FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote G: We passed yester evening as if we had been in the Apollo.]

[Footnote H: Would dry up old Neptune himself.]

"Et Mediolani mira omnia copia rerum:

Innumeræ cultæque domus facunda virorum

Ingenia et mores læti."

Milan with plenty and with wealth overflows,

And numerous streets and cleanly dwellings shows;

The people, bless'd by Nature's happy force,

Are eloquent and cheerful in discourse.

What I have said this moment will, however, account in some measure for

a thing which he treats with infinite contempt, not unjustly perhaps;

yet does it not deserve the ridicule handed down from his time by all

who have touched the subject. It is about the author, who before his

theatrical representation prefixes an odd declaration, that though he

names Pluto, and Neptune, and I know not who, upon the stage, yet he

believes none of those fables, but considers himself as a Christian, a

Catholick, &c. All this _does_ appear very absurdly superfluous to _us_;

but as I observed, _they_ live nearer the original feats of paganism;

many old customs are yet retained, and the names not lost among them, or

laid up merely for literary purposes as in England. They swear _per

Bacco_ perpetually in common discourse; and once I saw a gentleman in

the heat of conversation blush at the recollection that he had said

_barba Fove_, where he meant God Almighty.

It is likewise unkind enough in Mr. Addison, perhaps unjust too, to

speak with scorn of the libraries, or state of literature, at Milan. The

collection of books at Brera is prodigious, and has been lately much

increased by the Pertusanian and Firmian libraries falling into it: a

more magnificent repository for learning, a more comfortable situation

for students, so complete and perfect a disposition of the books, will

scarcely be found in any other city not professedly a university, I

believe; and here are professors worthy of the highest literary

stations, that do honour to learning herself. I will not indulge myself

by naming any one, where all deserve the highest praise; and it is so

difficult to restrain one's pen upon so favourite a subject, that I

shall only name some rarities which particularly struck me, and avoid

further temptations, where the sense of obligation, and the recollection

of partial kindness, inspire an inclination to praises which appear

tedious to those readers who could not enter into my feelings, and of

course would scarcely excuse them.

Thirteen volumes of MS. Psalms, written with wonderful elegance and

manual nicety, struck me as very curious: they were done by the

Certosini monks lately eradicated, and with beautiful illuminations to

almost every page. A Livy, printed here in 1418, fresh and perfect; and

a Pliny, of the Parma press, dated 1472; are extremely valuable. But the

pleasure I received from observing that the learned librarian had not

denied a place to Tillotson's works, was counteracted by finding

Bolingbroke's philosophy upon the same shelf, and enjoying exactly the

same reputation as to the truth of the doctrine contained in either; for

both were English, and of course _heretical_.

But I must not live longer at Milan without mentioning the Duomo, first

in all Europe of the Gothic race; whose solemn sadness and gloomy

dignity make it a most magnificent cathedral; while the rich treasures

it conceals below exceeded my belief or expectation.

We came here just before the season of commemorating the virtues of the

immortal Carlo Borromeo, to whose excellence all Italy bears testimony,

and Milan _most_; while the Lazaretto erected by him remains a standing

monument of his piety, charity, and peculiar regard to this city, which

he made his residence during the dreadful plague that so devasted it;

tenderly giving to its helpless inhabitants the consolation of seeing

their priest, provider, and protector, all united under one incomparable

character, who fearless of death remained among them, and comforted

their sorrows with his constant presence. It would be endless to

enumerate the schools, hospitals, infirmaries, erected by this

surprising man. The peculiar excellence of his lazaretto, however,

depends on each habitation being nicely separated from every other, so

as to keep infection aloof; while uniformity of architecture is still

preserved, being built in a regular quadrangle, with a chapel in the

middle, and a fresh stream flowing round, so as to benefit every

particular house, and keep out all necessity of connection between the

sick. I am become better acquainted with these matters, as this is the

precise time when the immortal Carlo Borromeo's actions are rehearsed,

and his praises celebrated, by people appointed in every church to

preach his example and record his excellence.

A statue of solid silver, large as life, and resembling, as they hope,

his person, decorated with rings, &c. of immense value, is now exposed

in church for people to venerate; and the subterranean chapel, where his

body lies, is all wainscoted, as I may say, with silver; every separate

compartment chased, like our old-fashioned watch-cases, with some story

out of his life, which lasted but forty-seven years, after having done

more good than any other person in ninety-four; as a capuchin friar said

this morning, who mounted the pulpit to praise him, and seemed to be

well thought on by his auditors. The chanting tone in which he spoke

displeased me, however, who can be at last no competent judge of

eloquence in any language but my own.

There is a national rhetoric in every country, dependant on national

manners; and those gesticulations of body, or depressions of voice,

which produce pity and commiseration in one place, may, without censure

of the orator or of his hearers, excite contempt and oscitancy in

another. The sentiments of the preacher I heard were just and vigorous;

and if that suffices not to content a foreign ear, woe be to me, who now

live among those to whom I am myself a foreigner; and who at best can

but be expected to forgive, for the sake of the things said, that accent

and manner with which I am obliged to express them.

By the indulgence of private friendship, I have now enjoyed the uncommon

amusement of seeing a theatrical exhibition performed by friars in a

convent for their own diversion, and that of some select friends. The

monks of St. Victor had, it seems, obtained permission, this carnival,

to represent a little odd sort of play, written by one of their

community chiefly in the Milanese dialect, though the upper characters

spoke Tuscan. The subject of this drama was taken, naturally enough,

from some events, real or fictitious, which were supposed to have

happened in, the environs of Milan, about a hundred years ago, when the

Torriani and Visconti families disputed for superiority. Its

construction was compounded of comic and distressful scenes, of which

the last gave me most delight; and much was I amazed, indeed, to feel my

cheeks wet with tears at a friar's play, founded on ideas of parental

tenderness. The comic part, however, was intolerably gross; the jokes

coarse, and incapable of diverting any but babies, or men who, by a kind

of intellectual privation, contrive to perpetuate babyhood, in the vain

hope of preferring innocence: nor could I shelter myself by saying how

little I understood of the dialect it was written in, as the action was

nothing less than equivocal; and in the burletta which was tacked to it

by way of farce, I saw the soprano fingers who played the women's parts,

and who see more of the world than these friars, blush for shame, two or

three times, while the company, most of them grave ecclesiastics,

applauded with rapturous delight.

The wearisome length of the whole would, however, have surfeited me, had

the amusement been more eligible; but these dear monks do not get a

holiday often, I trust; so in the manner of school-boys, or rather

school-girls in England (for our boys are soon above such stuff), they

were never tired of this dull buffoonery, and kept us listening to it

till one o'clock in the morning.

Pleasure, when it does come, always bursts up in an unexpected place; I

derived much from observing in the faces of these cheerful friars, that

intelligent shrewdness and arch penetration so visible in the

countenances of our Welch farmers, and curates of country villages in

Flintshire, Caernarvonshire, &c. which Howel (best judge in such a case)

observes in his Letters, and learnedly accounts for; but which I had

wholly forgotten till the monks of St. Victor brought it back to my

remembrance.

The brothers who remained unemployed, and clear from stage occupations,

formed the orchestra; those that were left _then_ without any immediate

business upon their hands, chatted gaily with the company, producing

plenty of refreshments; and I was really very angry with myself for

feeling so cynically disposed, when every thing possible was done to

please me. Can one help however sighing, to think that the monastic

life, so capable of being used for the noblest purposes, and originally

suggested by the purest motives, should, from the vast diversity of

orders, the increase of wealth and general corruption of mankind,

degenerate into a state either of mental apathy, as among the

sequestered monks, or of vicious luxury, as among the more free and open

societies?

Yet must one still behold both with regret and indignation, that rage

for innovation which delights to throw down places once the retreats of

Piety and Learning--Piety, who fought in vain to wall and fortify

herself against those seductions which since have sapped the venerable

fabric that they feared to batter; and Learning, who first opened the

eyes of men, that now ungratefully begin to turn them only on the

defeats of their benefactress.

The Christmas functions here were showy, and I thought well-contrived;

the public ones are what I speak of: but I was present lately at a

private merrymaking, where all distinctions seemed pleasingly thrown

down by a spirit of innocent gaiety. The Marquis's daughter mingled in

country-dances with the apothecary's prentice, while her truly noble

parents looked on with generous pleasure, and encouraged the mirth of

the moment. Priests, ladies, gentlemen of the very first quality, romped

with the girls of the house in high good-humour, and tripped it away

without the incumbrance of petty pride, or the mean vanity of giving

what they expressively call _foggezzione_, to those who were proud of

their company and protection. A new-married wench, whose little fortune

of a hundred crowns had been given her by the subscription of many in

the room, seemed as free with them all, as the most equal distribution

of birth or riches could have made her: she laughed aloud, and rattled

in the ears of the gentlemen; replied with sarcastic coarseness when

they joked her, and apparently delighted to promote such conversation as

they would not otherwise have tried at. The ladies shouted for joy,

encouraged the girl with less delicacy than desire of merriment, and

promoted a general banishment of decorum; though I do believe with full

as much or more purity of intention, than may be often met with in a

polished circle at Paris itself.

Such society, however, can please a stranger only as it is odd and as it

is new; when ceremony ceases, hilarity is left in a state too natural

not to offend people accustomed to scenes of high civilization; and I

suppose few of us could return, after twenty-five years old, to the

coarse comforts of _a roll and treacle._

Another style of amusement, very different from this last, called us

out, two or three days ago, to hear the famous Passione de Metastasio

sung in St. Celso's church. The building is spacious, the architecture

elegant, and the ornaments rich. A custom too was on this occasion

omitted, which I dislike exceedingly; that of deforming the beautiful

edifices dedicated to God's service with damask hangings and gold lace

on the capitals of all the pillars upon days of gala, so very

perversely, that the effect of proportion is lost to the eye, while the

church conveys no idea to the mind but of a tattered theatre; and when

the frippery decorations fade, nothing can exclude the recollection of

an old clothes shop. St. Celso was however left clear from these

disgraceful ornaments: there assembled together a numerous and

brilliant, if not an attentive audience; and St. Peter's part in the

oratorio was sung by a soprano voice, with no appearance of peculiar

propriety to be sure; but a satirical nobleman near me said, that

"Nothing could possibly be more happily imagined, as the mutilation of

poor St. Peter was continuing daily, and in full force;" alluding to the

Emperor's rough reformations: and he does not certainly spare the coat

any more than Jack in our Tale of a Tub, when he is rending away the

embroidery. Here, however, the parallel must end; for Jack, though

zealous, was never accused of burning the lace, if I remember right,

and putting the gold in his pocket. It happened oddly, that chatting

freely one day before dinner with some literary friends on the subject

of coat armour, we had talked about the Visconti serpent, which is the

arms of Milan; and the spread eagle of Austria, which we laughingly

agreed ought to _eat double _ because it had _two necks_: when the

conversation insensibly turned on the oppressions of the present hour;

and I, to put all away with a joke, proposed the _fortes Homericæ_ to

decide on their future destiny. Somebody in company insisted that _I_

should open the book--I did so, at the omen in the twelfth book of the

Iliad, and read these words:

Jove's bird on sounding pinions beat the skies;

A bleeding serpent of enormous size

His talons trussed; alive and curling round

She stung the bird, whose throat receiv'd the wound.

Mad with the smart he drops the fatal prey,

In airy circles wings his painful way,

Floats on the winds, and rends the heavens with cries:

Amid the hosts the fallen serpent lies;

They, pale with terror, mark its spires unroll'd,

And Jove's portent with beating hearts behold.

It is now time to talk a little of the theatre; and surely a receptacle

so capacious to contain four thousand people, a place of entrance so

commodious to receive them, a show so princely, so very magnificent to

entertain them, must be sought in vain out of Italy. The centre front

box, richly adorned with gilding, arms, and trophies, is appropriated to

the court, whose canopy is carried up to what we call the first gallery

in England; the crescent of boxes ending with the stage, consist of

nineteen on a side, _small boudoirs_, for such they seem; and are as

such fitted up with silk hangings, girandoles, &c. and placed so

judiciously as to catch every sound of the fingers, if they do but

whisper: I will not say it is equally advantageous to the figure, as to

the voice; no performers looking adequate to the place they recite upon,

so very stately is the building itself, being all of stone, with an

immense portico, and stairs which for width you might without hyperbole

drive your chariot up. An immense sideboard at the first lobby, lighted

and furnished with luxurious and elegant plenty, as many people send for

suppers to their box, and entertain a knot of friends there with

infinite convenience and splendour. A silk curtain, the colour of your

hangings, defends the closet from intrusive eyes, if you think proper to

drop it; and when drawn up, gives gaiety and show to the general

appearance of the whole: while across the corridor leading to these

boxes, another small chamber, numbered like _that_ it belongs to, is

appropriated to the use of your servants, and furnished with every

conveniency to make chocolate, serve lemonade, &c.

Can one wonder at the contempt shewn by foreigners when they see English

women of fashion squeezed into holes lined with dirty torn red paper,

and the walls of it covered with a wretched crimson fluff? Well! but

this theatre is built in place of a church founded by the famous

Beatrice de Scala, in consequence of a vow she made to erect one if God

would be pleased to send her a son. The church was pulled down and the

playhouse erected. The Arch-duke lost a son that year; and the pious

folks cried, "A judgment!" but nobody minded them, I believe; many,

however, that are scrupulous will not go. Meantime it is a beautiful

theatre to be sure; the finest fabric raised in modern days, I do

believe, for the purposes of entertainment; but we must not be partial.

While London has twelve capital rooms for the professed amusement of the

Public, Milan has but one; there is in it, however, a ridotto chamber

for cards, of a noble size, where some little gaming goes on in carnival

time; but though the inhabitants complain of the enormities committed

there, I suppose more money is lost and won at one club in St. James's

street during a week, than here at Milan in the whole winter.

Every nation complains of the wickedness of its own inhabitants, and

considers them as the worst people in the world, till they have seen

others no better; and then, like individuals with their private sorrows,

they find change produces no alleviation. The Mount of Miseries, in the

Spectator, where all the people change with their neighbours, lay down

an undutiful son, and carry away with them a hump-back, or whatever had

been the source of disquiet to another, whom he had blamed for bearing

so ill a misfortune thought trifling till he took it on himself, is an

admirably well constructed fable, and is applicable to public as well

as private complaints.

A gentleman who had long practised as a solicitor, and was retired from

business, stored with a perfect knowledge of mankind so far as his

experience could inform him, told me once, that whoever died before

sixty years old, if he had made his own fortune, was likely to leave it

according as friendship, gratitude, and public spirit dictated: either

to those who had served, or those who had pleased him; or, not

unfrequently, to benefit some charity, set up some school, or the like:

"but let a man once turn sixty," said he, "and his natural heirs _are

sure of him_:" for having seen many people, he has likewise been

disgusted by many; and though he does not love his relations better than

he did, the discovery that others are but little superior to them in

those excellencies he has sought about the world in vain for, he begins

to enquire for his nephew's little boy, whom as he never saw, never

could have offended him; and if he does not break the chain of a

favourite watch, or any other such boyish trick, the estate is his for

ever, upon no principle but this in the testator.

So it is by those who travel a good deal; by what I have seen, every

country has so much in it to be justly complained of, that most men

finish by preferring their own.

That neither complaints nor rejoicings here at Milan, however, proceed

from affectation, is a choice comfort: the Lombards possess the skill to

please you without feigning; and so artless are their manners, you

cannot even suspect them of insincerity. They have, perhaps for that

very reason, few comedies, and fewer novels among them: for the worst of

every man's character is already well known to the rest; but be his

conduct what it will, the heart is commonly right enough--_il luon cuor

Lombardo_ is famed throughout all Italy, and nothing can become

proverbial without an excellent reason. Little opportunity is therefore

given to writers who carry the dark lanthorn of life into its deepest

recesses--unwind the hidden wickedness of a Maskwell or a Monkton,

develope the folds of vice, and spy out the internal worthlessness of

apparent virtue; which from these discerning eyes cannot be cloked even

by that early-taught affectation which renders it a real ingenuity to

discover, if in a highly polished capital a man or woman has or has not

good parts or principles--so completely are the first overlaid with

literature, and the last perverted by refinement.

* * * * *

April 2, 1785.

The cold weather continues still, and we have heavy snows; but so

admirable is the police of this well-regulated town, that when

over-night it has fallen to the height of four feet, no very uncommon

occurrence, no one can see in the morning that even a flake has been

there, so completely do the poor and the prisoners rid us of it all, by

throwing immense loads of it into a navigable canal that runs quite

round the city, and carries every nuisance with it clearly away--so that

no inconveniencies can arise.

Italians seem to me to have no feeling of cold; they open the

casements--for windows we have none (now in winter), and cry, _che bel

freschetto_![Footnote: What a fresh breeze!] while I am starving

outright. If there is a flash of a few faggots in the chimney that just

scorches one a little, no lady goes near it, but sits at the other end

of a high-roofed room, the wind whistling round her ears, and her feet

upon a perforated brass box, filled with wood embers, which the

_cavalier fervente_ pulls out from time to time, and replenishes with

hotter ashes raked out from between the andirons. How sitting with these

fumes under their petticoats improves their beauty of complexion I know

not; certain it is, they pity _us_ exceedingly for our manner of

managing ourselves, and enquire of their countrymen who have lived here

a-while, how their health endured the burning _fossils_ in the chambers

at London. I have heard two or three Italians say, _vorrei anch' io

veder quell' Inghilterra, ma questo carbone fossile_![Footnote: I would

go see this same England myself I think, but that fuel made of minerals

frights me!] To church, however, and to the theatre, ladies have a great

green velvet bag carried for them, adorned with gold tassels, and lined

with fur, to keep their feet from freezing, as carpets are not in use

here. Poor women run about the streets with a little earthen pipkin

hanging on their arm, filled with fire, even if they are sent on an

errand; while men of all ranks walk wrapped up in an odd sort of white

riding coat, not buttoned together, but folded round their body after

the fashion of the old Roman dress that one has seen in statues, and

this they call _Gaban_, retaining many Spanish words since the time that

they were under Spanish government. _Buscar_, to seek, is quite familiar

here as at Madrid, and instead of Ragazzo, I have heard the Milanese say

_Mozzo_ di Stalla, which is originally a Castilian word I believe, and

spelt by them with the _c con cedilla_, Moço. They have likewise Latin

phrases oddly mingled among their own: a gentleman said yesterday, that

he was going to Casa _Sororis_, to his sister's; and the strange word

_Minga_, which meets one at every turn, is corrupted, I believe, from

_Mica_, a crumb. _Piaz minga_, I have not a crumb of pleasure in it, &c.

The uniformity of dress here pleases the eye, and their custom of going

veiled to church, and always without a hat, which they consider as

profanation of the _temple_ as they call it, delights me much; it has an

air of decency in the individuals, of general respect for the place, and

of a resolution not to let external images intrude on devout thoughts.

The hanging churches, and even public pillars, set up in the streets or

squares for purposes of adoration, with black, when any person of

consequence dies, displeases me more; it is so very dismal, so paltry a

piece of pride and expiring vanity, and so dirty a custom, calling bugs

and spiders, and all manner of vermin about one so in those black

trappings, it is terrible; but if they remind us of our end, and set us

about preparing for it, the benefit is greater than the evil.

The equipages on the Corso here are very numerous, in proportion to the

size of the city, and excessively showy: the horses are long-tailed,

heavy, and for the most part black, with high rising forehands, while

the sinking of the back is artfully concealed by the harness of red

Morocco leather richly ornamented, and white reins. To this magnificence

much is added by large leopard, panther, or tyger skins, beautifully

striped or spotted by Nature's hand, and held fast on the horses by

heavy shining tassels of gold, coloured lace, &c. wonderfully handsome;

while the driver, clothed in a bright scarlet dress, adorned and trimmed

with bear's skin, makes a noble figure on the box at this season upon

days of gala. The carnival, however, exhibits a variety unspeakable;

boats and barges painted of a thousand colours, drawn upon wheels, and

filled with masks and merry-makers, who throw sugar-plums at each other,

to the infinite delight of the town, whose populousness that show

evinces to perfection, for every window and balcony is crowded to

excess; the streets are fuller than one can express of gazers, and

general mirth and gaiety prevail. When the flashing season is over, and

you are no longer to be dazzled with finery or stunned with noise, the

nobility of Milan--for gentry there are none--fairly slip a check case

over the hammock, as we do to our best chairs in England, clap a coarse

leather cover on the carriage top, the coachman wearing a vast brown

great coat, which he spreads on each side him over the corners of his

coach-box, and looks as somebody was saying--like a sitting hen.

The paving of our streets here at Milan is worth mentioning, only

because it is directly contrary to the London method of performing the

same operation. They lay the large flag stones at this place in two

rows, for the coach wheels to roll smoothly over, leaving walkers to

accommodate themselves, and bear the sharp pebbles to their tread as

they may. In every thing great, and every thing little, the diversity of

government must perpetually occur; where that is despotic, small care

will be taken of the common people; where that is popular, little

attention will be paid to the great ones. I never in my whole life heard

so much of birth and family as since I came to this town; where blood

enjoys a thousand exclusive privileges, where Cavalier and Dama are

words of the first, nay of the only importance; where wit and beauty are

considered as useless without a long pedigree; and virtue, talents,

wealth, and wisdom, are thought on only as medals to hang upon the

branch of a genealogical tree, as we tie trinkets to a watch in England.

I went to church, twenty yards from our own door, with a servant to wait

on me, three or four mornings ago; there was a lady particularly well

dressed, very handsome, two footmen attending on her at a distance, took

my attention. Peter, said I, to my own man, as we came out, _chi è

quella dama? who is that lady? Non è dama_, replies the fellow,

contemptuously smiling at my simplicity--_she is no lady_. I thought

she might be somebody's kept mistress, and asked him whose? _Dio ne

liberi_, returns Peter, in a kinder accent--for there _heart_ came in,

and he would not injure her character--God forbid: _è moglie d'un ricco

banchiere_--she is a rich banker's wife. You may see, added he, that she

is no lady if you look--the servants carry no velvet stool for her to

kneel upon, and they have no coat armour in the lace to their liveries:

_she_ a lady! repeated he again with infinite contempt.

I am told that the Arch-duke is very desirous to close this breach of

distinction, and to draw merchants and traders with their wives up into

higher notice than they were wont to remain in. I do not _think_ he will

by that means conciliate the affection of any rank. The prejudices in

favour of nobility are too strong to be shaken here, much less rooted

out so: the very servants would rather starve in the house of a man of

family, than eat after a person of inferior quality, whom they consider

as their equal, and almost treat him as such to his face. Shall we then

be able to refuse our particular veneration to those characters of high

rank here, who add the charm of a cultivated mind to that situation

which, united even with ignorance, would ensure them respect? When

scholarship is found among the great in Italy, it has the additional

merit of having grown up in their own bosoms, without encouragement from

emulation, or the least interested motive. His companions do not think

much the more of him--for _that_ kind of superiority. I suppose, says a

friend of his, he must be fond of study; for _chi pensa di una maniera,

chi pensa d' un altra, per me sono stato sempre ignorantissimo_[I].

[Footnote I: One man is of one mind, another of another: I was always a

sheer dunce for my own part.]

These voluntary confessions of many a quality, which, whether possessed

or not by English people, would certainly never be avowed, spring from

that native sincerity I have been praising--for though family

connections are prized so highly here, no man seems ashamed that he has

no family to boast: all feigning would indeed be useless and

impracticable; yet it struck me with astonishment too, to hear a

well-bred clergyman who visits at many genteel houses, say gravely to

his friend, no longer ago than yesterday--that friend a man too eminent

both for talents and fortune--"Yes, there is a grand invitation at such

a place to-night, but I don't go, because _I am not a gentleman--perche

non sono cavaliere_; and the master desired I would let you know that

_it was for no other reason_ that you had not a card too, my good

friend; for it is an invitation of none but _people of fashion you

see_." At all this nobody stares, nobody laughs, and nobody's throat is

cut in consequence of their sincere declarations.

The women are not behind-hand in openness of confidence and comical

sincerity. We have all heard much of Italian cicisbeism; I had a mind to

know how matters really stood; and took the nearest way to information

by asking a mighty beautiful and apparently artless young creature, _not

noble_, how that affair was managed, for there is no harm done _I am

sure_, said I: "Why no," replied she, "no great _harm_ to be sure:

except wearisome attentions from a man one cares little about: for my

own part," continued she, "I detest the custom, as I happen to love my

husband excessively, and desire nobody's company in the world but his.

We are not _people of fashion_ though you know, nor at all rich; so how

should we set fashions for our betters? They would only say, see how

jealous he is! if _Mr. Such-a-one_ sat much with me at home, or went

with me to the Corso; and I _must_ go with some gentleman you know: and

the men are such ungenerous creatures, and have such ways with them: I

want money often, and this _cavaliere servente_ pays the bills, and so

the connection draws closer--_that's all_." And your husband! said

I--"Oh, why he likes to see me well dressed; he is very good natured,

and very charming; I love him to my heart." And your confessor! cried

I.--"Oh, why he is _used to it_"--in the Milanese dialect--_è assuefaà_.

Well! we will not send people to Milan to study delicacy or very refined

morality to be sure; but were the crust of British affectation lifted

off many a character at home, I know not whether better, that is

_honester_, hearts would be found under it than that of this pretty

girl, God forbid that I should prove an advocate for vice; but let us

remember, that the banishment of all hypocrisy and deceit is a vast

compensation for the want of _one great virtue_.--The certainty that

the worst, whatever that worst may be, meets your immediate inspection,

gives great repose to the mind: you know there is no latent poison

lurking out of sight; no colours to come out stronger by throwing water

suddenly against them, as you do to old fresco paintings: and talking

freely with women in this country, though you may have a chance to light

on ignorance, you are never teized by folly.

The mind of an Italian, whether man or woman, seldom fails, for ought I

see, to make up in _extent_ what is wanted in _cultivation_; and that

they possess the art of pleasing in an eminent degree, the constancy

with which they are mutually beloved by each other is the best proof.

Ladies of distinction bring with them when they marry, besides fortune,

as many clothes as will last them seven years; for fashions do not

change here as often as at London or Paris; yet is pin-money allowed,

and an attention paid to the wife that no Englishwoman can form an idea

of: in every family her duties are few; for, as I have observed,

household management falls to the master's share of course, when all

the servants are men almost, and those all paid by the week or day.

Children are very seldom seen by those who visit great houses: if they

_do_ come down for five minutes after dinner, the parents are talked of

as _doting_ on them, and nothing can equal the pious and tender return

made to fathers and mothers in this country, for even an apparently

moderate share of fondness shewn to them in a state of infancy. I saw an

old Marchioness the other day, who had I believe been exquisitely

beautiful, lying in bed in a spacious apartment, just like ours in the

old palaces, with the tester touching the top almost: she had her three

grown-up sons standing round her, with an affectionate desire of

pleasing, and shewing her whatever could sooth or amuse her--so that it

charmed me; and I was told, and observed indeed, that when they quitted

her presence a half kneeling bow, and a kind kiss of her still white

hand, was the ceremony used. I knew myself brought thither only that she

might be entertained with the sight of the foreigner--and was equally

struck at her appearance--more so I should imagine than she could be at

mine; when these dear men assisted in moving her pillows with emulative

attention, and rejoiced with each other apart, that their mother looked

so well to-day. Two or three servants out of livery brought us

refreshments I remember; but her maid attended in the antichamber, and

answered the bell at her bed's head, which was exceedingly magnificent

in the old style of grandeur--crimson damask, if I recollect right, with

family arms at the back; and she lay on nine or eleven pillows, laced

with ribbon, and two large bows to each, very elegant and expensive in

any country:--with all this, to prove that the Italians have little

sensation of cold, here was no fire, but a suffocating brazier, which

stood near the door that opened, and was kept open, into the maid's

apartment.

A woman here in every stage of life has really a degree of attention

shewn her that is surprising:--if conjugal disputes arise in a family,

so as to make them become what we call town-talk, the public voice is

sure to run against the husband; if separation ensues, all possible

countenance is given to the wife, while the gentleman is somewhat less

willingly received; and all the stories of past disgusts are related to

_his_ prejudice: nor will the lady whom he wishes to serve look very

kindly on a man who treats his own wife with unpoliteness. _Che cuore

deve avere!_ says she: What a heart he must have! _Io non mene fido

sicuro_: I shall take care not to trust him sure.

National character is a great matter: I did not know there had been such

a difference in the ways of thinking, merely from custom and climate, as

I see there is; though one has always read of it: it was however

entertaining enough to hear a travelled gentleman haranguing away three

nights ago at our house in praise of English cleanliness, and telling

his auditors how all the men in London, _that were noble_, put on a

clean shirt every day, and the women washed the street before his

house-door every morning. "_Che schiavitù mai!_" exclaimed a lady of

quality, who was listening: "_ma natural mente farà per commando del

principe_."--"_What a land of slavery!_" says Donna Louisa, I heard her;

"_but it is all done by command of the sovereign, I suppose_."

Their ideas of justice are no less singular than of delicacy: but those

are more easily accounted for; so is their amiable carriage towards

inferiors, calling their own and their friends servants by tender names,

and speaking to all below themselves with a graciousness not often used

by English men or women even to their equals. The pleasure too which the

high people here express when the low ones are diverted, is

charming.--We think it vulgar to be merry when the mob is so; but if

rolling down a hill, like Greenwich, was the custom here, as with us,

all Milan would run to see the sport, and rejoice in the felicity of

their fellow-creatures. When I express my admiration of such

condescending sweetness, they reply--_è un uomo come un altro;--è

battezzato come noi_; and the like--Why he is a man of the same nature

as we: he has been christened as well as ourselves, they reply. Yet do I

not for this reason condemn the English as naturally haughty above their

continental neighbours. Our government has left so narrow a space

between the upper and under ranks of people in Great Britain--while our

charitable and truly Christian religion is still so constantly employed

in raising the depressed, by giving them means of changing their

situation, that if our persons of condition fail even for a moment to

watch their post, maintaining by dignity what they or their fathers have

acquired by merit, they are instantly and suddenly broken in upon by the

well-employed talents, or swiftly-acquired riches, of men born on the

other side the thin partition; whilst in Italy the gulph is totally

impassable, and birth alone can entitle man or woman to the society of

gentlemen and ladies. This firmly-fixed idea of subordination (which I

once heard a Venetian say, he believed must exist in heaven from one

angel to another) accounts immediately for a little conversation which I

am now going to relate.

Here were two men taken up last week, one for murdering his

fellow-servant in cold blood, while the undefended creature had the

lemonade tray in his hand going in to serve company; the other for

breaking the new lamps lately set up with intention to light this town

in the manner of the streets at Paris. "I hope," said I, "that they will

hang the murderer." "I rather hope," replied a very sensible lady who

sate near me, "that they will hang the person who broke the lamps: for,"

added she, "the first committed his crime only out of revenge, poor

fellow! because the other had got his mistress from him by treachery;

but this creature has had the impudence to break our fine new lamps, all

for the sake of spiting _the Arch-duke_." The Arch-duke meantime hangs

nobody at all; but sets his prisoners to work upon the roads, public

buildings, &c. where they labour in their chains; and where, strange to

tell! they often insult passengers who refuse them alms when asked as

they go by; and, stranger still! they are not punished for it when they

do.

Here is certainly much despotic power in Italy, but, I fancy, very

little oppression; perhaps authority, once acknowledged, does not

delight itself always by the fatigue of exertion. _Sat est prostrasse

leoni_ is an old adage, with which perhaps I may be the better

acquainted, as it is the motto to my own coat of arms; and unless

sovereignty is hungry, for ought I see, he does not certainly _devour_.

The certainty of their irrevocable doom, softened by kind usage from

their superiors, makes, in the mean time, an odd sort of humorous

drollery spring up among the common people, who are much happier here at

Milan than I expected to find them: every great house giving meat,

broth, &c. to poor dependents with liberal good-nature enough, so that

mighty little wandering misery is seen in the streets; unlike those of

Genoa, who seem mocked with the word _liberty_, while sorrow, sickness,

and the most pinching want, pine at the doors of marble palaces, whose

owners are unfeeling as their walls.

Our ordinary people here in Lombardy are well clothed, fat, stout, and

merry; and desirous to divert themselves, and their protectors, whom

they love at their hearts. There is however a degree of effrontery among

the women that amazes me, and of which I had no idea, till a friend

shewed me one evening from my own box at the opera, fifty or a hundred

low shop-keepers wives, dispersed about the pit at the theatre, dressed

in men's clothes, _per disimpegno_ as they call it; that they might be

more _at liberty_ forsooth to clap and hiss, and quarrel and jostle,

&c. I felt shocked. "_One who comes from a free government need not

wonder so_," said he: "On the contrary, Sir," replied I, "where every

body has hopes, at least possibility, of bettering his station, and

advancing nearer to the limits of upper life, none except the most

abandoned of their species will wholly lose sight of such decorous

conduct as alone can grace them when they have reached their wish:

whereas your people know their destiny, future as well as present, and

think no more of deserving a higher post, than they think of obtaining

it." Let me add, however, that if these women _were_ a little riotous

during the Easter holidays, they are _dilletantes_ only. In this city no

female _professors_ of immorality and open libertinage, disgraceful at

once, and pernicious to society, are permitted to range the streets in

quest of prey; to the horror of all thinking people, and the ruin of all

heedless ones.

With which observation, to continue the tour of Italy, we this day

leave, for a twelvemonth at least, Milano il grande, after having spent,

though not quite finished the winter in it; as there fell a very heavy

snow last Saturday, which hindered our setting out a week ago, though

this is the sixth of April; and exactly five months have now since last

November been passed among those who have I hope approved our conduct

and esteemed our manners. That they should trouble themselves to examine

our income, report our phrases, and listen, perhaps with some little

mixture of envy, after every instance of unshakable attachment shewn to

each other, would be less pleasing; but that I verily believe they have

at last dismissed us with general good wishes, proceeding from innate

goodness of heart, and the hope of seeing again, in a year's time or so,

two people who have supplied so many tables here with materials for

conversation, when the fountain of talk was stopt by deficiencies, and

the little stream of prattle ceased to murmur for want of a few pebbles

to break its course.

We are going to Venice by the way of Cremona, and hope for amusement

from external objects: let us at least not deserve or invite

disappointment by seeking for pleasure beyond the limits of innocence.