penalties, they were immediately carried to prifon, and expected to have been treated without mercy; but, luckily for the others, one of thefe heroes happened to be of the number. He immediately wrote to the Prince of Villa Franca, and made ufe of fuch powerful argu. ments in their favour, that they were all immediately fet at liberty.

This will ferve to fhew their confequence with the civil power: the other story will give you a ftrong idea of their barbarous fe. rocity, and the horrid mixture of ftubborn vice and virtue (if I may call it by that name) that seems to direct their actions. I fhould have mentioned, that they have a practice of borrowing money from the country people, who never dare refufe them; and if they promife to pay it, they have ever been found punctual and exact, both as to the time and the fum; and would much rather rob and murder an innocent person, than fail of payment at the day appointed: and this they have often been obLiged to do, only in order (as they fay) to fulfil their engagements, and to fave their honour.

It happened within this fortnight, that the brother of one of thefe heroic banditti having occafion for money, and not knowing how to procure it, determined to nake ufe of his brother's name and authority, an artifice which he thought could not easily be difco, vered; accordingly, he went to a country priest, and told him his brother had occafion for twenty ducats, which he defired he would inmediately lend him. The prieft ffured him that he had not fo large a fum, but that if he would

return in a few days it should be ready for him. The other replied, that he was afraid to return to his brother with this anfwer; and defired, that he would by all means take care to keep out of his way, at leaft till fuch time as he had pacified him; otherwife he could not be anfwerable for the confequences. As bad fortune would have it, the very next day the priest and the robber met in a narrow road; the former fell a-trembling as the latter approached, and at laft dropped on his knees to beg for mercy. The robber, aftonithed at this behaviour, defired to know the cause of it. The trembling prieft answered, "Ill dena.

ro.

The money, the moneybut fend your brother to-morrow, and you fhall have it. The haughty robber affured him, that he difdained taking money of a poor prieft; adding, that if any of his brothers had been low enough to make fuch a demand, he himself was ready to advance the fum. The priest acquainted him with the vilt he had received the preceding night from his brother, by his order; affuring him, that if he had been master of the fum, he fhould immediately have fupplied it.Well, fays the robber, I will now convince you whether my brother or I are most to be believed you fhall go with me to his house, which is but a few miles distant.

On their arrival before their door, the robber called on his brother; who, never fufpecting the difcovery, immediately came to the balcony; but on perceiving the priest, he began to make ex cufes for his conduct. The rob ber told him, there was no excuse to be made that he only defired

are detained by iron chains." Whither would they fly? Undoubtedly to their ancient republic.

Their good breeding runs into the stiffness of ceremony. They are offended at the leaft defect in decorum. There are certain eftablifhed laws in going into a coach, that fill puzzle me, and often make me ftudy very heartily which is my right and which is my left hand. No Florentine ever appears in an undress. The fidlers, the taylors, and the barbers, all wear fwords. The noblemen (la nobilità) fir not to the next door with out a numerous attendance of lac

queys, among whom is always a running footman. They are ftrangers to what the French call eafe; in which point that nation deviates into an extreme, particularly by avoiding cleanlinefs, and forgetting decorum.

The Florentines affect, and almost reach magnificence. Their equipages are fine, their coaches large, their horfes lean; their pa. laces truly fumptuous. They make few or no entertainments. Neither their difpofitions nor revenues will allow of hofpitality. They have card-affemblies, in which formality, rather than dignity, or gaiety, prefides. I am told they are fatirical. It is certain they are nice obfervers and neither defective in judgment or understanding; yet their public amufements and diverfions, especially thofe of the theatre, are the amufements and diverfions of children. The practice of religion is outwardly acted by their priests, and indeed by the laity, in the churches. Few traces of it (I fpeak not of the clergy) are perceptible in their conduct. Not half an hour ago, a folemn pro

ceffion paffed under our windows. The perfons who attended it fhewed by their behaviour their private opinion of the fcenery. No here. tics could have conducted themfelves in a more indecent manner. The customs and external forms of religion are continued; the reverence and devotion of it are negleted. Prudence (by an inviolable taciturnity on certain points) added to a moft conftant attendance at mafs, defend the Florentines from the tyranny of the inquifition; which exifts, but triumphs not, in this city.

How thall I fpell, how fhall I paint, how fhall I defcribe, the animal known by the title of a Chichibee? [Cicifbeo.] You will not find the word in any dictionary. The etymology is not as yet made known to me. It fo totally abrogates one of the chief characteristics of the Italians, Jealoufy, that, unlefs I had feen innumerable inftances of its power in that particular, fcarce your own teftimony could have found credit with me. The Chichibee is a man, with many of the privileges of a husband, and all the virtues of an eunuch. He is an appendix to matrimony. Within a week after her nuptials, a young lady makes choice of her Chichifee. From that moment the never appears in public with her husband, nor is ever imprudent enough to be feen without her Chichifee. He is her guardian, her friend, and her gentleman ufher. He attends her in a morning as foon as fhe is awake. He presents to her chocolate before the rifes.' He fets her flippers; and, as foor as his morning visit is over, he withdraws where he pleases. The lady admits him not to dinner.

The

the partial hand of the Frenchman, the Voltaire, is too perceptible. The outlines of the Abbé Choify please and instruct, but they are few and unconnected. I think I have gathered more of his true private character from the loofe, undefigning pen of his coufin-german, Mademoifeile de Montpenfier, than from any other writer. By her anecdotes I am induced to admire him amidst his family and courtiers as one of the finest and compleatest gentlemen of his time and nation. He was happy in his own difpofition and temper, and that happiness diffufed itself to all who were near him. His perfo. nal accomplishments were eminent and captivating. Let us look a little into his mind. His vanity was fecreted by his modefty. His profuleness was foftened into gere. rofity, not only by his manner of giving, but becaufe he openly che. rifhed, and unboundedly protected every art and science in the world. His infidelity as an husband is much palliated, when we confider the peevishness and fimplicity of his wife. His ignorance was covered by his prudence. Conscious of his own defects, he corrected

Except in his falfe notions of reli. gion, he was generous, compaffion ate, and humane. His talents, if not fhining, at leaft were ftrong and clear. His private conduct was always decent, often fplendid, never mean. During the favours of fortune, he indulged his vanity. During her frowns, he behaved himself with true philofophy. He died more heroically in his bed than he had ever appeared in his camp. Confider him in his regal fphere; though he was far from being a perfectly good prince, he was almoft as far from being a bad one. Nature formed him (as the has formed most men, to whom the gives paffions and abilities) a remarkable mixture of good and evil. The good part attended the man; the evil part, the monarch. His ambition was inexcufable, as it has occafioned most of the calamities, that have been fince felt in Europe.

Of Metaftafio; from Mr. Burney's Tour through Germany and the Netherlands, &c.

EFORE I had the honour of

tacitly lamenting his own want of erudition. His devotion degenerated into the too common extreme of bigotry; which never fails to produce the blindness of cruelty, and the deafnefs of oppreffion.

Metaftafio, I obtained, from undoubted authority, the following particulars relative to this great poet; whofe writings have perhaps more contributed to the refinement of vocal melody, and, confequently,

of