burying-place: it was one of the good deeds of the French government,
that these were all swept out of the cities. The monuments are disposed
in cloisters, surrounding several courts of the old convent. It is so
gay with paint and whitewash, that that solemnity of appearance, which
seems to us both natural and becoming in such a place, is entirely
destroyed. There is a great number of skulls, with the names of those of
whom they once formed part, and among others that of Guido. What a treat
for a craniologist!
The palaces here are plain handsome buildings, with architraves, &c. to
the windows and doors, but not decorated with the orders of
architecture. In the Ranuzzi there is a very beautiful staircase; the
room is elliptical, you enter at the end, and ascend to the right and
left, and it returns in one branch over you on the longitudinal axis.
The carriageway to the stable-yard is through the room, and under the
return flight of steps, so that nothing can be more convenient.
The Torre degli Asinelli is a slender tower built at different periods,
256 feet high, which leans over its base, as measured in 1706, 3 feet 2
inches. Some years after this admeasurement, there was an earthquake,
and it was again measured, but no alteration had taken place. In some
situations you do not at all perceive this inclination; and then its
slender form makes a fine object, rising above the buildings of the
city. The other tower, the Garisendi, inclines 6 feet 6 inches to the
south, and 1 foot 6 inches to the east; it is 130 feet high, but has no
sort of beauty, in whatever direction it is viewed. Some authors have
pretended that it was built thus inclined, but the inclination of the
courses of brick, and the position of the holes to receive the timber of
the floors, proves that it was a mere settlement: a few feet at the top
are perpendicular.
You know, that in the Roman church, a sort of public disputation is
occasionally exercised, where a heretic or an infidel is supposed to be
convicted of his errors. I have not been fortunate enough to fall in
with one of these, but my friend, Mr. Scott, going one day into a church
in this city, without being at all aware of any thing extraordinary,
found it full of people, and two priests apparently disputing in the
midst of them. Just as he entered, a sudden burst of laughter rose from
the whole assembly, and he began to think himself in a theatre instead
of a church; but he soon ascertained that it was a dispute between a
wise man and a fool, carried on for the edification of good catholics.
The wise man explains the principles of his religion; the fool disputes
and turns them into ridicule. Of course the wise man is to be completely
victorious; but the fool frequently uses considerable force and
ingenuity of argument, and a good deal of wit, which is a much more
formidable weapon. In the present imperfect state of our knowledge, the
objector stands on so much more advantageous ground than the supporter
of almost any set of opinions, and especially has so much resource in
the use of ridicule, which is forbidden to the other, that such an
institution does not seem to be a very wise one, and I am afraid a large
number would sympathize with the fool, and regret his defeat.
I have not been quite so inattentive as you imagine to the political
state of the countries through which I have passed, but it would take as
much time to collect opinions, and form a correct judgment, as it does
to study the styles and dates of all the architecture I meet with; and
as I cannot do both, I stick to that which belongs to me. Some things
force themselves on the notice of the most careless observer, and some
opinions will be formed from listening to casual conversation, and
combining and comparing the different sentiments one hears. I will then
communicate my speculations such as they are, without any fear that you
should attach too much value to them. I believe I have already mentioned
meeting some Englishmen at Bex, who had conversed a good deal with
Olivier, the minister at Nismes, and received from him a distinct denial
of the letter to the Duke of Richelieu, attributed to him; I have been
reading to-day, in the Italian papers, the proclamation of the prefect
of the _departement du Gard_; and the violent, intemperate spirit it
exhibits, may serve as a comment on his previous conduct. It is called
expressly in these papers, _the persecution of the protestants_. On this
side of the Alps, nobody has thought it worth while to deny, what is so
well known to be the fact.
In Savoy I found the people rejoicing that the conscription was at an
end; and the Genevese were proud of their recovered liberty and
increased consequence. In the Pays de Vaud the people seemed satisfied
with the present state of things, and some of my occasional travelling
companions have formed the same opinion of the Canton of Bern; I was not
equally fortunate, for I heard little from the inhabitants but grumbling
and discontent, at being restored to the government of a tyrannical
oligarchy. In the Vallais, Napoleon is decidedly regretted by the mass
of the people, but this I apprehend is in great measure owing to the
road of the Simplon, the execution of which diffused a quantity of money
among the inhabitants, and gave a stimulus to their activity with which
they were before unacquainted. The road, now it is made, also affords a
great facility to commerce, and creates a traffic through the country
which is of great advantage to it. I see it was lately debated in the
Helvetic diet whether this road should be destroyed. If they decide in
the affirmative, it will preserve the Vallaisans in their original
poverty and idleness, and make them pray with increased fervour for the
return of Napoleon. On crossing the Alps, one finds little change in
political opinions. I do not know what is the constitution of the
Vallais, but I suspect the existence of an oligarchy or aristocracy,
whose feelings do not coincide with those of the bulk of the people: in
the Milanese, high and low, rich and poor, seem to be alike
Napoleonists, and in the Venetian states it is much the same. Even at
Bologna, I believe the bulk of the people would be glad to be again
under his government, though superstition is very strong among them.
Added to this, all my countrymen, in this part of the world, seem to be
Napoleonists, or travelling towards it. Nor is there any thing strange
in this; Italy says aloud, that she has nothing to thank England for, in
restoring to her the multiplied abuses of her old governments. In
endeavouring to keep the sword in the hands of France, Napoleon appears
to have made the conscription much heavier on her, than on any of her
allies; at least, one hears few complaints of it in Italy and
Switzerland; and when we contemplate on the other hand, how much good
was done; public works, both of utility and magnificence everywhere
carried on; the arts and sciences protected and encouraged; an excellent
code of laws, well administered, and what is more extraordinary,
political institutions calculated to bring the people to act together,
and favourable in no small degree to public liberty; one cannot but
regret that the extravagant ambition of that man should have rendered
his authority incompatible with the peace of Europe. Nor could I at all
fear the duration of despotic power; the seeds of liberty were so
extensively sown; the plants had gained, and were annually gaining so
much strength; that if but a few years of the progress had continued,
and the strong hand which directed their growth was then withdrawn; it
was impossible that they should not display themselves. It may appear a
strange paradox, but it was certainly true, that from a despotic
government, Italy was drinking deeply the true spirit of liberty; under
a foreign power, acquiring rapidly the sentiment of independence, and
both circumstances were to be traced to the just and equal laws, which
did not permit one class of men to oppress another, and which were
gradually eradicating all the bad habits and bad principles, resulting
from a long continuance of corrupt institutions; which united all
classes in the administration of the municipal governments; and from the
gradual subsidence of those prejudices which animated one town and one
little territory against another. Now, every thing is altered for the
worse; the consistent code of laws acting uniformly over the whole
country is abolished, and the old defective ones, differently modified
in every city, are restored; a very few only of the most glaring abuses
being rectified. The finance laws indeed have not been changed; they
were too productive to be abandoned. With all this, it must be
remembered, that however the Italians might feel the advantages of
Napoleon’s government, they have no sort of partiality for the French
nation. I am persuaded that your notion is perfectly just, and that if
at the end of the campaign of 1814, Napoleon could have secured for
himself the crown of Italy, or if now it were possible, that he should
obtain it without that of France; all classes, both in the Milanese and
the old Venetian states would hail his arrival with transport. You must
not, however, expect any great efforts from them, or much personal risk
for any political object. They are not sufficiently habituated to think
of themselves as an essential part of the state machine, nor enough
accustomed to act in union for any great purpose, nor have they
sufficient confidence in each other. Every body knows that the Italians
do not like the Austrian government. You know the emperor has changed
his title, and from being Francis the Second, is become Francis the
First. I was talking in the public saloon in the inn at Padua, about
this alteration, “_Sì_,” said an Italian gentleman, “_si chiamava
Francesco secondo, adesso si chiama Francesco primo, e sarà, forse
Francesco unico_.” They laugh at the Germans, and affect to despise
them, but they hate the French more; and this feeling seems particularly
strong in the ancient territory of Venice. I had a long conversation
with a young man who acted as porter to the diligence at Vicenza, an
office for which he is very unfit, as he is of a very slender make, and
in attempting to carry my trunk found himself not sufficiently strong.
Under the French he had an employment in the military hospital, and all
business there was transacted in Italian. When the Austrians came, it
was to be transacted in German, and this young fellow was consequently
turned out. Necessity drove him to undertake any thing by which he could
gain his bread; meanwhile he is studying German, in hope of regaining
some situation similar to that which he had lost. Here seem motives
enough for soreness towards the Austrians, yet he preferred them to the
French, whose continual change of system kept up a continual irritation.
The Austrian hand is as heavy, or heavier than that of the French, but
it lies more quietly on the parts accustomed to bear it. The feeling of
discontent at present observable everywhere, depends chiefly on the
general poverty, and on the want of profitable employment, and these
arise from a defective harvest and vintage, and from a different mode of
spending the public money. During the French administration, a large
proportion of the revenue was spent in the country, and a good deal of
it in works of public utility; now, whether for show, or use, or waste,
every thing goes to Vienna. Public amusements are cheap; you pay at the
opera ten pence, instead of ten shillings, but every thing else is dear.
The Italians complain that all the necessaries of life are at least half
as dear again as they were two years ago, and they attribute this to the
heavy taxes, and to all the money being taken out of the country, and
nothing spent in it. “Napoleon,” said a gentleman to me at Milan,
“plucked the chicken, but blew the feathers about; Francis plucks it
still closer, and puts the feathers in his pocket. In Napoleon’s time
there was a splendid court and large salaries, which were all spent in
the country. Roads were made, bridges and public buildings erected; now
nothing is done! Napoleon had numerous Italian soldiers; Francis has
none, or hardly any. A lieutenant under Napoleon had a hundred and
twenty francs per month; now he has about fifty.” In whatever manner a
political subject begins, it ends in praise of Napoleon. Such remarks
may be true, but mere want of money cannot make corn, rice, oil, and
polenta, dear, though it may occasion a great deal of suffering; on the
contrary, it would rather reduce the prices, though it would reduce in a
still greater degree the means of purchase; misery makes people
discontented, and discontent makes them unjust. Mendicity is in the
greatest excess, and the beggars besiege the coffee-houses and churches,
at neither of which I dare give any thing, for if I did, I must give up
all hope of a quiet breakfast at the one, or of writing any
observations, or making any sketches in the other; but the present
distress of the country is so great, that one cannot be surprised or
angry. You are sometimes attacked by noble beggars, both male and
female, who whisper to you their demand for charity.
The Italians, I believe, like the English, both as a nation and
individually, but there are some among them who are fond of proclaiming
their hatred to us. If you take the trouble to inquire into the cause of
this hatred, you are almost sure to find that it proceeds from our
steady opposition to Napoleon. They consider the rest of Europe as
having been merely the tools of the English, and they are much
dissatisfied with the line of conduct adopted by the allies, all of
which they attribute to us. It is wonderful to see to what an extent the
notion is carried, both in France and Italy, that when England chooses
to exert herself, she can do whatever she pleases. Even at Paris, many
people are professedly angry with the English, merely because they did
not prevent the spoliation of the gallery. In short whatever is done, is
attributed to England, and whatever they wish done, which is not done,
they suppose the English to have prevented. However this tribute to our
power and consequence may flatter our national vanity, it is so
misplaced as to be sometimes provoking, especially when they complain of
our not interfering, when we had clearly no right to interfere. As to
the allies, however, the Bolognese have just cause of complaint, and I
believe they have it in common with many other Italian cities. Under the
old government they had many privileges, and possessed some share of
political freedom. They paid a certain sum annually to the papal
government, which neither had nor claimed any right to load them with
new taxes for its own advantage. Under the French, these privileges were
partially destroyed; but considerable authority was vested in the
municipality, and the general government interfered little, or not at
all, with their internal policy; while on the other hand, the greater
freedom given to their commerce, left them gainers by the exchange. Now
they are given up to the absolute and uncontrolled dominion of the pope.
Can you tell me if legitimacy can be predicated of kings alone, or do
other forms of government partake of it? The notion of ancient rights
and property is a fine thing, and the allies doubtless insisted upon it
with great justice from the French; but do we not want a fresh
coalition, to make Russia disgorge Poland, and Austria the Venetian
states. Till this is done, it may be fair at least to suspect, that the
late contest was merely a struggle for power, and that ambition and
knavery existed as much on one side as on the other.
Even in Italy, Bologna is spoken of as a place whose inhabitants are
very superstitious. They are accused of wearing their hats lightly on
their heads, for the facility of pulling them off, on passing before the
numerous paintings of the Madonnas and saints which are found in the
streets. Some of them talked to me in a most serious manner, of the
miraculous virtues of a figure of the Virgin made by St. Luke, and of
the great confidence which the inhabitants placed in it. They have four
patron saints, to whom their devotion seems very warm; and I read in one
of their churches, a long form of prayer, recommended to be used towards
one of them, (S. Petronio) to whom every possible excellence and power
seem to be attributed, and who is implored to place the petitioner in
Paradise. Towards the end is added a request, that he would obtain for
them the grace and favour of God, perhaps to avoid the charge of
idolatry, for the saint seems all in all through the rest of the prayer.
In the long arcade which leads to the church of the Madonna del Monte,
the passenger is requested not to scribble upon, or otherwise deface the
walls and columns, “for if thou fear not the punishment assigned by the
law to such misdeeds, yet tremble at the indignation of the Virgin, to
whom these piers and arches belong.” Indulgences are posted up at every
church, of ten, twenty, fifty, up to four hundred years; but plenary
indulgence is had on such easy terms, that these are hardly worth
notice. It is true that all such indulgences are promised only on
sincere repentance; yet even a Roman Catholic might observe, that they
represent the Almighty as less merciful than the Pope, and as granting
exclusively at his instance, that compassion and forgiveness which have
been promised to all mankind. We may add also, that it is impossible
they should not convey a feeling, that a repentance less perfect and
sincere, a contrition less deep and heartfelt, will be accepted under
these terms, than would have been the case without them, and the fact
seems to be, that the slightest sentiment of regret for the fault or
crime committed, is too often considered as sufficient. While it is so
easy to escape, one might imagine purgatory would be uninhabited. Yet
lest any of their friends should be so foolish as to go there, and
strange follies are sometimes committed, it is a common practice at
Bologna, to repeat a rosary before they go to bed, consisting of a
series of prayers to the Virgin Mary, in favour of the souls in
purgatory. In Roman Catholic countries a bell is rung at the close of
day, and in ancient times, every body stopt on hearing it, crossed
himself, took off his hat, and repeated a short prayer. At Venice this
seems little attended to, and at Bologna it is not much observed in the
streets; but in the house, the master and Sig. Paolo always rise, put
their knees on a chair, cross themselves, and repeat the prayer. The
Padrona in general contrived to lose no time; and was either knitting,
or taking care of the fire, or otherwise employed in some domestic
arrangement, while her lips repeated the words; and in general it seems
as if, provided the prayer were said, it was no matter how the attention
wandered. There would be something very beautiful in thus calling to the
minds of all the inhabitants of a great city, that they were Christians,
and warning them to do nothing inconsistent with that character, if
experience did not shew how necessarily such an observance degenerates
into an empty superstition.
I cannot leave Bologna without mentioning to you its great living
wonder, Professor Mezzofanti, who understands thirty-four languages
(including however, the different dialects of Italy) and who is as
amiable and obliging as he is learned. I was astonished at the facility
with which he changes from one language to another, talking to me in
English, to another person in Italian, to my friend Vracliotti, the
young Greek student, in modern Greek, to a Polish princess who came to
visit the university, in her own language, and in French to a gentleman
of that nation, who accompanied her; and giving directions to the
attendants in the library, in Bolognese; all in the course of a few
minutes, and without ever confounding one language with another, or
seeming in the least at a loss. In speaking our tongue, I perceived that
I could detect him to be a foreigner in the cadence of his sentences,
but hardly ever, or perhaps never, in the pronunciation of individual
words. This is the more wonderful, as his knowledge of the language is
derived entirely from books, and his guide to its sounds has been
Sheridan’s Pronouncing Dictionary.
LETTER XXI.
FLORENCE.
_Florence,[38] 25th December, 1816._
I LEFT Bologna on the 14th. Although the vettura arrived at my lodging
at half past five, we did not leave the city till half past seven;
because a servant boy who was to have rode in the front, and who,
according to our vetturino, had received half a scudo as _caparre_,
never made his appearance. I do not know how to translate this word
_caparre_. Earnest seems to imply the payment in advance, of a portion
of what will ultimately become due; but here _he_ pays who is ultimately
to receive. Indeed, the whole system is very different from that of our
country. It is usual to set out very early in the morning, and after
travelling about twenty miles, stop for two or three hours, and then
proceed twelve or fifteen miles more, with the same horses. In summer
the journeys are longer, and so is the mid-day stop; but I believe a
regulation is in force, that the vetturino shall not go farther than
forty miles in one day, in order that he may not interfere with the
posting. At night the vetturino pays for your supper, fire, and bed; but
you pay for whatever you have in the middle of the day, and for
breakfast, if you choose any. The usual practice among the Italians,
when travelling, seems to be to make only two meals in the day, taking
in the morning merely a cup of coffee without milk, a scanty dinner, and
as good a supper as the vetturino will give them. Generally speaking,
you pay about two crowns (or dollars) per diem, with something more
where there are mountains to cross, and where they have to attach
bullocks or additional horses to the carriage; or in short, when there
is any particular circumstance on the road, which increases the expense
to the vetturino. It is usual to add a _mancia_, or present to the
driver, if you are served to your satisfaction; and this may be reckoned
at about two pauls per day.
The road lies across the Apennines, which consist in a general view, of
one very gentle, but extensive swell, intersected by deep winding
vallies. The sides of these vallies are generally steep, but not
absolutely precipitous, or materially rocky, except in a few points
which start up above the rest. They are very much covered with wood,
principally of chesnut-trees, and present a variety of pleasing scenery.
If you can in your imagination magnify considerably, the country about
Tunbridge Wells, you will perhaps have as competent an idea as I can
give you, of this part of the range. Our driver was very anxious to get
to Florence on the second night, that he might not have to pay our
expenses again, and we consequently arrived at this city at about _un’
ora e mezza di notte_. We reckon here by Italian time, beginning at the
_Ave Maria_, a little after sunset, and reckoning round for twenty-four
hours, till the _Ave Maria_ of the next evening.
Florence as a city does not please me so well as Bologna; the streets
are narrower, and the palaces are like prisons. These streets are paved
with flag-stones of irregular forms, variously fitted to each other.
They have the appearance of wide foot-alleys; so that while at Paris
every body has to walk on the carriage-road, at Florence all the
carriages seem to be on the foot-path.