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knew no mortal there, and as it is no easy matter to get admission into any Italian house, without very particular recommendations, we could see no company but in public places; and there are none in that city but the churches. We saw, therefore, churches, palaces, and pictures from morning to night; and the 15th of this month set out for Florence, and began to cross the Appennine mountains; we travelled among and upon them all that day, and, as it was but indifferent weather, were commonly in the middle of thick clouds, that utterly deprived us of a sight of their beauties : for this vast chain of hills has its beauties, and all the vallies are cultivated ; even the mountains themselves are many of them so within a little of their very tops. They are not so horrid as the Alps, though pretty near as high; and the whole road is admirably well kept, and paved throughout, which is a length of fourscore miles, and more: we left the Pope's dominions, and lay that night in those of the Grand Duke at Fiorenzuola; a paltry little town, at the foot of mount Giogo, which is the highest of them all. Next morning we went up it; the post-house is upon its very top, and usually involved in clouds, or half buried in the

Indeed there was none of the last at the time we were there, but it was still a dismal habitation. The descent is most excessively steep, and the turnings very short and frequent; however, we performed it without any danger, and in coming down could dimly discover Florence, and the beautiful plain about it, through the mists; but enough to convince us, it must be one of the noblest prospects upon earth in summer. That afternoon we got thither; and Mr. Mann,* the resident, had sent his servant to meet us at the gates, and conduct us to his house. He is the best and most obliging person in the world. The next night we were introduced at the Prince of Craon's assembly (he has the chief power here in the Grand Duke's absence). The Princess, and he, were extremely civil to the name of Walpole, so we were asked to stay supper, which is as much as to say, you may come and sup here whenever you please ; for after the first invitation this is always understood. We have also been at the Countess Suarez's, a favourite of the late Duke, and one that gives the first movement to every thing gay that is going forward here. The news is every day expected from Vienna, of the Great Dutchess's delivery; if it be a boy, here will be all sorts of balls, masquerades, operas, and illuminations; if not, we must wait for the carnival, when all those things come of course. In the mean time it is impossible to want entertainment: the famous gallery, alone, is an amusement for months; we commonly pass two or three hours every morning in it, and one has perfect leisure to consider all its beauties. You know it contains many hundred antique statues, such as the whole world cannot match, besides the vast collection of paintings, medals, and precious stones, such as no other prince was ever master of; in short, all that the rich and powerful house of Medicis has in so many years got together.† And besides this city abounds with so many palaces and churches, that you can hardly place yourself any where without having some fine one in view, or at least some statue or fountain, magnificently adorned; these, undoubtedly, are far more numerous than Genoa can pretend to; yet, in its general appearance, I cannot think that Florence equals it in beauty. Mr. Walpole is just come from being presented to the Electress Palatine Dowager; she is a sister of the late Great Duke's; a stately old lady, that never goes out but to church, and then she has guards, and eight horses to her coach. She received him with much ceremony, standing under a huge black canopy, and, after a few minutes talking, she assured him of her good will, and dismissed him: she never sees any body but thus in form; and so she passes her life,* poor woman !


* Now Sir Horace Mann, and envoy extraordinary at the same court.

+ He catalogued and made occasional short remarks on the pictures, &c. which he saw here, as well as at other places, many of which are in my possession, but it would have swelled this work too much if I had inserted them.



Florence, Jan. 15, 1740.

I THINK I have not yet told you how we left that charming place Genoa : how we crossed a mountain, all of green marble, called Buchetto: how we came to Tortona, and waded through the mud to come to Castel St. Giovanni, and there eat mustard and sugar with a dish of crows gizzards :

Persons of very high rank, and withal very good sense, will only feel the. pathos of this exclamation.

secondly, how we passed the famous plains

Quà Trebie glaucas salices intersecat undâ,

Arvaque Romanis nobilitata malis.
Visus adhuc amnis veteri de clade rubere,

Et suspirantes ducere mæstus aquas ;
Maurorumque ala, et nigræ increbrescere turmæ,

Et pulsa Ausonidum ripa sonare fuga.


Nor, thirdly, how we passed through Piacenza, Parma, Modena, entered the territories of the Pope; stayed twelve days at Bologna; crossed the Appennines, and afterwards arrived at Florence. None of these things have I told you, nor do I intend to tell you, till you ask me some questions concerning them. No not even of Florence itself, except that it is as fine as possible, and has every thing in it that can bless the eyes. But, before I enter into particulars, you must make your peace both with me and the Venus de Medicis, who, let me tell you, is highly and justly offended at you for not inquiring long before this, concerning her symmetry and proportions.




Ergo desidiæ videor tibi crimine dignus ;

Et meritò : victas do tibi sponte manus.
Arguor et veteres nimium contemnere Musas,

Irata et nobis est Medicæa Venus.

* The letter which accompanied this little elegy is not extant. Probably it was only inclosed in one to Mr. Walpole.

Mene igitur statuas et inania saxa vereri !

Stultule! marmoreâ quid mihi cum Venere ? Hic veræ, hìc vivæ, Veneres, et mille per urbem,

Quarum nulla queat non placuisse Jovi. Cedite Romanæ formosæ et cedite Graiæ,

Sintque oblita Helenæ nomen et Hermionæ ! Et, quascunque refert ætas vetus, Heroinæ :

Unus honor nostris jam venet Angliasin.
Oh quales vultus, Oh quantum numen ocellis !

I nunc et Tuscas improbe confer opes.
Ne tamen hæc obtusa nimis præcordia credas,

Neu me adeo nulla Pallade progenitum :
Testor Pieridumque umbras et flumina Pindi

Me quoque Calliopes semper amasse choros ; Et dudum Ausonias urbes, et visere Graias

Cura est, ingenio si licet ire meo: Sive est Phidiacum marmor, seu Mentoris æra,

Seu paries Coo nobilis e calamo ; Nec minus artificum magna argumenta recentûm

Romanique decus nominis et Veneti: Quà Furor et Mavors et sævo in Marmore vultus,

Quaque et formoso mollior ære Venus. Quàque loquax spirat fucus, vivique labores,

Et quicquid calamo dulciùs ausa manus : Hic nemora, et sola mærens Melibæus in umbrâ,

Lymphaque muscoso prosiliens lapide; Illic majus opus, faciesque in pariete major

Exurgens, Divûm et numina Coelicolùm ; O vos fælices, quibus hæc cognoscere fas est,

Et totâ Italiâ, qua patet usque, frui! Nulla dies vobis eat injucunda, nec usquam

Noritis quid sit tempora amara pati.

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