to gather the flowers I have just mentioned, and found them deliciously
scented. Fratillarias, and the most gorgeous flies, many of which I
here noticed for the first time, were fluttering about and expanding
their wings to the sun. There is no describing the numbers I beheld, nor
their gaily varied colouring. I could not find in my heart to destroy
their felicity; to scatter their bright plumage and snatch them for ever
from the realms of light and flowers. Had I been less compassionate, I
should have gained credit with that respectable corps, the torturers of
butterflies; and might, perhaps, have enriched their cabinets with some
unknown captives. However, I left them imbibing the dews of heaven, in
free possession of their native rights; and having changed horses at
Tremolano, entered at length my long-desired Italy.
The pass is rocky and tremendous, guarded by the fortress of Covalo, in
possession of the empress queen, and only fit, one should think, to be
inhabited by her eagles. There is no attaining this exalted hold but by
the means of a cord let down many fathoms by the soldiers, who live in
dens and caverns, which serve also as arsenals, and magazines for
powder; whose mysteries I declined prying into, their approach being a
little too aërial for my earthly frame. A black vapour, tinging their
entrance, completed the romance of the prospect, which I never shall
forget.
For two or three leagues there was little variation in the scenery;
cliffs, nearly perpendicular on both sides, and the Brenta foaming and
thundering below. Beyond, the rocks began to be mantled with vines and
gardens. Here and there a cottage shaded with mulberries, made its
appearance, and we often discovered, on the banks of the river, ranges
of white buildings, with courts and awnings, beneath which numbers of
women and children were employed in manufacturing silk. As we advanced,
the stream gradually widened, and the rocks receded; woods were more
frequent and cottages thicker strown.
About five in the evening we left the country of crags and precipices,
of mists and cataracts, and were entering the fertile territory of the
Bassanese. It was now I beheld groves of olives, and vines clustering
the summits of the tallest elms; pomegranates in every garden, and vases
of citron and orange before almost every door. The softness and
transparency of the air soon told me I was arrived in happier climates;
and I felt sensations of joy and novelty run through my veins, upon
beholding this smiling land of groves and verdure stretched out before
me. A few hazy vapours, I can hardly call them clouds, rested upon the
extremities of the landscape; and, through their medium, the sun cast an
oblique and dewy ray. Peasants were returning home, singing as they
went, and calling to each other over the hills; whilst the women were
milking goats before the wickets of the cottage, and preparing their
country fare.
I left them enjoying it, and soon beheld the ancient ramparts and
cypresses of Bassano; whose classic appearance recalled the memory of
former times, and answered exactly the ideas I had pictured to myself of
Italian edifices. Though encompassed by walls and turrets, neither
soldiers nor custom-house officers start out from their concealment, to
question and molest a weary traveller, for such is the happiness of the
Venetian state, at least of the terra firma provinces, that it does not
contain, I believe, above four regiments. Istria, Dalmatia, and the
maritime frontiers, are more formidably guarded, as they touch, you
know, the whiskers of the Turkish empire.
Passing under a Doric gateway, we crossed the chief part of the town in
the way to our locanda, pleasantly situated, and commanding a level
green, where people walk and take ices by moonlight. On the right, the
Franciscan church, and convent, half hid in the religious gloom of pine
and cypress; to the left, a perspective of walls and towers rising from
the turf, and marking it, when I arrived, with long shadows, in front;
where the lawn terminates, meadow, wood, and garden run quite to the
base of the mountains.
Twilight coming on, this beautiful spot swarmed with company, sitting in
circles upon the grass, refreshing themselves with fruit and sherbets,
or lounging upon the bank beneath the towers. They looked so free and
happy that I longed to be acquainted with them; and, thanks to a
warm-hearted old Venetian, (the Senator Querini,) was introduced to a
group of the principal inhabitants. Our conversation ended in a promise
to meet the next evening at the villa of La Contessa Roberti, about a
league from Bassano, and then to return together and sing to the praise
of Pachierotti, their idol, as well as mine.
You can have no idea what pleasure we mutually found in being of the
same faith, and believing in one singer; nor can you imagine what
effects that musical divinity produced at Padua, where he performed a
few years ago, and threw his audience into such raptures, that it was
some time before they recovered. One in particular, a lady of
distinction, fainted away the instant she caught the pathetic accents of
his voice, and was near dying a martyr to its melody. La Contessa, who
sings in the truest taste, gave me a detail of the whole affair. “Egli
ha fatto veramente un fanatismo a Padua,” was her expression. I assured
her we were not without idolatry in England, upon his account; but that
in this, as well as in other articles of belief, there were many
abominable heretics.