is impossible to say: the sentence was, however, mitigated, and the penalty soon remitted altogether by the interference of his friends. It has been conjectured, that it must have been from the tendency of his other writings, inimical to the temporal supremacy of the Pope, that the court of Rome bore him this ill wUl, for the same theory of the earth and the sun was entertained by other enlightened CathoUcs with impunity. Indeed, it was open to every Catholic to believe in this as his reason dictated ; these physical questions never having been piropounded as articles of faith by a general council. But probably the causes that had more influence than the one we have just GALILEO. 95 mentioned, in i-aising the storm of persecution against Galileo, are to be found in the jealousy with which little minds regard the great dis coveries of genius, and that intolerance of new opinions which distinguished many of the clergy, at that time but Uttle conversant with physical science. The latter days of this great philosopher's life were devoted to an intense study of mechanics, particularly the laws of motion and percussion ; he was the first to demonstrate that the spaces passed through by heavy bodies in falling, are as the squares of the times; but his discoveries in the heavens by means of his telescope, of the sateUites of Jupiter, of the surface of the moon, of the phases of Venus, of the cause of the milky way, of many new stars hitherto unseen by the naked eye, — and his development of the true theory of the earth, are the chief titles of Galileo to the immortality he enjoys among men. In disposition he was amiable ; he loved the country, where his moments of relax ation were spent either in the cultivation of his garden, or in familiar converse with his friends. 96 FLORENCE, He was never married, but he had illegitimate children, Galileo has left a name only equalled by that of Newton, who, as if to console the world for the loss, was born on the day the great Tuscan philosopher expired. CHAPTER IX. Leghorn — A great resort for Merchants of different Nations — Freedom of Religious Worship — Departure in a Steam-boat for Rome — Recol lections on going up the Tiber — The contrast between its present and its former state — Disembarking at midnight — "Wandering through Rome — The Festival of Corpus Christi — The Procession — The dif ferent feelings of the Spectators — The utility of some of the Monastic Orders. In visiting Leghorn, an inhabitant of Great Britain wiU be struck with the odd mixture of English manners and Italian customs that prevails. Who ever, indeed, is solely in quest of the fine arts, needs not turn out of his route to visit this Tuscan port ; but he who studies men and manners will be greatly amused by observing the different nations that here congregate from the four quarters of the globe, to buy, to sell, and to overreach. Amidst 98 LEGHORN, this motley congregation, the dark and avaricious IsraeUte forms a prominent object in the picture. The Jews, elsewhere barely tolerated, here form about a fourth of the entire population, with the full enjoyment of civil and religious freedom. Inferior to them in number, though higher in respectability, are the inhabitants of the British isles, who seem more the masters of the soil than the Italians themselves ; a free scope is given to their tastes ; emd even their domestic pecuUarities have ample latitude for indulgence : London porter, ale, roast beef, tea, are commodities of life acces sible to the lowest as well as to the highest of our countrymen here. In every street may be seen the comfortable abode of some English merchant; and the hearty, though by no means pious excla mation of a British tar, salutes the ear at the turn of every corner. It is a curious coincidence, that, in the EngUsh burial-ground, Smollett, who ex ceUed in depicting the checquered life of the hardy sailors of our nation, should lay his bones, and have a monument erected to his memory in so appro priate a place. There is nothing remarkable in the VOYAGE TO THE TIBER, 99 buildino-s, nor is there much architectural worth in the churches. The harbour is smaU, but convenient, and the public promenade enjoys a full and an agreeable prospect of Elba, Majorca, and Minorca. Besides a large Jewish synagogue there are two Armenian churches, which speak favourably for the toleration of the government. The inducements held out of an easy convey ance to Rome in the steam-boat, and our anxiety to be present at the festival of Corpus Christi, pre vailed on us to abandon our purposed route by land. After a few hours' sail, we coasted the famous isle of Elba. — One of the most short sighted acts of the Holy Allies seems to have been the choice of this island for the prison of Napoleon ; to suppose that the eagle would not fly back to his old eirie, as soon as the eye of the hunter was averted ! If these sage despots had been prescient, by having left him on the throne of France, they would have preserved themselves from much of their present trouble. The next day we entered the Tiber : the pages of Virgil and Livy, of course, recalled to our f2 100 THE TIBER. memories the sanguinary battles of .^neas and Turnus, and how every inch of ground was con tended for by the infant republic, and the sur rounding petty states. Do^vn this famous stream, sailed, in the proud days of the commonwealth, the Consuls, in their well-appointed galleys, to take the command of their fleets equipped for foreign conquest. But where are now the gorgeous fetes celebrated on its bosom in the haughty and luxurious days of the empire ? where are the votive temples raised along its banks ? have inundations covered them ? — " Vidimus flavum Tiberim," Into how small a compass has this God of rivers dwindled ! The venerable Tiber, we must needs suppose, was formerly more commodiously lodged; in its present very moderate breadth, it would require the warm imagination ofa Cassius to conceive the troubled Tiber, " even in a raw and gusty day, chafing with his shores," or we must sup pose Csesar a wretched swimmer, "to cry for help," ere he had gained the point proposed. It is not only from Horace that we learn that several build ings were inundated by its overflow ; in the middle SHORES OF THE TIBER. 101 ages, it rose so high as to flood the Coliseum and contiguous buildings. With regard to its colour, I could not see the justice of the epithet, flavum ; it is muddy enough, truly, but could hardly be caUed yellow. With ample allowance for the grand descriptions of Horace and Virgil, we must recon cUe in some degree its present with its pristine state, by supposing that its channel has been narrowed both by the crumbling in of the cir cumjacent ruins, and the encroaching sand of the sea at its mouth. It has been choked up, indeed, so much at its entrance, that one of the late Popes was obUged to construct a banked canal, half a mile in length, as a means of communication with the sea. Along these shores, once teeming with life and happiness, are now only to be seen a few poor cot tages, droves of horses, and some wild buffalos ranging at large, OccasionaUy in the distance, some Roman peasants may be perceived, riding rapidly to and fro, after their cattle ; the peaceful occupa tion of herdsmen having succeeded to the lawless pursuits of savage banditti ; the dress, ho\yever, is unchanged; and the slung carabine, the slouched f3 102 ARRIVAL AT ROME, hat, and blue miUtary coat, still bring to mind the wild and romantic groups of Salvator Rosa, The shades of evening had now closed around us, and incapacitated us, as we approached the eternal city, from seeing any object distinctly; one only, by its massy grandeur rose through the gloom, at our side : it was the Church of St. Paul, or, to speak more correctly, the ruins to which, by an accidental conflagration, this ancient edifice had lately been reduced. On our arrival at the quay for disembarkment, we were informed that the usual hour was past for the admission of strangers ; permission was, however, obtained to enter the city walls, on condition of leaving our luggage behind us. It was ten o'clock, and at that late hour we were groping our way in ancient Rome, without clue or guide. Our situation, which had its charms, ex cited no small surprise in a polite Roman, who directed us to the place of our destination. We crossed a bridge, and amused ourselves with specu lating on the possibUity of this being the Ponte- MoUe, or perchance the Ponte- Rotto. Under FESTIVAL OF CORPUS CHRISTI, 103 similar feelings of curiosity, we cast an inquisitive glance into the miserable houses that lay in our way. No proud Roman was retiring to his humble couch after having voted for the honour of the commonwealth ; but some half-dressed peasants, after the fatigues of a sultry day, were frying their cheap fish for supper. Passing forward, a huge round mass obstructed our view, " Here at least," we exclaimed, " is something of ancient Rome, which has escaped the -wreck of ages !" The Pantheon stood before us. A Uttle farther on, we encoun tered a numerous party going to the theatre, after having piously attended an iUumination in honour of St, Francis; a strange transition from a scene of devotion to one of pleasure. Fatigued with wandering in this land unknown, without chart or compass, the reception we met with in a comfort able inn was extremely acceptable. On the morrow, we found all Rome in busy preparation for some great event. It was the festival of Corpus Christi, one of those annual ceremonies which the church celebrates with un usual splendour, for the edification of her flock. f4 104 ROME. At ten o'clock every possible means of conveyance was in requisition, and all the world, native and stranger, orthodox and heterodox, might be seen hurrying to St. Peter's. As soon as the beautiful square is gained, each provides himself with a con venient situation. On the outside of the magnifi cent colonnade, the interior of which is covered with tapestry and rich carpets, the middle . and lower classes are seated on low benches ; the nobi lity and gentry are accommodated in the decorated apartments of the surrounding houses. A solemn bell announces the commencement of the spectacle. Every eye is turned to the great eastern door of the church; the procession from thence is opened by the young boys of the different charities of Rome, advancing in regular order, sing ing the psalms. To them succeed, in humble garb, and dressed in stiU humbler looks, the different mendicant orders. These poor Fathers, with their shaven crowns, their simple garments, and length ened cords girt around their loins, appear to have bid an eternal farewell to all earthly greatness ; it is hardly possible to doubt their earnestly resigned FESTIVAL OF CORPUS CHRISTI. 105 looks ; or to imagine hypocrisy concealed under such vile attire : if " they show us the steep and thorny way to heaven," to all appearance, they do not " themselves the primrose path of dalliance tread." Then follow in their decorous files the variously costumed friars, — black, white, and grey ; in the foremost ranks, dressed in sober black, appear the children of St, Austin, famous in former ages for being the ready confessors of poor and rich. Then the poor Franciscans, with their cords of penance round their waists, once so noted for the meagreness of their diet, and the austerity of their lives. Next, the learned Dominicans, in robes of spotless white, the founders of the Inquisition, it is true, but the no less celebrated preachers of the church. Close to them come their celebrated rivals, the accomplished Jesuits, the scientific teachers of princes, the classical preceptors of youth, once the masters of Paraguay, and the zealous missionaries of China and Japan, The dignitaries of the dif ferent churches succeed — the various bishops, attended by their crosier-bearers, of which body the Armenian prelates, with their venerable beards F 5 106 ROME. sweeping down their breasts, formed the most dis tinguished ornament; and lastly the magnificent band of the Pope, preceding the array of the haughty Cardinals, among whom appear some fine looking men ; for though age often debilitates their limbs, either the respectability of their origin, or their elevated station, impresses on their looks and manner a certain air of dignity. After a moment's pause, the cannon of St. Angelo is heard ; its so lemn peal announces the near approach of the So vereign Pontiff, marshalled by the officers of his household. The venerable old man is borne aloft, in a splendid litter on the shoulders of his subjects, under a canopy of sUk; his hands are joined, and his eyes fixed, in act of adoration of the Host, which is borne before him ; his suite, consisting of many of the nobUity of Rome, dressed in splendid uniforms, and mounted on richly caparisoned steeds close this gorgeous cavalcade. It was curious to observe, whUe these scenes were passing before us, the different impressions which they left on the minds of the spectators. To the devout Catholic all was grand, solemn, FESTIVAL OF CORPUS CHRISTI, 107 and sublime : imbued from his earliest infancy with deep reverence for the mysteries, and even ceremonies of his Church, he looks back to the earliest ages for their venerable origin ; from the catacombs, where the primitive Christians practised their proscribed rites, he derives the example of these religious practices; his mind is fuU of the caves and deserts of Egypt, into which, by dreadful persecutions, his religious progenitors were driven ; his thoughts revert to the publi