NICE, November 10, 1764.
DEAR DOCTOR,--In my enquiries about the revenues of Nice, I am obliged
to trust to the information of the inhabitants, who are much given to
exaggerate. They tell me, the revenues of this town amount to one
hundred thousand livres, or five thousand pounds sterling; of which I
would strike off at least one fourth, as an addition of their own
vanity: perhaps, if we deduct a third, it will be nearer the truth.
For, I cannot find out any other funds they have, but the butchery and
the bakery, which they farm at so much a year to the best bidder; and
the droits d'entree, or duties upon provision brought into the city;
but these are very small. The king is said to draw from Nice one
hundred thousand livres annually, arising from a free-gift, amounting
to seven hundred pounds sterling, in lieu of the taille, from which
this town and county are exempted; an inconsiderable duty upon wine
sold in public-houses; and the droits du port. These last consist of
anchorage, paid by all vessels in proportion to their tonnage, when
they enter the harbours of Nice and Villa Franca. Besides, all foreign
vessels, under a certain stipulated burthen, that pass between the
island of Sardinia and this coast, are obliged, in going to the
eastward, to enter; and pay a certain regulated imposition, on pain of
being taken and made prize. The prince of Monaco exacts a talliage of
the same kind; and both he and the king of Sardinia maintain armed
cruisers to assert this prerogative; from which, however, the English
and French are exempted by treaty, in consequence of having paid a sum
of money at once. In all probability, it was originally given as a
consideration for maintaining lights on the shore, for the benefit of
navigators, like the toll paid for passing the Sound in the Baltic.
[Upon further inquiry I find it was given in consideration of being
protected from the Corsairs by the naval force of the Duke of Savoy and
Prince of Monaco.] The fanal, or lanthorn, to the eastward of Villa
Franca, is kept in good repair, and still lighted in the winter. The
toll, however, is a very troublesome tax upon feluccas, and other small
craft, which are greatly retarded in their voyages, and often lose the
benefit of a fair wind, by being obliged to run inshore, and enter
those harbours. The tobacco the king manufactures at his own expence,
and sells for his own profit, at a very high price; and every person
convicted of selling this commodity in secret, is sent to the gallies
for life. The salt comes chiefly from Sardinia, and is stored up in the
king's magazine from whence it is exported to Piedmont, and other parts
of his inland dominions. And here it may not be amiss to observe, that
Sardinia produces very good horses, well-shaped, though small; strong,
hardy, full of mettle, and easily fed. The whole county of Nice is said
to yield the king half a million of livres, about twenty-five thousand
pounds sterling, arising from a small donative made by every town and
village: for the lands pay no tax, or imposition, but the tithes to the
church. His revenue then flows from the gabelle on salt and wine, and
these free-gifts; so that we may strike off one fifth of the sum at
which the whole is estimated; and conclude, that the king draws from
the county at Nice, about four hundred thousand livres, or twenty
thousand pounds sterling. That his revenues from Nice are not great,
appears from the smallness of the appointments allowed to his officers.
The president has about three hundred pounds per annum; and the
intendant about two. The pay of the commandant does not exceed three
hundred and fifty pounds: but he has certain privileges called the tour
du baton, some of which a man of spirit would not insist upon. He who
commands at present, having no estate of his own, enjoys a small
commandery, which being added to his appointments at Nice, make the
whole amount to about five hundred pounds sterling.
If we may believe the politicians of Nice, the king of Sardinia's whole
revenue does not fall short of twenty millions of Piedmontese livres,
being above one million of our money. It must be owned, that there is
no country in Christendom less taxed than that of Nice; and as the soil
produces the necessaries of life, the inhabitants, with a little
industry, might renew the golden age in this happy climate, among their
groves, woods, and mountains, beautified with fountains, brooks,
rivers, torrents, and cascades. In the midst of these pastoral
advantages, the peasants are poor and miserable. They have no stock to
begin the world with. They have no leases of the lands they cultivate;
but entirely depend, from year to year, on the pleasure of the
arbitrary landholder, who may turn them out at a minute's warning; and
they are oppressed by the mendicant friars and parish priests, who rob
them of the best fruits of their labour: after all, the ground is too
scanty for the number of families which are crouded on it.
You desire to know the state of the arts and sciences at Nice; which,
indeed, is almost a total blank. I know not what men of talents this
place may have formerly produced; but at present, it seems to be
consecrated to the reign of dulness and superstition. It is very
surprising, to see a people established between two enlightened
nations, so devoid of taste and literature. Here are no tolerable
pictures, busts, statues, nor edifices: the very ornaments of the
churches are wretchedly conceived, and worse executed. They have no
public, nor private libraries that afford any thing worth perusing.
There is not even a bookseller in Nice. Though they value themselves
upon their being natives of Italy, they are unacquainted with music.
The few that play upon instruments, attend only to the execution. They
have no genius nor taste, nor any knowledge of harmony and composition.
Among the French, a Nissard piques himself on being Provencal; but in
Florence, Milan, or Rome, he claims the honour of being born a native
of Italy. The people of condition here speak both languages equally
well; or, rather, equally ill; for they use a low, uncouth phraseology;
and their pronunciation is extremely vitious. Their vernacular tongue
is what they call Patois; though in so calling it, they do it
injustice.--Patois, from the Latin word patavinitas, means no more than
a provincial accent, or dialect. It takes its name from Patavium, or
Padua, which was the birthplace of Livy, who, with all his merit as a
writer, has admitted into his history, some provincial expressions of
his own country. The Patois, or native tongue of Nice, is no other than
the ancient Provencal, from which the Italian, Spanish and French
languages, have been formed. This is the language that rose upon the
ruins of the Latin tongue, after the irruptions of the Goths, Vandals,
Huns, and Burgundians, by whom the Roman empire was destroyed. It was
spoke all over Italy, Spain, and the southern parts of France, until
the thirteenth century, when the Italians began to polish it into the
language which they now call their own: The Spaniards and French,
likewise, improved it into their respective tongues. From its great
affinity to the Latin, it was called Romance, a name which the
Spaniards still give to their own language. As the first legends of
knight-errantry were written in Provencal, all subsequent performances
of the same kind, have derived from it the name of romance; and as
those annals of chivalry contained extravagant adventures of knights,
giants, and necromancers, every improbable story or fiction is to this
day called a romance. Mr. Walpole, in his Catalogue of royal and noble
Authors, has produced two sonnets in the antient Provencal, written by
our king Richard I. surnamed Coeur de Lion; and Voltaire, in his
Historical Tracts, has favoured the world with some specimens of the
same language. The Patois of Nice, must, without doubt, have undergone
changes and corruptions in the course of so many ages, especially as no
pains have been taken to preserve its original purity, either in
orthography or pronunciation. It is neglected, as the language of the
vulgar: and scarce any-body here knows either its origin or
constitution. I have in vain endeavoured to procure some pieces in the
antient Provencal, that I might compare them with the modern Patois:
but I can find no person to give me the least information on the
subject. The shades of ignorance, sloth, and stupidity, are
impenetrable. Almost every word of the Patois may still be found in the
Italian, Spanish, and French languages, with a small change in the
pronunciation. Cavallo, signifying a horse in Italian and Spanish is
called cavao; maison, the French word for a house, is changed into
maion; aqua, which means water in Spanish, the Nissards call daigua. To
express, what a slop is here! they say acco fa lac aqui, which is a
sentence composed of two Italian words, one French, and one Spanish.
This is nearly the proportion in which these three languages will be
found mingled in the Patois of Nice; which, with some variation,
extends over all Provence, Languedoc, and Gascony. I will now treat you
with two or three stanzas of a canzon, or hymn, in this language, to
the Virgin Mary, which was lately printed at Nice.
1
Vierge, maire de Dieu,
Nuostro buono avocado,
Embel car uvostre sieu,
En Fenestro adourado,
Jeu vous saludi,
E demandi en socours;
E sense autre preludi,
Canti lous uvostre honours.
Virgin, mother of God,
our good advocate,
With your dear son,
In Fenestro adored,
I salute you,
And ask his assistance;
And without further prelude,
I sing your honours.
[Fenestro is the name of a place in this neighbourhood, where there is
a supposed miraculous sanctuary, or chapel, of the Virgin Mary.]
2.
Qu'ario de Paradis!
Que maesta divine!
Salamon es d'advis,
Giugiar de uvostro mino;
Vous dis plus bello:
E lou dis ben soven
De toutoi lei femello,
E non s'engano ren.
What air of Paradise!
What majesty divine!
Solomon is of opinion,
To judge of your appearance;
Says you are the fairest
And it is often said
Of all females,
And we are not all deceived.
3.
Qu'ario de Paradis!
Que maesta divine!
La bellezzo eblovis;
La bonta l'ueigl raffino.
Sias couronado;
Tenes lou monde en man
Sus del trono assettado,
Riges lou avostre enfan.
What air of Paradise!
What majesty divine!
The beauty dazzles;
The goodness purifies the eye:
You are crowned:
You hold the world in your hand:
Seated on the throne,
You support your child.
You see I have not chosen this canzon for the beauty and elegance of
thought and expression; but give it you as the only printed specimen I
could find of the modern Provencal. If you have any curiosity to be
further acquainted with the Patois, I will endeavour to procure you
satisfaction. Meanwhile, I am, in plain English,--Dear Sir, Ever yours.