My Venetian life ended with the month of November; and on the thirtieth of that month, at eight o’clock in the evening, I got into the courier’s boat for Bologna. Our accommodation consisted of one room for all sorts of passengers, and their luggage, among which we found seats as well as we could. One of the company was a young Venetian widow, a marchesa, who being young and handsome, and left in good circumstances by her first husband, was doubting whether she should marry again, and expressed her doubts to the company. As she spoke in the Venetian dialect, I missed a good deal of her conversation. Another was captain of a trading vessel, who claimed me for a countryman, because he was a Maltese; but his Italian was still more difficult than that of the marchesa. About midnight a new arrangement of the packages was completed, and mats were spread, partly on them, and partly on the floor, and we all lay as we could. Before morning we stuck for three hours on a sand-bank, but in other respects had a most prosperous voyage. About six we stopt at a coffee-house, and most of my companions had some black coffee, i. e. coffee without milk, but as I wanted a little more sleep, I did not follow their example.

The courier engages to find us dinner and supper for one day, and dinner the next, but no breakfast; and he ingeniously contrived to give us dinner at five o’clock, and supper at eight, in order to save as much of the latter as possible; but every body felt it a duty to eat something at supper, out of spite. We changed boats, and soon afterwards entered the Po, a great, muddy river running above the level of the country, great part of which in the present season is under water. Our voyage terminated at midnight; but it makes no difference whether the boat arrives at six in the evening or six in the morning, you must remain in it till daylight, when all the lighter luggage is taken out and carried by land to Bologna. As however there might be some grumbling, if the passengers found themselves at Ponte di Lago Scuro early in the evening, and had no better place to sleep in than the boat, the courier takes care this shall never happen. We stopped five hours at Ferrara,^[36] the courier assuring me we should not stay there above an hour. This is one of the customary lies of these people in Italy, but I was not sufficiently aware of it. If I had known beforehand, that the carriage would stay so long at Ferrara, I could have employed my time very pleasantly; but this was impossible with the expectation of having to go away at every moment. On the other hand, the couriers and vetturini usually mention a time of setting off in the morning rather later than that which they intend, thinking probably, that their passengers would be unwilling to dedicate so short a time to repose, and well knowing, that when once roused, a man does not easily settle to sleep again. We did not arrive at Bologna till past ten at night, but the kindness of Sig. Vracliotti had furnished me with a letter to a brother of his, who is a student in the university, and I stept at once into a comfortable lodging. I have a large bed-room, well furnished, and a great bed, with a silk bag of down to lay over my feet. No hangings, which are not usual in Italy. Adjoining is another room, or ante-chamber, of about the same size, which is my sitting room; and between this and the hall, another sitting-room, which communicates with two more bed-rooms; and I always have to pass through these two sitting-rooms in going to my own bed-room. No party is formed, and no fires are lighted, except in the kitchen, till about three o’clock, which is dinner-time. Afterwards they are kept up all the rest of the day, though the party always separate after dinner. In the evening we again assemble, but there is no other regular meal. Some are reading; the ladies are knitting; some are talking, and some playing at cards. Besides the Greek student, there are two lodgers, one of whom is an elderly gentleman, whom they call Sig. Paolo, but what his cognomen is I do not know, for the name in Italy is always that of baptism, and by this you are addressed. The other is also a student in the university, a very modest, pleasing young man. The Greek complains much of the fast days. The Greek church is, indeed, more severe in this respect than the Roman; but he tells me, that at Corfu they are little attended to.

We have here the Roman money, which ascends by tens; ten bajocchi making a paolo; ten paoli a scudo. This is the most convenient numeration of any, unless, indeed, that of twelve be preferable; the great thing is always to use the same multiple, even to the largest amount, and twelve has an advantage over ten, in its greater divisibility. The most common silver coins are, the piece of the two paoli, called also a papetto, and the half-paolo, or grosetto, for the Italian leaves nothing without a name. The latter generally has some charitable motto, Pauperi porrige manum; In cibos pauperum; and others similar.

The pictures here are, to my taste, far preferable to those of Venice; for if the Venetian school surpass in colouring, and perhaps, in composition, the Bolognese is decidedly superior in drawing and expression; and the Caracci shine here like gods. The two finest collections are, that of the paintings returned from Paris, which are put up for the present in the suppressed church of the Spirito Santo, and the one at the Pinacotheca, which is collected from the suppressed churches, and is, perhaps, even finer than the other. Yet it contains a great deal of trash, from which the other is free. There are fine things scattered about in the different churches, and several very extensive private collections.

In architecture I shall not have a great deal to say; Bologna is a fine city, abounding in large churches and handsome palaces; but though the general style is good, there is little of very excellent, or of very striking and characteristic, to demand attention. The foot-paths are under arches, as at Bern and at Padua, but here they are fine lofty arcades, and the architecture is in better taste, more finished, and on a larger scale. I must however, take you round as usual to the principal buildings.

I. The largest church is that of San Petronio, of which the nave alone, which, with a little temporary choir, is all that has been erected, is 400 feet long. It was founded in 1390, when Bologna was a republic; the first stone being laid with great solemnity on the 7th of July in that year. The architect was a Bolognese, of the name of Antonio Vincenzi, or Di Vincenzo, who, in 1396, was ambassador from the Bolognese, to the Venetian republic. The plan was to have been a Latin cross, with a door at the end of the nave, and of each transept; each door opening from a public square, to form which a number of houses and churches were to be pulled down. From a plan published in 1653, (but which I did not see), it appears that the whole length internally was to have been 570 Bolognese feet, or nearly 712 English, (the length of St. Peter’s at Rome is only 571,) that of the transept 370 Bolognese, or 462 English feet. An octagonal cupola in the middle was to be 130 feet in diameter, and 400 feet high, both in Bolognese measure, to which I shall adhere in the rest of the description, each foot being very nearly 15 English inches. This word cupola is perhaps ill-applied by the writer of the Bolognese Guide, but the size of it, equal to the diameter of the whole building, including the side-chapels, does not seem to be a Gothic idea.^[37] There were to have been four towers at the four extreme angles of the transept. It appears however, that this is only one of several plans, none perhaps of much authority, but none of which I have been able to procure. In the description of a model, (which I believe exists no longer) it is said that the length was to have been 590 feet. The width of the three arms, each of them augmented by a chapel on each side, (I do not understand this) 390 feet; the diameter of the cupola 86 feet, and the height 250, including the lantern. This model was made by Arduino, who ceased to be architect to the fabric in 1530. It does not appear, that as far as has been executed, any alteration took place in the original plan; (with the exception of the choir already mentioned) the disputes are altogether on what was intended to have been the form of the remaining part.

The elevation at present begun would present a series of five gables, the middle of which is the largest and highest; those of the aisles are lower, and those of the side-chapels lower still; and between every two gables there was to be a pinnacle. The part erected is cut up with abundance of horizontal lines. The ancient design seems to have been hardly as high as the present, and had fewer horizontal lines; in the front there were three round windows, and no others. Multitudes of designs have been offered for this façade, and among others, two of Palladio are preserved. The best of these has a pediment supported on four columns (he would not venture to introduce a greater number even in a case like this, where he most wanted them); two wings of the same order as the portico, with their fragments of pediments abutting against an attic; and two secondary wings, with a smaller order. Each order was to be on pedestals, all of the same height, and entirely cut through by the doorways. It would not have succeeded; the thing was too big for the artist. The proper design for such a building, where western towers are out of the question, is a central gable, with two leantos on each side; but such an arrangement could only succeed in Gothic architecture, for it would be difficult, if not impossible, to give sufficient height to the centre, supposing it to form a Greek portico.

The principal nave of this church is 49 feet in width. The two first arches are 100 feet 10 inches high, but after these were erected, disputes arose about the proper height; many contending that it ought to form an equilateral triangle on the whole width of the base, which would give an elevation of 133 feet 6 inches. The work was suspended till 1647, when it was executed with a height of 118 feet. The aisles are 70 feet 6 inches high, and 24 feet 6 inches wide; the side-chapels 24 feet 6 inches square, and 48 feet high. The choir is 116 feet long, and 106 feet high, all in Bolognese measure. Two side-chapels open into each division of the nave; the width of the side-arches being the same as that of the nave. These wide arches give a great appearance of space; but they either become enormously high, or else the height of the arch itself is too great for that of the pier which supports it. Here the first is at least as much as the latter, a proportion, or rather a disproportion, which is very offensive, and rendered still more so by the great height of the capitals. These are but little ornamented, and do not gratify the eye by any richness of detail, or beauty of workmanship. Indeed there is much fault to be found throughout, in the proportions of the different parts. All the principal arches are retained by iron ties. Yet with all these faults, the size and simplicity of design, and the space which every part seems to enjoy, without confusion or huddling, produce a pleasing impression. On the pavement of this church is the meridional line marked by Cassini in 1653, 178 feet 11½ inches in length.

II. The church of San Stefano is a very curious building, being formed by the union of no less than seven churches. In one of these are some very ancient columns with whimsical capitals, supporting circular arches, but the precise dates do not seem to be known. There are coupled columns, one of rich marble, the other of stone, miserably painted to imitate it, and this combination is repeated several times in the circuit of a round church, which is said to have been, and with great probability, an ancient baptistery. The church adjoining is reputed to have been formerly the cathedral, and the earliest of this group. It was founded by S. Faustino about 330, is something like our Norman, with small, rounded windows in the nave. One of the chapels contains an Ionic capital, and some arabesques, which are probably antique; and several fragments of the middle ages, which are interesting to an antiquary.

III. San Giacomo Maggiore is a large church, which was finished in 1315, but modernized in 1478; and from its appearance it seems to have undergone a posterior modernization: here are three side-chapels to each arch of the nave. Almost all the old Italian churches have been modernized, but enough remains to shew that Gothic architecture was never well understood in this country. The outside reminded me of that of S. Fermo at Verona, but it has never been completed.

IV. The Cathedral is a fine building of modern architecture, (I speak of the inside) built in 1575, but the front was not put up till 1647. It is 174 feet long, (of Bologna) exclusive of the choir and presbytery, which are 74 more; 127 feet wide, including the chapels; and 103 feet high; the width of the nave is 72 feet, the piers are perforated, and instead of side-aisles there are recesses, forming, if you please, three short transepts; a disposition I have already described to you in the church of the Salvatore at Venice. It is not uncommon in Italy; and this cathedral is perhaps one of the best examples of the arrangement, which I confess is one which pleases me. It gives great width to the nave, and reduces the aisles to a row of side-chapels communicating with each other. The entablature, in this edifice, is continued without breaks; and the side-arches, instead of being carried up the height of the centre, are kept under the architrave; and this is also the case with the choir, which appears in consequence rather low and confined. The order is Corinthian, and not bad, though incorrect. Nothing however is gained by the deviation from the usual forms. The vaulting is semicircular, springing a little above the entablature, without any moulding to mark the precise point. Some of the altars are very good. A simple portico of two Corinthian columns never displeases; and with good ornaments, good proportions, and handsome marbles, cannot fail to be beautiful.

V. The church of San Giorgio, built in 1589, is one of those things, which without any thing very blamable, yet produce no effect. It exhibits a range of arches between Ionic pilasters, and a whitewashed vault; this last circumstance is certainly injurious, but not sufficient to account for its tameness.

VI. The church of San Salvadore was begun in 1605, and finished in 1623. The front is not handsome, the wings being too small; and the general appearance is that of several smaller buildings erected on the summit of a large one. Internally, it has perforated piers, and consists merely of two large arches and a semicircular choir as high as the nave. It is a very handsome room, but without much of the character of a church, and this want of peculiar character, seems to me the prevailing defect of the churches of Italian architecture. On the other hand, the Gothic architects, in their productions, whether in Italy or in England, hardly ever missed it; but perhaps this opinion may be owing merely to early association.

VII. San Paolo is another fine room, with perforated piers, and much more character; which is, I believe, owing to its greater comparative height and length. The proportions are very good, but the superabundance of painting shows that an error on that side also may be injurious.

VIII. I mention to you S. Bartolommeo di Porta Ravegnana, to notice a good effect in ornamental painting; the general tone is too gaudy, but the choir, with Corinthian pilasters, of a purplish gray, with gilt mouldings, and the capitals and ornaments in the panels of the pilasters also gilt, is very elegant.

IX. The length and general proportions of the church of San Domenico, would produce a fine perspective, if it were not most industriously destroyed. Every other arch is made into a sort of separate composition, with pilasters and an entablature; and a smaller included order to ornament the opening. The intermediate ones are quite plain, without even the entablature. I should hardly however have mentioned this church, if it were not for a very beautiful little chapel which it contains, said to have been built from a design of Michael Angelo Buonarotti. Two other architects dispute it with him, apparently on better foundations, Floriano Ambrosino, and Francesco Terribilia; it forms a cross in itself, with a dome at the intersection, and a semicircular choir at the end: the pilasters are of rich, coloured marbles: and the parts are well disposed, and finely proportioned; the semidome of the choir was painted in fresco by Guido, and the other paintings are by no means contemptible. The whole is exceedingly beautiful.

X. I walked one day up to the Madonna del Monte, a fine church, but not in very pure taste, about three miles from Bologna. The most remarkable circumstance is, that one walks under a portico the whole way. It is not in one continued straight line, but makes four or five angles in the ascent. The architecture of this portico has no merit in point of taste, and the apparent construction is still worse, since to a thing on this small scale, iron ties are necessary to all the arches, and the beautiful effect of the perspective produced by the long series of receding curves, is quite spoilt by them. One cannot walk along it without feeling impressed with its wonderful length; it is indeed a monument of superstition, erected for her own purposes, but one must admire the courage and public spirit which could undertake such a work, and the perseverance necessary to complete it.

From the Madonna del Monte I went to the Certosa, now the public 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.