Ajm VL S^arh on Anlujvitm , Art% and Lt$teK*> during 
an Rxcvrsipn in l$(dy t in tftcycat * , 1 80 ^ and 1 803 , Jfty, Joseph 
FottsYTt^ ,Rw|f 8vo, pp* 308, London* and Pa* 

JflW. 


VI^S. 


Tv is *ery refreshing to meet with a Work like the one now before 
-** os, exhibiting the impression.* made by an interesting jour- 
ney, though over <b beaten path> on ft mind of no ordinary 
strength ahd originality, Without the prolixity so fatiguing in 
most modem writers, and with no appearance whatever of book- 
making* The unfortunate termination of the author’s travels in 
France, where he was detained, and lrom whence be dates his 
work in the tenth year of hi* captivity, adds a claim to the for- 
bearance of iritio, more especially in those points where the 
want of acquaintance with recent productions might otherwise 
have been policed, lie apptnrs to have be< u kept in ignorance 
of the works published in this country during the greater part 
of his detention. , 

Mr Forsyth is evidently a man of observation and reflection 5 
lie brings to his task, a very respectable knowledge of the sub- 
jects which ought to occupy an Jtalian traveller ; and he is lb? 
the most part both liberal apd original in his remarks* He ex* 
presses himself shortly and with force, though he» does not al-. 
ways steer clear of affectation, and not unfrequently takes dog- - 
nmtic.il apd even extra vagan^. views of things* He writes, too, 
rather for those, who have examined the subject, or are engag- 
ed in surveying it, than for the uninformed; and tins often gives 
, hjt statements and observations an air of obscurity, which the 
initiated will be content to take for the sated* of their shortness 
and substantial qualities. His book is, indeed, in all respects 
a contrast to Mr Eustace’s valuable work; for it is full of vigour 
— ' always displays an active reasoning mind free from prejudice — 
more prone at all times to argue than to feel* and occupied with 
the foatfoiv'rather than the languege~or onty careful about the 
latter, with the view of condensing it, and giviftg it the vigour 
of cpigrmil aud.point, Frequently he is* very happy in descrip- 

‘ |# , .■ ‘ . . ■ , . * 

jy^.the length to which opr account of Mr Eustace’s bpok 

,vve t,lmU pot folW .M minutely over t ih^ * 

regurtUugthis $i$ck supplement 

toiW formteft some of hE most remark* 

abto passes* Perintpsrthei^ider may no# take a livelier inte- 
rest fo U mncpuld be felt on the for^ 

mer ' We tnen much connexion wUMhai 1 



1&1& JFfli&ylfL’a Memories on * WEST, 

fair country, as if it % in another planet, and not much great* , 
et chance of seeing it. Now there is scarcely a doubt, t)b$t iht 
communication with its treasures of arlfcmluature will speedily 
be thrown open, and that the pleasured of wandering over classic 
ground, so Idng cut off, or enjoyed by stealthy will be restored 
to all the rest of the world. t - * • 

Mr^ Fbrsyth begins hk excursion at Nice, ^boutCIhrfetmas 
} 801, where 4 a soft and balmy air, oranges glowing 4n every 
4 garden, lodgings without a chimney, ami beds with musquito- 
4 curtains, presented the first signs of Italy. * His- observation* 
here and at Pisa, are few and meagre? for he f had arrived at the 
latter place before he thought of committing any notes to paper; 
We thus early in his book, however, meet with traces of the vi ? • 
gorous tone which it every where sustains. Speaking of a dead 
Christ in alto relievo by Michael Angelo, he says, 4 The life and 
4 death which he has thrown into this little thing, the breathing 
4 tenderness of the Virgin, and the heavenly composure of the 
4 corpse, appeared beauties foreign to the tremendous genius of 
4 the artist . 9 And upon visiting the 4 Hospital of Incurables 9 * 
where priests and choristers were 4 chanting between two row? 

4 of wretches, whom their pious noise would not suffer to die it* 

4 peace, ’ he adds, that 4 the very name of such hospitals-, by 
4 forbidding the patient to hope and the physician to struggle* 

4 cuts off, at once, two sources of recovery. ' p. h. * 

The author’s remarks on Tuscany, lead him naturally to speak 
of the most celebrated literati who flourished in Italy about flu* 
time of his journey. The following sketch of Fontana, brother 
of the Abbate, is sufficiently characteristic. 

4 This museum is under the direction of Felice Fontana, now a 
Cayaliere, yet more generally known than bis brother by the title of. 
Abbe j, merely because he had once worn the clerical habit, from 
motives of economy. Fontana seems to preside here in the scienth 
fee world ; not by superior knowledge, for his is rather diffuse thah 
deep ; by bringing into science foe man-of- the -world faculty, by a 
well-managed talent of display and evasion,, which gains him credit 
for double what he knows, by the art of improving the inventions rif 
others, and passing their joint work under his own name. In his 
hands every man’s ability is available, and nothing is lost- 

4 Fontana is above that consequential reserve which many affect 
on subjects where they are known to excel. He readily detailed to, 
me the history of imitative anatomy, i( an art invented by Zumbw, 
arid revived; ** said Fontana, by rne. * I began with a very young; 
artist, whom ; I instructed to copy foe <iu man eye in wax. This I 
showed to Leopold, who, pleased with the attempt, and desirous 
that his sons should learn anatomy wfrftout attending dissections* Oe- . 
dered me to complete the whol* system-*** v - 1 ^ 



35W ForsythV Remarks on Itottf. Jati 

M I sfodd aftme fit a neto art, without guide or assistants. Ana- 
tomists cottVi not model, and modellers were ignorant of interior 
anatomy, «TTiuV obliged to form workmen for myself, I selected 
some mechanical drudges, who should execute my orders without 
intrudinginto my design. Superior artistst are too full of their own 
plans to follow patiently another's ; too fond of embellishing nature* 
to toil iit foe slavish imitation which I required. Such difficulties I 
surmounted; but before I finished the system, the funds had failed. ^ 

4 This active Prometheus is creating a decomposable statue, 
which will consist of ten thousand separable pieces, and three mil- 
lions of distinct parts, both visible and tangible. I saW only the 
head and the upper region of the trunk ; but this machine appeared 
to me as sensible to the weather as its fleshly original i$. The wood 
is so warped by the heat, that the larger contours are already per- 
ceptibly altered, and the pieces are connected by pegs which become 
unfit on every change of atmosphere. When I suggested this to the 
Cavaliere — <c The objection is nothing. Ivory is to o dear i papier 
*nSch6 has been tried, but it failed. ” p. 39, 40. 

' Our author is equally expressive in painting the dead ; the? 
following sentence is horribly picturesque, and is somewhat li- 
able to the ob jection which it states against the gloomy modeller* 

* Wax was first used in imitating anatomy by Zumbo, a Si- 

* cilian of a melancholy, mysterious cast, some of whose works 

* are preserved here. Three of these bear the gloomy charac- 

* ter of the artist, who has exhibited the horrible details of thd 
€ plague and the charnel-house, including the decomposition of 

* bodies through every stage of putrefaction — the blackening; 
« the swelling, the bursting of the trunk — the worm, the rat 

* and the tarantula at work — and the mushroom springing fresh 

* in the midst of corruption. * p. 38. 

The subject of Impromiscttcn'i is well handled ; and Its dud 
share allotted to the facilities of the language, and the various 
tricks of the art, hi accounting for the wonders displayed by its 
professors. We suspect, however, that much more light would 
be thrown upon this matter, by a very simple experiment, that! 
has yet been struck out by those who have treated of it. We 
shall first give the account of La Fantasia, and then mention 
Otrr experiment. 

* This lady convenes at her house a crowd of admirers, Whenever 

she chooses to be inspired* The first time 1 attended her accademia; 
a jfottng lady of foe same family and name as the great Michael An* 
gelo, began foe evening by repeating some verses or her own compo- 
sition* Presently La Fantastic* broke out into song in the words, of 
the astonished me by her rapidity and command of num- 

flowed in praise, of foe poetess, and brought her 

C :UBMMpPielr to otfr applause* Her numbers, however, flowed irregu- 
Varying with foe fluctuation of sentiment ; while her song 



l&H. Forsyth's Remarks on Italy. 

corresponded, changing from aria to recitativo, from recitativo to a 
measured recitation* 

‘ She went round her circle, and called on each person for a tjieme. 
Seeing her busy with her fan, I proposed the Fan as a subject ; and 
this little weapon she painted as she promised, ‘ col pennel divino di 
‘ fantasia felice. * In tracing its origin she followed Pignotti, and in 
describing its use she acted and analyzed to us all the coquetry of 
the thing. She allowed herself no pause, as, the moment she cooled* 
her estro would escape. 

‘ So extensive is her reading, that she can challenge any theme. 
One morning, after other classical subjects had been sung, a Vene- 
tian count gave her the boundless field of Apollonius Rhodius, in 
which she displayed a minute acquaintance with all the argonautic 
fable. Tired at last of demi-gods, I proposed the sofa for a task, 
and sketched to her the intioduction of Cowper's poem. She sen 
out with his idea, but, being once entangled in the net of mytholo- 
gy, she soon transformed his sofa into a Cytherean couch, and 
brought Venus, Cupid and Mars on the scene ; for such embroidery 
enters -nto the web of every improvvisatore. I found this morning- 
accadernia Hatter than the fir*t. * (p. 5 k 55 ) 

Now, we hope it will not be deemed ungallant to this fair 
performer and her ail, if we suggest the propriety of having a 
short-hand writer slationed in some convenient nook, with the 
implements of his art ; we should thus have the real merits of 
the verse before our eyes, stript of its various accompaniments ; . 
not merely of music, vocal and instrumental, beauty, hospita- 
lity, society, voice and gesture, lor these are accidental $ and 
an old Tuscan peasant, and a deformed Homan staymaker, have 
recently been the first improvvi safari of their day ; — but we speak 
of the circumstance always accompanying this /bat, and dis- 
qualifying the audience from rightly judging, — the suddenness 
of the exhibition, — the rapidity which hurries us on from verse 
to verse and thought to thought, without leaving time to weigh 
the real merits of the composition ; so that, after hearing a long 
declamation, we are left unable to tell whether wc admire any 
thing more than a knack of pouring forth indifferent rhymes 
without stint. The measure and rhyme, indeed, aid the de- 
ception ; and its conditions being complied with, we are very 
apt to forget how many of the requisites of poetry are left un- 
provided for. The improvvisatore would certainly, if desired 
: to deliver a piece of sensible, elegant and fanciful prose, feel 
fiimself much at a loss. s \ , 

r * Among other notices of the dramatic writers in Tuscany, wc 
find many remarks oft A 1 fieri, the praises in which, all candid 
men will admit to be somewhat exaggerated, and Englishmen . 
wili find it hard to endure. Oti ins conduct* Mr Forsyth i* 
Vox., xxii. xo. 44. €c ^ ; 



S$0 


. Jborsytl i’s Remarks on Italy. Jan. 

sqinewhat severe ; and wc meet here with a curious sally of Ja- 
cobitism, which, for the rarity of the thing in these times, may 
be noticed, , Alfieri dedicated his Agis to Charles Ist’s merno- 
i*y, in a fit of hatred to kings, * Was it manly, (says the au- 
.* thor) was it humane to call ’ up the shade of an accomplished 

* Prince, a Prince fully as unfortunate as he was criminal, on 

* purpose to insult him with a mock dedication ? ’ But the next 
charge is rather more singular; for it seems to insinuate that 
the Jacobites owe to Alfieri tlieir want of a head ; and that 
our gracious Sovereign holds an undisputed throne by force of 
the same deficiencies, i Of all Italians, (says he), this least be- 
4 came Alfieri, the reputed husband of that very woman whose 
4 sterility has extinguished the race of Charles . 9 For our parts 
we profc-9 to feel no regret at the fate of the individuals, or the 
extinction of the family. The death of Charles I., and the glo- 
rious struggles that led to it, arc among the very foundation 
stones of English liberty ; and if feelings of regret mix them- 
selves at all with the contemplation of those times, it is, that 
the fate of the Royal Martyr did not befal the profligate and 
perfidious son, rather than the misguided and unhappy father. 
An Englishman in these times must have lived abroad, until lie 
lias forgotten the blessings of a limited and constitutional mo- 
narchy, before he could whine in favour of the Stuarts; and we 
verily believe that a long duration of wicked and unfortunate 
policy in their Royal successors, would scarcely revive the inte- 
rest in their behalf, which the freedom of a century has now 
extinguished. 

The same interesting picture is given by Mr Forsyth of the* 
Superior industry and worth of the Tuscans, in which all other 
writers agree. Of their agriculture he mentions a few rather 
singular circumstances. No leases are granted ; but the farmer* 
cultivate as much in the security of not being turned out, as 
they do in this country under similar circumstances. Many now 
Occupy the same ground that their remote ancestors tilled in the 
times of the Florentine republic. An ancient species of contract 
prevails here, as it once did in other countries immediately after 
‘Villenage was abolished,— half the stocking belongs to landlord, 
And half to tenant; and this extends down to poultry and pigeons. 
The plough is conceived less favourable to productiveness tlmn 
the spade; and hence the tenant is generally bound to dte,-w 
rather shovel pne* third of his farm with a triangular^patj^ 
Thp corn fields are intersected with rows of vine and olive trees, 
to close* that a jplpn^h can witli difficulty work between them, 
0ue-]^$ nne epuptry is mountainous, producing nothing 
- r one-sixth part consists of hills covered with the o* 



1814. 


Y , ^ , % 

Forsytli’f Remarks on Italy. $$ 1 

live and vine ; and the remaining third is pfoin. 'fhe pro- 
perty is distributed in the hands of about 40,000 families and 
bodies corporate. c T^his number, * sa^s Mr Forsyth, f was 
greatly increased by Leopold, who, in selling the crown lands, stu- 
diously divided large tracts of rich but neglected soil into a thou- 
sand lictle properties, and thus made them tenfold more productive. 
His favourite plan of encouraging agriculture, consisted not in boards, 
societies, or premiums, but in giving the labourer a security and in- 
terest in the soil, in multiplying small freeholds, in extending the 
HveUi , or life-leases, wherever he could, and in maintaining sacred- 
ly that equal division of stock and crop between the landlord and the 
tetiant, which engages both equally in improving the farm. The 
younger Pliny, who practised this last plan, sets it in its true light. 
#< Non numino sed partibus loeem, ac deinde ex incis aliquos opens 
exactores fructibus ponam. Est alioquin nullum justius genus redi- 
tus quarn quod terra, curium, annus rcfcrt ; at hoc mugnam fidem, 
acres oculos, mimerosas man us poscit. v p. 8,5. 

The delightful regions of Camakloli anti Vallombrnsa, the 
very names of which are pleasurable from their liquid softness^ 
are described with considerable animation ; but we have former- 
ly dwelt on this spot with sullicicut minuteness. We shall there- 
fore turn to some of Mr Forsyth's observations upon Rome, and 
her prodigies of ancient and modern lame. Wc cannot intro- 
duce these better than with his just and 'manly invectives against 
the Roman character, poured forth with a praiseworthy con- 
tempt of the slavish and fashionable pedantry which would make 
us admire such a people for their crimes, because their poets 
were tuneful, and their orators consummate masters of the pas- 
sions. He is speaking of the Colosseum, and the horrors of 
which it was formerly the scene. 

< Every nation has undergone its revolution of vices ; and, as 
cruelty is not the present vice of ours, we can all humanely exe- 
crate the purpose of amphitheatres, now that they lie in ruins. Mo- 
ralists may tell us, that the truly brave are never cruel ; but this mo- 
nument says u No.” Here sat the conquerors of the world, coolly 
to enjoy the tortures and death of men who had never offended 
them. Two aqueducts were scarcely sufficient to wash off the hu- 
man blood which a few hours’ sport shed in this imperial shambles. 
Twice in one day came the senators and matrons of Rome to thfti 
butchery : a virgin always gave the signal for slaughter ; and When 
glutted with bloodshed, those ladies sat down in the w£fc and steam- 
ing arena to a luxurious supper. 

Suqh reflections check our regret for its ruin. A$ it now stands* 
the Colosseum is a striking image of Rome itself; — decayed — va* 
cantr— serious — yet grand;— -half grey and half green— erect on one 
side and fallen <?n the other, with consecrated ground in its bjsom^ 

G c a ■ " " 



ForsytVs Remarks on Ildly. Jam 

inhabited by*a beadsman — visited by every cast; for moralists, an- 
tiquaries, pointers,' architects, devtvtees, all meet here to meditate, 
to examine, tfr draw, to measure, and to pray. “ In contemplating 
*<• antiquities, " says Livy, “ the mind itself becomes antique. ” It 
contracts from such objects a venerable rust, which I prefer to the 
polish and the point of those wits who have lately profaned thisjiugust 
#uiri With ridicule- * p- 159, 1-60. 

This is Well thought, and well said. The following passage* 
may show the power with which this sturdy and original ob- 
server expresses himself on the fine arts. 

* Caravaggio wrought some years exclusively for this palace, where 
he found an asylum from the gallows and painted in a room which 
was hlackehed to harmonize with his genius and his heart. The ruf- 
fian loved the scriptures, and rarely excelled out of them- His fru- 
gal, pencil gives but few figures, nor much of those few; for his lights 
fall in red and partial masses, without any diffusion. Whatever they 
fall on, indeed, starts into life; but the rest is lost in abrupt dark- 
ness: a transition hardly in r.atuie, or true only in candlelights. — 
Here are his Christ, awaking the disciples, Thomas touching the 
wound, a faun squeezing grapes, and some fine old saints. This 
gloomy man could paint deep thoughtfulness, strong passion, intense 
devotion, or broad laughter; but he had no pencil for smiles, or beau- 
ty, or placid dignity, or love. 

‘ ‘ Here are two figures of St John, writing the Revelation ; the one 
by Raphael, the other by Douienichimx Raplktel places the Evan- 
gelist among clouds and thunders, in the act of obeying the call— 
44 Write ; ” Domenichino sets him on a stone, turning in ecstasy from 
his books and angels, round to the Voice which dictates. Both the 
figures beam with beauty, and grace, and soul, and inspiration; but 
their beauty is that of the young Apollo, and St John at Patinos was 
nearly a hundred years old, 

4 The Massacre of the Innocents, a subject inexplicably horrible to 
nie, forms here an admirable picture ; where the horror is not, as u- 
sual, dissipated in a multitude of details- Like Aristides, in paint- 
ihg the sack of a town, Poussin gives only one child and one mo- 
ther, but a mother whose shrieks frighten away her friends. Ex- 
pression is just on the extreme. Agony, carried one point further, 
Would fall into the ludicrous* 

; * Guido's Paul and Anthony, is a noble picture, disgraced by a 
^Wretched glory. Glories broke into painting during the Gothic pc- 
1 tod of the art, and still prevail over all its philosophy and improve- 
ment. Superstition knew her rigU as a patroness, and dictated her 
own absurdities to the masters whom she paid. 

' Here is Christ before Pilate ; the work of the worthy Hontborst. 
^Jfere, left to himself,, and in himself, the Saviour awakes all those 
aacted ^©possessions, which must be felt for arraigned and insulat- 
/; *4 vWo4 Here is nro dignity of" costume, no glory above him, no 



1614, 


Forsythe Remarks cn Itafijp 965 

ring nor rays round his head, no light but a candle flaring on his be? 
nign features. Bring round him those childish heads, called cheru- 
bim, and all the interest escapes ; we regard the whole as a fiction 
of the pencil. *— ■; p.210, 211, 212. 

Every now and then there breaks out , a little pertness and 
flippancy. Thus, speaking of sortie of Piranesi’s restorations, 
he exclaims, 4 those lying engravers' 9 Siiius Italicus, whom 
he spares no opportunity of undervaluing, (as Mr Eustace 
scarcely gets through a page without quoting him), is, besides 
much other vituperation, freely called 4 the Ape of Virgil . 9 
All modern Latin poets are treated with a contempt very much 
exaggerated. Sannazaro and Vida are 4 mere versifiers , ’ whose 
language can be safe only while 4 it imitates, and pleases most 
4 when it betrays imitation ’ (303). In other words, their vers- 
es are little better than centos of the ancients ; and accordingly, 
they are brought afterwards (313) into the same sentence with 
the Capilupi of Mantua, professed cento-makers, after & fling 
at Martial for complimenting Silius Italicus, whom Mr Eorsyth 
ranks with the 4 clippers 9 of pure Virgilinn coin. The author 
now and then makes a word for his own use, as complicate , for 
complicated ; and, still less fortunately, 4 grandiosity , 5 (p. 313). 
With all these, and similar faults, we know not where we cau 
find so lively and faithful a description of Naples as the picture 
exhibited in the following passage. 

4 Naples, in its .interior, has no parallel on earth. The crowd of 
London is uniform and intelligible : it is a double line in quick mo- 
tion ; it is the crowd of business. The crowd of Naples consists in 
a general tide rolling up and down, and in the middle of this tide a 
hundred eddies of men. Here you are swept on by the current, there 
you are wheeled round by the vortex. A diversity of trades dispute" 
with you the streets. You are stopped by a carpenter’s bench, you 
are lost among shoemaker.** stools, you dash among the pots of a 
miccatovi- stall, and you escape behind a lazarone s night -basket. In 
this region of caricature every bargain sounds like a battle : the po- 
pular exhibitions are full of the grotesque ; some of their church- 
processions would frighten a war-horse. 

4 The mole seems on holidays an epitome of the town, and exin- 
bite most of its humours. Here stands a methodistical friar preach- 
ing to one row of lazaroni : there. Punch, the representative of the 
nation, holds forth to a crowd. Yonder, another orator recounts the 
miracles which he has performed with a sacred wax- work on which 
he rubs his agnuses and sells them, thus impregnated with grace, for 
a gram a piece. Beyond him are quacks in hussar uniform, exalt- 
ing their drugs and brandishing their sabres, as if not content with 
4 >ne mode of killing. The next professore is a, dog of knowledge, 
jgreat in his own little circle of admirers. Opposite to him stand two 
jocund old men, iu the centres pf an oyal group, singing alternately 



^Forsyth's Remarks oh Italy* JaW* 

to their cr&ty guitars. Further on is a motley audience seated on 
planks, and listening to a tragi -comic ^filosofo, who reads, sings, and 
gesticulates old Gothic tales of Orlando and his Paladins. 

( This is a theatre where any stranger may study for nothing the 
manners of the people. At the theatre of San Carlo, the mind, 
as. well as the man, is parted off from its fellows in an elbow-chair. 
There all is regulation, and silence : no applause, no censure, no ob- 
ject worthy of attention except the court and the fiddle. There the 
drama-—hut what is a drama in Naples without Punch ? or what is 
Punch out of Naples ? Here, in his native tongue, and among his 
own coantrymen, Punch is a person of real power : he dresses up 
and retails all the drolleries of the day : he is the channel and some- 
times the source of the passing opinions : he can inflict ridicule, he 
could gain a mob, or keq> the whole kingdom in good humour. Such 
was Dc Piori, the Aristophanes of his nation, immortal in buffoon- 
ery. 9 p. 293, 294. 

* From Naples Mr Forsyth made an excursion to Paestum; and 
then returned to Rome, and thence proceeded to Ancona. He 
afterwards visited Bologna and Venice, which, as he truly says, 
may be easily and completely delineated by books and pictures ; 
whereas all the arts of eloquence and design in vain attempt to 
convey an accurate idea of the Neapolitan scenery. We shall 
close our extracts with the following reflections, with which all 
travellers may sympathize. 

* My stay at Venice was short. We make the tour of Italy, as 
we make the circuit of a gallery. We set out determined to let no-' 
thing escape us unexamined, and thus we waste our attention, while 
it is fresh, on the first objects, which are not generally the best. On 
.advancing we are dazzled with excellence, and fatigued with admira- 
tion. We can take, however, hut a certain dose of this pleasure at 
a time; and at length, when the eye is saturated with picture, we be- 
gin to long for the conclusion, and we run through the last rooms 
with a glance. Such a feeling as this will account for the hvftried 
manner in which I passed through the few final towns ; and this feel- 
ing was enforced by the dread of an impending w r ar, the love of homei 
and the impatience of my companion. 

* Whoever goes abroad merely for observation, should avoid his 
own countrymen. If you travel in a party, your curiosity must adopt 
fheir paces : you must sometimes post through towns which are rich 
in art or antiquity, and stop where the Only attraction h good cheer. 
^jVhile you linger with fond delay among the select beauties of a gal- 
lery, your friends are advanced into other rooms, arid the keeper coin- 
plAiriS when you separate : you thus Jose the freedom of inspection, 
ybur ears ring with impatience, and often with absurdity. If you 
travel with one who is more ignorant of the language than yourself, 
yotji must stand fnterprd^er in All his bickerings with the natives * and 

to pass through the mouth 
J^|£$$efV than when he speaks for himself. * p. 37 1—373. 1 



iSH. Forsyth 1 *s Remarks on Italy* i 

After leaving Venice, the traveller ^ent up the Brenta to 
Padua, and then to Vicenza, Verona, Mantua, Milan and Tu- 
rin, where he arrived in May 1803 ; and had no sooner finish- 
ed the delightful tour on which we have been accompanying him, 
than he was arrested as a British subject, and sent into France* 
and there he has lingered out the interval in tedious, and, till 
very lately, almost hopeless captivity. He dates his work front 
Valenciennes, June 1812. 

Notwithstanding this example, we have no doubt that the ap- 
proaching peace will again let loose half the upper ranks in our 
•country to gaze in Paris, and ramble over France. How many 
are likely to remove w ith other views of a more permanent jrind, 
is a different and more interesting question. The temptations 
of cheap living and a fine climate, with taxes extremely light 
in comparison of those entailed upon us by the 1 deliverance of 
‘-Europe, 9 and which unaccountably never produced any return 
till the frost of 1813: — how far these inducements may be suffi- 
cient to overcome the natural love of home, and the fean of de- 
tention and conscription, is a subject too long and difficult to be 
taken up on the present occasion. The lower of the middling 
orders, and persons of manufacturing skill, are most likely to 
be led away by such view s ; but we are not without hopes of 
soon returning to this topic, and shall therefore not now antici- 
pate the discussion of it.