On the Wednesday after dinner I travelled through a fertile open country of a varied character, and after a journey of fifteen miles I arrived at Ancona in time for supper. Ancona is the capital of the Marches, which district was called by the Latins Picænum. The city is populous, swarming especially with Greeks, Turks, and Sclavonians, and a busy place of traffic. It is well built, flanked on either side by lofty hills, which project into the sea, one of these being occupied by a strong fort, by which we entered, and the other by a church. Between these heights and the slopes thereof the town is built, the main part being placed in the bottom of the valley and along by the sea, where there is a very fine port, and near thereto a magnificent arch built in honour of the Emperor Trajan, his wife, and his sister. The sea passage over into Sclavonia is often made in eight, ten, or twelve hours, and I believe that for six crowns, or a little more, I might have hired a bark to take me to Venice. I paid thirty-three pistoles for the hire of eight horses as far as Lucca, eight days’ journey, the vetturino agreeing to feed the horses and to give me the use of the same for four or five days in addition, if necessary, provided I should pay the outlay on the horses and servants.

I saw many setting dogs in this country, and could have bought one for six crowns. I never ate so many quails before, albeit they were very lean. I put off my departure on the 27th until after dinner, in order to enjoy the beautiful prospect of the town and its situation. At S. Ciriaco,1 the church placed on one of the hills before-named, there are more famous relics than in any other church in the world, but these were not exhibited. We had it from the people here that the quails fly over hither in great numbers from Sclavonia, and that nets are set for them every night on the shore, the hunters luring them on by imitating their cry and calling them down from their high flight in the air. It is said, moreover, that in September they return to Sclavonia. During the night I heard cannon shots in the Abruzzi, which is in the kingdom of Naples, and from parts yet more remote. All along the coast towers are built a league distant one from the other, and whenever any sentinel espies a pirate ship he gives warning by firing a gun to the tower next to him. So rapidly is intelligence sped by this method that it has been found that word may be passed from the extreme point of Italy to Venice in an hour.

The name Ancona is derived from the Greek word2 describing the corner which the sea makes in this spot. The two horns of the coast project and leave between them a deep depression in which the town stands, protected in the front by these two headlands, and in the rear by a high ridge where formerly stood a fort. The Greeks still have their church, over the door of which is an ancient stone inscribed with certain characters which I take to be Sclavonic.3 The women here are for the most part good-looking, and I saw many decent-looking men and good artisans. After dinner we followed the road by the sea, which is calmer and less turbulent than our western ocean. The land is cultivated almost to the water’s edge. After travelling twenty miles we arrived at Sinigaglia in time for bed.

This is a pretty little town, situated in a fine level country and hard by the sea, possessed of a good harbour, and washed on one side by a river which comes down from the mountains. The port is excellently fitted, the quays on either side being covered with wooden framework, where the ships lie in safety, and the entrance furnished with chains. I saw no remains of antiquity. We lodged outside the town in an excellent inn, the only one in the place, which they say was called of old Senogallia, after our forefathers who settled there in the days when they were overthrown by Camillus; now it is under the rule of the Duke of Urbino.4 At this time I felt somewhat unwell, for on the day I left Rome when M. d’ Ossat5 was walking with me, I saluted a gentleman we met, and I did this in so maladroit a fashion that I injured the corner of my right eye with my right thumb, so much so that it bled and remained much inflamed for a long time. When it healed—Erat tunc dolor ad unguem sinistrum. I forgot to mention that I saw at Ancona in the church of San Ciriaco a tombstone to the memory of a certain Antonia Rocamoro, patre: matre, Valletta: Galla, Aquitana: Paciocco Urbinati, Lusitano nupta, who was buried ten or twelve years ago. We quitted Sinigaglia early in the morning, and followed a very agreeable road running by the sea coast. Near dinner time we crossed the Metro, Metaurus, by a large wooden bridge, and dined at Fano, fifteen miles on our road.

This is a small town in a fine and fertile plain, and close to the sea. It is badly built, with narrow, confined streets; but we found excellent provision of bread and wine and fish, though the rooms were poor.6 Fano has an advantage over the other towns of this coast, such as Sinigaglia, Pesaro, and others, in that it is abundantly supplied with fresh water, which is laid on to many public and private fountains, while the people of these other towns must needs fetch their water from the hills. We saw there a fine ancient arch7 bearing an inscription in the name of Augustus, qui muros dederat. The town was known as Fanum Fortunæ. Here, as in other places in Italy, they use a wheel for boulting flour, wherefore their bakers get through more work in one hour than ours in four. At almost every inn are to be found rhymesters, who will reel off on the spur of the moment a string of doggerel appropriate to their hearers. There is a musical instrument in every shop, even at the stocking-darner’s at the corner of the street. Fano is famous beyond all the other towns of Italy for its fair women, but all those we saw were very ugly indeed. I heard from a goodman of the town, of whom I made inquiry on this matter, that the days for the blooming of such beauty were past and gone. On this route the charge for dinner is about ten soldi, each person paying some twenty soldi per diem for everything, and thirty soldi per diem for the hire and maintenance of each horse. This town belongs to the Church.

We failed to see certain towns which lay a little farther along the sea-coast road: Pesaro, a fine city, and well worth a visit; Rimini, and the ancient city of Ravenna—Pesaro being especially interesting, according to report, on account of a fine house which the Duke of Urbino8 has recently caused to be erected on a remarkable site. This same road goes on to Venice. We quitted the sea-coast, and, turning to the left, we traversed a wide plain watered by the Metaurus. On either hand delightful hillsides came in sight, the aspect of this country being not unlike that of the plain of Blaignac about Castillon. On the other side of this river was fought the battle9 between the Romans under Salinator and Claudius Nero and Hasdrubal, who was there slain.

Fossombrone,10 fifteen miles distant from Fano, and belonging to the Duke of Urbino, stands at the entrance to the mountains, which close up towards each other at the end of the flat country. The town stands close to the mountain slopes, and in its lower parts possesses one or two fine straight streets, uniform and well built. Nevertheless, report says, the people are much poorer than those of Fano. In the public place is a large marble pedestal with a long inscription of the age of Trajan, written in honour of a certain inhabitant of the place;11 and set against the wall is another without any sign to proclaim its date. This place was formerly called Forum Sempronii, and the people now maintain that the original town stood farther towards the plain, and that ruins of the same are still to be found on a vastly better site. Here is a stone bridge which carries the Via Flaminia over the Metaurus. Seeing that I arrived in good time—for the miles are short ones, and we are seldom in the saddle more than seven or eight hours—I had plenty of time to talk with the good folk of the place, and to glean from them information concerning their town and its surroundings. We visited a garden belonging to the cardinal of Urbino,12 in which were many vines grafted upon other stocks, and I had some talk with one Vincentius Castellani, a worthy man of letters and a citizen of the place.

On the following morning I departed, and at the third milestone I turned to the left; and, having crossed the bridge over the Cardiana,13 a stream which joins the Metaurus, I went three miles through the mountains, over a narrow and difficult road, at the end of which we came upon a passage, fifty good paces in length, which had been fashioned through a high rock.14 On account of the magnitude of the work, Augustus, who had first set his hand thereto, caused an inscription to be put up in his name. This, however, has perished by time; but another inscription in honour of Vespasian is still to be seen at the other end of the pass. Everywhere round about are remains of vast constructions of great height for the conveyance of water, and below the road rocks of enormous thickness have been cut through or levelled. All along this road, the Via Flaminia, which leads to Rome, are traces of the great stones used for paving, but most of these are buried; and the road, which was originally forty feet wide, is now not more than four. I went out of my way to visit this spot, and then retraced my steps to get once more on my road, which took me at the foot of a range of fertile, gently sloping hills. Towards the end of our journey the road ran now up and now down hill, and at the end of sixteen miles we found ourselves at Urbino.

I could discover no remarkable merit in this place. It is set on the top of a mountain of moderate height, but the town straggles all over the acclivities of the site so that there is scarcely a level foot, and it is up hill or down hill wherever you go. It was Saturday and a market day. We saw the palace,15 which is renowned for its beauty, a huge mass, the foundations of which rest upon the very foot of the hill. The view extends over a thousand other of the adjacent mountains, but is not especially beautiful. To make up for the want of amenity in the palace without and within—there is only one little garden about twenty-five paces wide—they declare that it contains as many chambers as there are days in the year. This may well be true, for the number of rooms is very great, as at Tivoli and other Italian palaces. Looking through one doorway you may often see twenty other doors in succession on one side, and twenty or more on the other. Some portions of the palace are ancient, but the greater part of it was built in 1476 by Federigo Maria della Rovere, who has set forth therein the style and dignity of his various offices and his exploits in war.16 The palace walls are covered in many places with inscriptions of this sort, and one of them declares that this is the fairest dwelling in the world. It is built of brick and vaulted throughout, with none of the wooden ceilings so common in Italy.

The present duke is grand-nephew of the builder of the palace:17 the princes of this family having all been good rulers, and beloved by their subjects. The love of letters has come down from father to son, and the library of the palace is a fine one, but the key of it was not to be found. The duke is all in the Spanish interests, and the arms of Spain appear everywhere in favoured positions: the order of England18 and the Golden Fleece are also displayed, but none of ours. They showed to us a portrait of the first Duke of Urbino, a young man who was slain by his subjects for his unjust dealing,19 but he was not of this family. The present duke has to wife the sister of the Duke of Ferrara,20 who is ten years his senior, but they are on bad terms and live apart, for no other reason, according to rumour, than the jealousy of the duchess. Thus, besides the disparity of age—she being forty-five years of age—there is little hope of children, and if heirs fail the duchy will revert to the Church, an event which would be very distasteful to the people.

I saw there the life-size portrait of Picus Mirandula:21 the face pale, very handsome, and beardless, of a youth of seventeen or eighteen, with a long nose, soft eyes, scant of flesh, and with blonde hair, which came down over the shoulders. The costume he wore was a strange one. In many places in Italy they are wont to build the staircases very level, with shallow steps, so that a man on horseback can easily reach the top. Here the stairs are thus built, and laid with tiles set on edge. The place is by report very cold, and the duke as a rule lives here only during the summer; this statement being confirmed by the fact that in two of the ducal chambers are to be seen other apartments contrived in a corner, and closed on all sides save by one window, which lets in light from the chamber aforesaid. In these apartments the state beds are arranged.

After dinner I again turned aside from my road and went about five miles to visit a spot which has been known in all ages as the Tomb of Hasdrubal. It stands on a high abrupt hill called Monte Deci,22 where are four or five mean cottages and a little church, and a building of thick bricks or tiles, about twenty-five paces in circumference and the same height in feet, and surrounded by seats fashioned of the same bricks and set at intervals of three feet. I cannot say what name masons give to these constructions, something like flying buttresses, which they use as supports. We entered the place from above, there being no door below, and found within a vaulted chamber and nought else—no hewn stone, no inscriptions; but the people of the place affirmed that it formerly contained a marble tablet bearing certain marks, which tablet had been removed not long ago. How the tower got the name it bears I cannot say, and I hardly believe it can be what it claims to be, but it is certain that Hasdrubal was defeated and slain close to the spot. The road became very hilly and deep with mud for an hour after a shower of rain which fell. We crossed the Metaurus by a ford, the stream being here a torrent and too shallow to carry a boat, indeed we had crossed it once before since dining, and found a good road to Castel Durante, fifteen miles from Urbino.

This small town, belonging to the Duke of Urbino, is built on level ground along the Metaurus. The people were firing guns and making merry over the birth of a son to the Princess of Bisignano, the duke’s sister.23 Our vetturini here unsaddled the horses and unbridled them as well, and then, without any discrimination, let them drink what water they would. Both here and at Urbino the wine was adulterated.

On the Sunday morning we came to a plain which, as well as the slopes adjacent, seemed fertile enough, and then passed through Sant’ Angelo, a pretty little town belonging to the Duke of Urbino, and lying on the banks of the Metaurus, the approaches thereto being very handsome. Because it was the eve of May-day they served us some of the little frogs that were wont to be eaten at Mid-Lent.24 Continuing our course along the plain we passed through another village, called Marcatello, and having travelled ten miles along a road which, after quitting Marcatello, began to go uphill, we arrived for dinner at Borgo a Pasci, a small village with a wretched inn at a corner of the mountain. We took only a sup. Then we followed at first a wild and stony track, and had to mount for two miles to the top of the pass, after which came a descent of four miles, the road being stony and wearisome, but not frightful or dangerous, seeing that there were no precipices so abrupt that the eye could not find some point whereon to rest. We had followed the Metaurus to its first home, its source being in these mountains, and had seen it lose itself in the sea at Sinigaglia. As we descended from this height there came in sight a broad and lovely plain, through which ran the Tiber, here some eight miles from its source, and other mountains beyond; a view not unlike that which presents itself in the Limaigne of Auvergne to those who may come down from the Puy de Domme to Clermont. At the top of the pass we emerged from the dominions of the Duke of Urbino into those of the Duke of Florence, those of the Pope lying on the left hand. We arrived for supper at Borgo San Sepolcro, thirteen miles from our last halt.

This little town belongs to the Duke of Florence, and contains nought worth notice. We left it on the first of May, and a mile from the town we passed by a stone bridge over the Tiber, which is here a clear and beautiful stream, a proof that the dirty tawny hue which it bears at Rome—Flavum Tiberini—is caused by the admixture of some other stream. We went for four miles over this plain and came upon a little town on the top of the first hill we ascended. Here, as elsewhere along the road, divers young girls came to meet us, and took hold of our horses’ bridles, singing and begging a gift for the feast of the day. From this hill we descended into a deep stony valley which we followed for some time, riding beside the bed of a torrent, and then we had to mount another barren, stony hill, from the top of which we caught sight of a wide plain. In traversing this we crossed the Chiasso and the Arno by stone bridges, the bridge over the last-named stream being very fine and large; and, having ridden eighteen miles, we put up for the night at Ponte Boriano, where there was but one small house in which we were very badly lodged, as on the three previous nights, and indeed at well-nigh every halting-place on this route.

It would be the height of folly to bring good horses into these parts, seeing that no hay is to be got. After dinner we travelled over a long level track which was full of horrible gaping cracks made by the water in very strange fashion; a vile place to traverse in the winter, I can well imagine, but they are now repairing the road. After this we passed, about two miles to our left, the town of Arezzo, which stands in this same plain on a site which seemed somewhat higher than the surrounding country. We crossed the Ambra by a very high and handsome stone bridge, and supped at Levanella after a journey of ten miles. The inn stands a mile outside the village and has a great reputation, being reckoned—and with reason—to be the best in Tuscany, and indeed, judged by the Italian standard, it is one of the best anywhere. So excellent is the cheer that the neighbouring gentry—so we were told—often meet there, as at Le More’s25 in Paris or at Guillot’s26 at Amiens. They served us on pewter plates, a luxury very rare in these parts. The inn stands by itself, finely situated on level ground, out of which rises a spring of water. We left in the morning and travelled over the plain by a fine straight road, passing through four little walled towns, Montevarchi, S. Giovanni, Figline, and Ancisa,27 and reached Pian della Fonte in time for dinner, after riding twelve miles.

The inn here is indifferent: near by is a spring, a little above Ancisa in the Val d’Arno, which is celebrated by Petrarch; indeed, it is held by some that Ancisa was his birthplace. Certainly they claim this honour for a house some mile distant, of which now only a few paltry fragments remain: in any case they point out the place.28 Here they were planting melons amongst others which had been planted some time before, in the expectation of gathering the same in August. This morning I felt my head heavy and my sight troubled, these being symptoms of those headaches with which I have been affected for the last ten years. This valley was formerly a morass, and Livy relates how Hannibal was forced to ride an elephant when he traversed it, and lost one of his eyes on account of the severity of the season:29 it is assuredly a flat and low-lying country and greatly at the mercy of the floods of the Arno. I refused to eat at dinner, but I repented of this, for had I eaten I might have vomited, and I always find the speediest remedy thereby. Otherwise I am troubled by my head for a day or two, as was now the case. The road was crowded with country-folk taking provisions to Florence, where we arrived after crossing one of the four stone bridges over the Arno, having ridden twelve miles.

On the morrow, after we had heard mass, we set forth and turned a little from our direct route to go visit Castello,30 of which I have spoken in another place; but it chanced that, when we arrived there, the duke’s daughters, who were in residence, were just passing through the garden to hear mass, wherefore we were requested to wait a while, but this I was not disposed to do. On this road we met several processions. First came the banner, then the women, most of whom are very good-looking, and all wearing straw hats, which they make better here than anywhere else;31 these moreover were very well clad for villagers, some wearing heeled shoes and some white slippers. After the women the priest walked, and after him the men. The day before we had met a procession of monks, almost every one of them wearing a straw hat.

Our road led us through a plain very fair and wide, and here, in sooth, I was bound to admit that neither Orleans, nor Tours, nor even Paris, can boast of environs so richly set with villages and houses as Florence; which, with regard to fine houses and palaces, comes first without a doubt. Continuing our way, we came, after riding ten miles, to Prato in time for dinner. This small town, belonging to the Duke of Florence, is situated on the river Bisenzio, which we crossed by a stone bridge at the entry to the town. In no other country are the bridges so numerous or so well maintained; moreover, along the highways we frequently saw large stone pillars inscribed with notices as to what State was responsible for the repair of the roads. At Prato, in the palace, we saw the name and the arms of the Legate Du Prat,32 who was, as they told us, a native of this place. Over the door of the palace is a large statue, crowned and holding an orb in the hand, and at the feet thereof is written Rex Robertus.33 The people here affirm that the town once belonged to us, and, certes, the fleurs de lys are everywhere to be seen, and the arms of the town are fleurs de lys or on a field gules. The cathedral here is a fine one, and adorned with a quantity of black and white marble.

On leaving Prato we again went off our road and journeyed some four miles to visit Poggio,34 a house belonging to the duke, situated on the Ombrone, of which they make great boast. It is built on the plan of Pratolino, and what is remarkable about it is that the builders were able to find room for a hundred fair chambers in so small a space. Amongst other things I saw there many sets of very beautiful bed furniture, albeit of no great value, seeing that they were of that light variegated stuff made entirely of fine wool, interwoven with a fourfold thread of taffetas of the same shade. We saw there also the laboratory of the duke, and his work-room fitted with a lathe and other instruments, this prince being a great mechanician. Thence we went fourteen miles by a direct road running through an exceedingly fertile country, the road being fenced in by a hedge formed by the vines attached to the trees, a very beautiful sight, and arrived at Pistoia in time for supper.

This is a large town on the Ombrone, with broad streets, paved, like those of Florence, Prato, Lucca, and other places, with large, wide slabs of stone. I forgot to say that, from the apartments at Poggio, Florence, Prato, and Pistoia may be seen when sitting at table. While we were there the duke was at Pratolino. At Pistoia we saw very few people about the streets; but the churches are fine, as well as many of the houses. I inquired concerning the sale of the straw hats, which they make at fifteen soldi apiece, and which, in my opinion, would be well worth as many francs in France. In ancient times Catiline was overthrown in a battle close to the town.35 In one of the rooms at Poggio is some tapestry representing hunting of all sorts, and I remarked that one of these was an ostrich chase, the birds being followed by men on horseback and pierced with javelins. The Latins called Pistoia Pistorium,36 and it now belongs to the Duke of Florence. Legend records that the ancient feuds of the houses of Cancellieri37 and Panciatici reduced its population greatly, so that now it does not contain more than eight thousand people, while Lucca, which is no bigger as a city, numbers twenty-five thousand or more. Messer Taddeo Rospigliosi, who had received from Rome a letter written in my favour by Giovanni Franchini, invited me and all those of my company to dine at his house on the morrow. His palace was full of ornament, but the service at table was somewhat rough, and the supply of meat and of attendants was scanty. Additional wine was served after dinner as in Germany. We went to the principal church, and remarked that the elevation of the Host was accompanied by the sound of trumpets, while amongst the boys in the choir were several priests who played upon sackbuts. This poor city pretends to make up for its lost liberties by maintaining a vain semblance of its ancient state. There are nine priors and a Gonfalonier, who are elected every two months, and have the charge of public order. They are maintained by the duke, as they were formerly by the Republic, and lodged in the palace, which they scarcely ever quit, save when they go out all together, being kept continually under restraint.38 The Gonfalonier walks in front of the Podestà, the ducal officer who possesses all the real power, and returns no salutation made to him, simulating a dignity which is altogether imaginary. I felt pity at the sight of men thus satisfied with these apish tricks; moreover, the Grand Duke now wrings from them a tax tenfold greater than what was paid formerly.

In most of the large gardens of Italy the principal alleys are laid down with grass, which is kept mown. Just at this season the cherries began to ripen, and on our way from Pistoia to Lucca we met divers villagers, who offered baskets of strawberries for sale. We set out on Ascension Day after dinner, and for a time kept to the plain; then the road became somewhat mountainous, but we soon emerged upon another fine wide stretch of level country. All about the corn-fields are rows of trees, each tree being attached to its neighbour by vines, wherefore these fields have all the appearance of gardens. The mountains on each side of this road are thickly wooded, chiefly with olives, chestnuts, and mulberries for silkworms. At the end of twenty miles we came upon Lucca, situated in the plain aforesaid, a town about one-third smaller than Bordeaux, and free, except that by reason of its weakness it has put itself under the protection of the Emperor and the house of Austria.39 It is well walled and strengthened with bastions, but the ditches are shallow, and only a scant stream of water flows through the same. Moreover, at the bottom they are full of green plants with wide flat leaves. All round the walls, on the level ground within, are planted two or three rows of trees which afford shade, and would serve, according to what I heard, for fascines in case of need. Viewed from without the place looks like a wood, for the houses are concealed by the trees aforesaid. A guard of three hundred foreign40 soldiers is always kept.

The town is well peopled, principally by silk workers;41 the streets are narrow but handsome, with fine lofty mansions on all sides. They were then constructing a small canal whereby to bring into the city the water of the Serchio, and building a public palace, at a cost of a hundred and thirty thousand crowns, which is almost completed. Besides the townsfolk they claim a population of a hundred and twenty thousand subjects, several small villages, but no other town lying within their jurisdiction. The gentle-folk and warriors of the place are all of the merchant class, the Buonvisi being the most wealthy, and strangers are allowed to enter only by one gate, where there is always a strong guard. I never saw a town in a more pleasant site, surrounded as it is by a most beautiful plain two leagues in extent, and beyond this the lovely mountains and hills, which for the most part are cultivated to the tops. The wines are only passable, and living costs about twenty soldi per diem, the inns being, after the manner of the country, indifferent. Many gentlemen of the city paid me courteous attentions, sending me wine and fruit, and even offering to accommodate me with money.

I tarried in Lucca the Friday and Saturday and left it on Sunday after dinner, of which I did not partake, as I was fasting. The hills nearest to the town are thickly set with pleasant houses. Our way for the most part lay along a low-lying road, fairly level, and running between the mountains, which are well wooded and peopled throughout, the river Serchio flowing beside us. We passed several villages and two strong towns, Reci and Borgo, and we crossed likewise the river aforesaid, which was on our right hand, by a bridge of unwonted height, which spans almost the entire width of the stream with a single arch. We saw several other bridges of this kind on our way, and arrived at Bagni della Villa,42 sixteen miles distant, two hours after noon.