Journey from Turin to Bologna—Asti—Schiller and Alfieri—Italian
cuisÍne—The vetturini—Marengo—Piacenza—The Trebbia—Parma—The
Empress Maria Louisa—Modena—Bologna—The University—The Marescalchi
Gallery—Character of the Bolognese.

August —— 1816

'Twas on a fine morning the 16th August that I took my departure from Turin with a vetturino bound to Bologna. I agreed to pay him sixty francs for my place in the coach, supper and bed. When this stipulation for supper and bed is included in the price fixed for your place with the vetturino, you are said to be spesato, and then you have nothing extra to pay for but your breakfast. There were two other travellers in the vettura, both Frenchmen; the one about forty years of age was a Captain of cavalry en retraite, married to a Hungarian lady and settled at Florence, to which place he was returning; the other, a young man of very agreeable manners, settled likewise at Florence, as chief of a manufactory there, returning from Lyons, his native city, whither he had been to see his relations. I never in my life met with two characters so diametrically opposite. The Captain was quite a bourru in his manners, yet he had a sort of dry, sarcastic, satirical humour that was very diverting to those who escaped his lash. Whether he really felt the sentiments he professed, or whether he assumed them for the purpose of chiming in with the times, I cannot say, but he said he rejoiced at the fall of Napoleon. My other companion, however, expressed great regret as his downfall, not so much from a regard for the person of Napoleon, as for the concomitant degradation and conquest of his country, and he spoke of the affairs of France with a great deal of feeling and patriotism.

The Captain seemed to have little or no feeling for anybody but himself; indeed, he laughed at all sentiment and said he did not believe in virtue or disinterestedness. When, among other topics of conversation, the loss the French Army sustained at Waterloo was brought on the tapis, he said, "Eh bien! qu 'importe? dans une seule nuit À Paris on en fabriquera assez pour les remplacer!" A similar sentiment has been attributed to the great CondÉ.[78] We had a variety of amusing arguments and disputes on the road; the Captain railed at merchants, and said that he did not believe that honor or virtue existed among mercantile people (no compliment, by the bye, to the young fabricant, who bore it, however, with great good humour, contenting himself with now and then giving a few slaps at the military for their rapacity, which mercantile people on the Continent have now and then felt, before the French Revolution, as well as after). The whole road from Turin to Alexandria della Paglia is a fine broad chausÉe. The first day's journey brought us to Asti. A rich plain on each side of the road, the horizon on our right bounded by the Appennines, on our left by the Alps, both diverging, formed the landscape. Asti is an ancient, well and solidly built city, but rather gloomy in its appearance. It is remarkable for being the birthplace of Vittorio Alfieri, the celebrated tragic poet, who has excelled all other dramatic poets in the general dÉnouement of his pieces, except, perhaps, Voltaire alone. I do not speak of Alfleri so much as a poet as a dramaturgus. I may be mistaken, and it is, perhaps, presumptuous in me to attempt to judge, but it has always appeared to me that Voltaire and Alfieri have managed dramatic effect and the intrigue and catastrophe of their tragedies better than any other authors. Shakespeare, God as he is in genius, is in this particular very deficient. Schiller, too, the greatest modern poetic genius perhaps and the Shakespeare of Germany, has here failed also, and nothing can be more correct than the estimate of Alfieri made by Forsyth[79] when, after speaking of his defects, he says: "Yet where lives the tragic poet equal to Alfieri? Schiller (then living also) may perhaps excel him in those peals of terror which flash thro' his gloomy and tempestuous scene, but he is far inferior in the mechanism of his drama."

To return to my first day's journey from Turin. It was a very long day's work, and we did not arrive at Asti till very late, after having performed the last hour, half in the dark, on a road which is by no means in good repute. The character of the lower class of Piedmontese is not good. They are ferocious, vindictive and great marauders. They make excellent soldiers during war and they not unfrequently, on being disbanded after peace, by way of keeping their hand in practise and of having the image of war before their eyes, ease the traveller of his coin and sometimes of his life. Our conversation partook of these reminiscences, and during the latter part of our journey turned entirely on bandits "force and guile," so that we were quite rejoiced at seeing the smoke and light of the town of Asti and hearing the dogs bark, which reminded me of Ariosto's lines:

Non molto va che dalle vie supreme
De' tetti uscir vede il vapor del fuoco
Sente cani abbajar, muggire armento,
Viene alla villa, e piglia alloggiamenti.[80]

Nor far the warrior had pursued his best,
Ere, eddying from a roof, he saw the smoke,
Heard noise of dog and kine, a farm espied,
And thitherward in quest of lodging hied.

—Trans. W.S. ROSE.

We met on alighting at the door of a large spacious inn, two ladies who had very much the appearance of the two damsels at the inn where Don Quixote alighted and received his order of knighthood; but, in spite of their amorous glances and a decided leer of invitation, I had like Sacripante's steed more need of "riposo e d'esca che di nuova giostra." The usual Italian supper was put before us, and very good it was, viz., Imprimis: A minestra (soup), generally made of beef or veal with vermicelli or macaroni in it and its never failing accompaniment in Italy, grated Parmesan cheese. Then a lesso (bouilli) of beef, veal or mutton, or all three; next an umido (fricassÉe) of cocks' combs and livers, a favourite Italian dish; then a frittura of chickens' livers, fish or vegetables fried. Then an umido or ragout of veal, fish with sauce; and lastly, an arrosto (roast) of fowls, veal, game, or all three. The arrosto is generally very dry and done to cinders almost. Vegetables are served up With the umidi, but plain boiled, leaving it optional to you to use melted butter or oil with them. A salad is a constant concomitant of the arrosto. A desert or fruit concludes the repast. Wine is drank at discretion. The wine of Lombardy is light and not ill flavored; it is far weaker than any wine I know of, but it has an excellent quality, that of facilitating digestion. A cup of strong coffee is generally made for you in the morning, for which you pay three or four soldi (sous), and in giving five or six soldi to the waiter, all your expenses are paid supposing you are spesato, i.e., that the vetturino pays for your supper and bed; if not, your charges are left to the conscience of the aubergiste, which in Italy is in general of prodigious width. I therefore advise every traveller who goes with a vetturino to be a spesato, otherwise he will have to pay four or five times as much and not be a whit better regaled. The vetturini generally pay from three to three and a half francs for the supper and bed of their passengers. As the vetturini invariably make a halt of an hour and half or two hours at mid-day in some town or village, this halt enables you to take your dÉjeuner À la fourchette, which you pay for yourself, unless you stipulate for the payment of that also with the vetturino by paying something more, say one a half franc per diem for that. In this part, and indeed in the whole of the north of Italy not a female servant is to be seen at the inns and men make the beds. It is otherwise, I understand, in Tuscany.

The whole appearance of the country from Asti to Alexandria presents an immense plain extremely fertile, but the crops of corn being off the ground, the landscape would not be pleasing to the eye, were it not relieved by the frequency of mulberry trees and the vines hung in festoons from tree to tree. The villages and farmhouses on this road are extremely solid and well built. We arrived at Alexandria about twelve o'clock, and after breakfast I hired a horse to visit the field of battle of Marengo, which is in the neighbourhood of this city, Marengo itself being a village five miles distant from Alexandria. Arrived on the plain, I was conducted to the spot where the first Consul stood at the time that he perceived the approach of Desaix's division. I figured to myself the first Consul on his white charger, halting his army, then in some confusion, riding along the line exposed to a heavy fire from the Austrians, who cannonaded the whole length of the line; aides-de-camp and orderlies falling around him, himself calm and collected, "spying 'vantage," and observing that the Austrian deployment was too extended, and their centre thereby weakened, suddenly profiting of this circumstance to order Desaix's division to advance and lead the charge which decided the victory on that memorable day, which, according to Mascheroni:

splende
Nell' abisso de' secoli, qual Sole.

The whole field of battle is an extensive plain, with but few trees, and to use Campbell's lines:

every turf beneath the feet
Marks out a soldier's sepulchre.

The Column, erected to commemorate this glorious victory, has been thrown down by order of the Austrian government—a poor piece of puerile spite, but worthy of legitimacy. Alexandria is, or rather was, for the fortifications no longer exist, more remarkable for being an important military post than for the beauty of the city itself. There is, however, a fine and spacious Place, which serves as a parade for the garrison, and being planted with trees by the French when they held it, forms an agreeable promenade. The fortifications were blown up by the Austrians before the place was given over to the Sardinian authorities, a flagrant breach of faith and contract, since by the treaty of 1814 they were bound to give up all the fortified places that were restored or ceded to the King of Sardinia in the same state in which they were found when the French evacuated them, and the Austrians took possession provisorily. The French regarding (and with reason) this fortress as the key of Lombardy always kept the fortifications in good repair and well provided with cannon. But the Austrian government, knowing itself to be unpopular in Italy and trembling for the safety of her dominions, being always fearful that the Piedmontese Government might one day be induced to favour an insurrectionary or national movement in the north of Italy, determined, finding that it could not keep the fortress for itself, which it strove hard to do under divers pretexts, to render it of as little use as they possibly could do to the King of Sardinia; so they blew up the fortifications and carried off the cannon, leaving the King without a single fortified place in the whole of his Italian dominions to defend himself, in case of attack, against an Austrian invasion.

On the morning of the 15th August we passed thro' Tortona, now no longer a fortress of consequence. All this country may be considered as classic ground, immortalized by the campaigns of Napoleon, when commander in chief of the army of the French Republic in Italy, a far greater and more illustrious rÔle than when he assumed the Imperial bauble and condescended to mix with the vulgar herd of Kings.

We arrived at Voghera to breakfast and at Casteggio at night. The country is much the same as that which we have already passed thro', being a plain, with a rich alluvial soil, mulberry trees and a number of solidly built stone farmhouses. The next morning at eleven o'clock we arrived at Piacenza on the Po, and were detained a quarter of an hour at the Douane of Her Majesty the Archduchess, as Maria Louisa, the present Duchess of Parma, is stiled, we being now arrived in her dominions. We drove to the HÔtel di San Marco, which is close to the Piazza Grande, and alighted there. On the Piazza stands the HÔtel de Ville, and in front of it are two equestrian statues in bronze of the Princes Farnesi; the statues, however, of the riders appear much too small in proportion with the horses, and they resemble two little boys mounted on Lincolnshire carthorses.

I did not visit the churches and palaces in this city from not having time and, besides, I did not feel myself inclined or bound (as some travellers think themselves) to visit every church and every town in Italy. I really believe the ciceroni think that we Ultramontani live in mud hovels in our own country, and that we have never seen a stone edifice, till our arrival in Italy, for every town house which is not a shop is termed a palazzo, and they would conduct you to see all of them if you would be guided by them. I had an opportunity, during the two hours we halted here, of walking over the greater part of the city, after a hasty breakfast. Piacenza is a large handsome city; among the females that I saw in the streets the Spanish costume seems very prevalent, no doubt from being so long governed by a Spanish family.

On leaving Piacenza we passed thro' a rich meadow country and met with an immense quantity of cattle grazing. The road is a fine broad chaussÉe considerably elevated above the level of the fields and is lined with poplars. Where this land is not in pasture, cornfields and mulberry trees, with vines in festoons, vary the landscape, which is additionally enlivened by frequent maisons de plaisance and excellently built farmhouses. We passed thro' Firenzuola, a long well-built village, or rather bourg, and we brought to the night at Borgo San Donino. At this place I found the first bad inn I have met with in Italy, that is, the house, tho' large, was so out of repair as to be almost a masure; we however met with tolerably good fare for supper. We fell in with a traveller at Borgo San Donino, who related to us an account of an extraordinary robbery that had been committed a few months before near this place, in which the then host was implicated, or rather was the author and planner of the robbery. It happened as follows. A Swiss merchant, one of those men who cannot keep their own counsel, a bavard in short, was travelling from Milan to Bologna with his cabriolet, horse and a large portmanteau. He put up at this inn. At supper he entered into conversation with mine host, and asked if there was any danger of robbers on the road, for that he should be sorry (he said) to fall into their hands, inasmuch as he had with him in his portmanteau 24,000 franks in gold and several valuable articles of jewellery. Mine host assured him that there was not the slightest danger. The merchant went to bed, directing that he should be awakened at daybreak in order to proceed on his journey. Mine host, however, took care to have him called full an hour and half before daybreak, assuring him that light would soon dawn. The merchant set out, but he had hardly journeyed two miles when a shot from behind a hedge by the road side brought his horse to the ground. Four men in masks rushed up, seized him and bound him to a tree; they then rifled his portmanteau, took out his money and jewels and wished him good morning.

Before we arrived at Borgo San Donino we crossed the Trebbia, one of the many tributary streams of the Po, and which is famous for two celebrated battles, one in ancient, the other in modern tunes (and probably many others which I do not recollect); but here it was that Hannibal gained his second victory over the Romans; and here, in 1799, the Russians under Souvoroff defeated the French under Macdonald after an obstinate and sanguinary conflict; but they could not prevent Macdonald from effecting his junction with Massena, to hinder which was Souvoroff's object. In fact, in this country, to what reflections doth every spot of ground we pass, over, give rise! Every field, every river has been the theatre of some battle or other memorable event either in ancient or modern times.

Quis gurges aut quae flumina lugubris Ignara belli?[81]

We started from Borgo San Donino next morning; about ten miles further on the right hand side of the road stands an ancient Gothic fortress called Castel Guelfo. Between this place and Parma there is a very troublesome river to pass called the Taro, which at times is nearly dry and at other times, so deep as to render it hazardous for a carriage to pass, and it is at all times requisite to send on a man to ford and sound it before a carriage passes. This river fills a variety of separate beds, as it meanders very much, and it extends to such a breadth in its dÉbordements, as to render it impossible to construct a bridge long enough to be of any use.

This, however, being the dry season, we passed it without difficulty. Two or three other streams on this route, seguaci del Po, are crossed in the same manner.

The road to Parma, after passing the Taro, lies nearly in a right line and is bordered with poplars. If I am not mistaken, it was somewhere in this neighbourhood that the Carthaginians under Hannibal suffered a great loss in elephants, who died from cold, being incamped during the winter. I am told there is not a colder country in Europe than Lombardy during the winter season, which arises no doubt from its vicinity to the Alps.

Opulence seems to prevail in all the villages in the vicinity of Parma, and an immense quantity of cattle is seen grazing in the meadows on each side of the road. The female peasantry wear the Spanish costume and are remarkably well dressed.

We arrived at Parma at twelve o'clock and stopped there three hours.

PARMA.

After a hasty breakfast, Mr G— and myself sallied forth to see what was possible during the time we stopped in this city, leaving the Captain, who refused to accompany us, to smoke his pipe. This city is very large and there is a very fine Piazza. The streets are broad, the buildings handsome and imposing, and there is a general appearance of opulence. We first proceeded to visit the celebrated amphitheatre, called l'Amfiteatro Farnese in honour of the former sovereigns of the Duchy. It is a vast building and unites the conveniences both of the ancient and modern theatres. It has a roof like a modern theatre, and the seats in the parterre are arranged like the seats in an ancient Greek theatre. Above this are what we should call boxes, and above them again what we usually term a gallery. A vast and deep arena lies between the parterre and the orchestra and fills up the space between the audience and the proscenium. It is admirably adapted both for spectators and hearers; when a tragedy, comedy or opera is acted, a scaffolding is erected and seats placed in the arena. At other times the arena is made use of for equestrian exercises and chariot races in the style of the ancients, combats with wild beasts, etc., or it may be filled with water for the representation of naval fights (naumachia); in this case you have a vast oval lake between the spectators and the stage. It is a great pity that this superb and interesting building is not kept in good repair; the fact is it is seldom or ever made use of except on very particular occasions: it is almost useless in a place like Parma, "so fallen from its high estate," but were such an amphitheatre in Paris, London, or any great city, it might be used for all kinds of spectacles and amusements. A small theatre from the design of Bernino stands close to this amphitheatre, and is built in a light tasteful manner. If fresh painted and lighted up it would make a very brilliant appearance. This may be considered as the Court theatre. At a short distance from the theatres is the Museum of Parma, in which there is a well chosen gallery of pictures. Among the most striking pictures of the old school is without doubt that of St JerÔme by Correggio; but I was full as much, dare I be so heretical as to say more pleased, with the productions of the modern school of Parma. A distribution of prizes had lately been made by the Empress Maria Louisa, and there were many paintings, models of sculpture and architectural designs, that did infinite credit to the young artists. I remarked one painting in particular which is worthy of a Fuseli. It represented the battle of the river God Scamander with Achilles. The subjects of most of the paintings I saw here were taken from the mythology or from ancient and modern history; and this is perhaps the reason that they pleased me more than those of the ancient masters. Why in the name of the [Greek: to kalon] did these painters confine themselves so much to Madonnas, Crucifixions, and Martyrdoms, when their own poets, Ariosto and Tasso, present so many subjects infinitely more pleasing? Then, again, in many of these crucifixions and martyrdoms, the gross anachronisms, such as introducing monks and soldiers with match-locks and women in Gothic costume at the crucifixion, totally destroy the seriousness and interest of the subject by annihilating all illusion and exciting risibility.

Parma will ever be renowned in history as the birthplace of Caius Cassius, the Mend and colleague of Brutus.

The Empress Maria Louisa lives here in the Ducal Palace, which is a spacious but ornamental edifice. She lives, 'tis said, without any ostentation. Out of her own states, her presence in Italy would be attended with unpleasant consequences to the powers that be, on account of the attachment borne to Napoleon by all classes of society; and it is on this account that on her last visit to Bologna she received an intimation from the papal authorities to quit the Roman territory in twenty-four hours. We next passed thro' St Hilario and Reggio and brought to the evening at the village of Rubbiera. At St Hilario is the entrance into the Duke of Modena's territory, and here we underwent again &n examination of trunks, as we did both on entering and leaving the territory of Maria Louisa.

Reggio is a large walled city, but I had only time to visit the Cathedral and to remark therein a fine picture of the Virgin and the Chapel called "Capella della Morte." Reggio pretends to the honour of having given birth to the Divine Ariosto:

Quel grande che cantÒ l'armi e gli amorl,

as Guarini describes him, I believe. The face of the country from Parma to Reggio is exactly the same as what we have passed thro' already.

The next day (20 August) we passed thro' Modena, where we stopped to breakfast and refresh horses. It is a large and handsome city, the Ducal Palace is striking and in the Cathedral is presented the famous bucket which gave rise to the poem of Tassoni called La Secchia rapita. An air of opulence and grandeur seems to prevail in Modena.

At Samoggia we entered the Papal territory and again underwent a search of trunks. Within three miles of Bologna a number of villas and several tanneries, which send forth a most intolerable odour, announce the approach to that celebrated and venerable city. On the left hand side, before entering the town, is a superb portico with arcades, about one and a half miles in length, which leads from the city to the church of San Luca. On the right are the Appennines, towering gradually above you. Bologna lies at the foot of these mountains on the eastern side and here the plain ends for those who are bound to Florence, which lies on the western side of the vast ridge which divides Italy. We arrived at Bologna at half-past seven in the evening, and here we intend to repose a day or two; I shall then cross the Appennines for the first time in my life. A reinforcement of mules or oxen is required for every carriage; from the ascent the whole way you can travel, I understand, very little quicker en poste than with a vetturino. We are lodged at Bologna in a very comfortable inn called Locanda d'Inghilterra.

BOLOGNA, 22d August.

The great popularity of Bologna, which is a very large and handsomely built city, lies in the colonnaded porticos and arcades on each side of the streets throughout the whole city. These arcades are mightily convenient against sun and rain, and contradict the assertion of Rousseau, who asserted that England was the only country in the world where the safety of foot passengers is consulted, whereas here in Bologna not only are trottoirs broader than those of London in general, but you are effectually protected against sun and rain, and are not obliged to carry an umbrella about with you perpetually as in London. This arcade system, is, however, rather a take off from the beauty of the city, and gives it a gloomy heavy appearance, which is not diminished by the sight of friars and mendicants with which this place swarms, and announce to you that you are in the holy land. At Bologna it is necessary to have a sharp eye on your baggage, on account of the crowds of ragged fainÉans that surround your carriage while it is unloading.

The first thing that the ciceroni generally take you to see in Italy are the churches, and mine would not probably have spared me one, but I was more anxious to see the University. I however allowed him to lead me into two of the principal churches, viz., the Duomo or Cathedral, and the church of San Petronio, both magnificent Gothic temples and worth the attention of the traveller. On the Piazza del Gigante is a fine bronze statue of Neptune. The Piazza takes its name from this statue, as at one time in Italy, after the introduction of Christianity and when the ancient mythology was totally forgotten, the statues of the Gods were called Giants or named after Devils and their prototypes believed to be such.

In the Museum at the University is an admirable collection of fossils, minerals, and machines in every branch of science. There are some excellent pictures also; the University of Bologna was, you know, at all times famous and its celebrity, is not at all diminished, for I believe Bologna boasts more scientific men, and particularly in the sciences positives, than any other city in Italy.

In the Palazzo pubblico (HÔtel de Ville) is a Christ and a Samson by Guido Reni; but what pleased me most in the way of painting was the collection in the gallery of Count Marescalchi. The Count has been at great pains to form it and has shown great taste and discernment. It is a small but unique collection. Here is to be seen a head of Christ, the colouring of which is so brilliant as to illuminate the room in which it is appended, when the shutters are closed, and in the absence of all other light except what appears thro' the crevices of the window shutters. This head, however, does not seem characteristic of Christ; it wants the gravity, the soft melancholy and unassuming meekness of the great Reformer: in short, from the vivid fire of the eyes and the too great self-complacency of the countenance, it gave me rather the idea

Del biondo Dio che in Tessalia si adorÁ.

I passed two hours in this cabinet. I next repaired to the centre of the city with the intention of ascending one at least of the two square towers or campanili which stand close together, one of which is strait, the other a leaning one. Garisendi is the name of the leaning tower, and it forms a parallelipipedon of 140 feet in height and about twenty feet in breath and length. It leans so much as to form an angle of seventy-five degrees with the ground on which it stands. The other tower, the strait one, is called Asinelli and is a parallelipipedon of 310 feet in height and about twenty-five feet in length and breadth. I ascended the leaning tower, but I found the fatigue so great that I was scarcely repaid by the fine view of the surrounding country, which presents on one side an immense plain covered with towns, villages and villas, and on the other the Appennines towering one above another. When on the top of Garisendi, Asinelli appears to be four times higher than its neighbour, and the bare aspect of its enormous height deterred me from even making the attempt of ascending it. When viewed or rather looked down upon from Garisendi, Bologna, from its being of an elliptical form and surrounded by a wall and from having these two enormous towers in the centre, resembles a boat with masts.

From the great celebrity of its University and the eminent men it has produced, Bologna is considered as the most litterary city of Italy. Galvani was born in Bologna and studied at this University, and among the modern prodigies is a young lady who is professor of Greek and who is by all accounts the most amiable Bas bleu that ever existed.[82] The Bolognese are a remarkably fine, intelligent and robust race of people, and are renowned for their republican spirit, and the energy with which they at all times resisted the encroachments of the Holy See. Bologna was at one time a Republic, and on their coins is the word Libertas. The Bolognese never liked the Papal government and were much exasperated at returning under the domination of the Holy Father. In the time of Napoleon, Bologna formed part of the Regno d'ltalia and partook of all its advantages. Napoleon is much regretted by them; and so impatiently did the inhabitants bear the change, on the dismemberment of the kingdom of Italy, and their transfer to the pontifical sceptre, that on Murat's entry in their city in 1815 the students and other young men of the town flew to arms and in a few hours organised three battalions. Had the other cities shown equal energy and republican spirit, the revolution would have been completed and Italy free; but the fact is that the Italians in general, tho' discontented, had no very high opinion of Murat's talents as a political character, and he besides committed a great fault in not entering Rome on his march and revolutionising it. Murat, like most men, was ruined by half-measures. The last tune that Maria Louisa was here the people surrounded the inn where she resided and hailed her with cries of Viva I'Imperatrice! The Pope's legate in consequence intimated to her the expediency of her immediate departure from the city, with a request that she would not repeat her visit. Bologna is considered by the Ultras, Obscuranten, and Éteignoirs as the focus and headquarters of Carbonarism.

In the evening I visited the theatre built by Bibbiena and had the pleasure of hearing for the first time an Italian tragedy, which, however, are now rarely represented and scarcely ever well acted. This night's performance formed an exception and was satisfactory. The piece was Romeo and Giulietta. The actress who did the part of Giulietta performed it with great effect, particularly in the tomb scene. In this scene she reminded me forcibly of our own excellent actress, Miss O'Neill. This was the only part of the play that had any resemblance to the tragedy of Shakespeare. All the rest was on the French model. I saw a number of beautiful women in the boxes. The Bolognese women are remarkable for their fine complexions; those that I saw were much inclined to embonpoint.

[79] And also to Napoleon, after the battle at Eylau.—ED.

[80] Joseph Forsyth (1763-1815), author of Remarks on antiquities, arts and letters in Italy, London, 1813.—ED.

[81] Horace, Carm., II, I, 33.—ED.

[82] The young woman in question was Clotilda Tambroni (1768-1818). She taught Greek at the University of Bologna and was in correspondence with the great French scholar Ansse de Villoison.—ED.