tirely to themselves; and may with reason boast, that where the nobles yielded, they made a stand; and, by their perseverance, saved from utter hopeless slavery, that country which their superiors were ready to betray. Even in the late invasion, they generously came forward, and offered their persons and lives to their sovereign; and finding neither chiefs to command, nor officers to lead them on, they reluctantly submitted to inaction, but with a surly silence and threatening aspect, that awed the invaders, and checked for once the insolence and rapacity of a French army. Such is their public spirit their private feelings have oftentimes been displayed with equal advantage.' II. p. 42-44.

He adds, that some Neapolitan writers assert that the Lazzaroni, properly so called, are the most laborious and disinterested part of the population,-attached to religion and order, simple and sincere in their manners, and faithful to their employers, rather than wrong whom, they would shed their blood. This eulogium they qualify, however, by confining it to the 'trueborn Neapolitan Lazzaroni,' as distinguished from a set of beggars who infest the churches and public places-for the most part foreigners, and who, being always ready to impose on travellers at the hotels, have brought disgrace on the regular Lazzaroni. It is a singular omission in our author to pass over, unnoticed, the celebrated miracle of the priests at Naples, (borrowed apparently from the Heathen miracle alluded to in Horace's journey), the liquefaction of St Januarius's blood. This skilful trick, which has been the means of making many a convert, and actually deceived Paschal, who, from thence, drew an argument in favour of the true religion, had ceased, we believe, to be much regarded by the Neapolitans themselves, for some time before the French put an end to it. But so manifest a piece of jugglery ought to have been noticed by Mr. Eustace; and, if the omission was intentional, it is almost the only specimen of want of candour exhibited in his work.

The travellers returned by their former route to Rome; and here Mr Eustace renews his observations upon the remains of antiquity, and on the character of the ancient and modern inhabitants-observations which would certainly have been more conveniently placed in the former part of his work. Indeed, there is nothing more defective in his book than the arrangement; and the consequence is, frequent repetition, and considerable indistinctness of statement. We shall not stop to extract any of his remarks during his second visit, but follow him to Florence, whither he proceeded next. Passing through Assisi, the birth-place of St Francis, he pauses to give an eulogium of that singular person, whom he ingeniously compares to Lycurgus. Indeed, we know about as much, in an authentic

form, of the one as of the other; and though there can be no doubt of the extensive effects produced by the Saint's preaching and other efforts, it is manifestly absurd to pretend that any reliance can be placed on the legendary and traditional accounts of his perfect purity and holiness. There is exactly the same evidence for the miracles of the age. We shall subjoin the passage; and premise this further remark, that if St Francis was right-if this sort of life be really the life enjoined by the Christian dispensation, then the divine law can only be fulfilled by the conversion of all mankind into hermits during one generation, and their utter extinction when that generation is gone.

A man who has imposed, upon so many thousands of voluntary disciples, laws far more severe than those of Lycurgus, and given to his laws a longer duration, as well as a far more extensive influence than that legislator, or indeed most others have been able to impart to their institutions, must certainly have been a very extraordinary person, and must have possessed means of persuasion derived either from his virtues or his accomplishments unusually efficacious. His birth and education were naturally calculated to confine him to mediocrity; but an ardent piety, and a disinterestedness that knew no bounds, soon raised him into notice, and made him an object of contempt to some, of admiration to many. The solemn determination, taken at the age of twenty-one, to practise strictly and literally the sublimest lessons of Christian self-denial, and the courage to support that resolution, without the least deviation, during a life of forty-six years, may be considered as proofs of most extraordinary energy and consistency of character. When to these qualities we add two others of a very different and almost opposite nature, the simplicity of a child, and a humility that almost seemed to border upon pusillanimity, we shall make the picture still more wonderful, without diminishing its resemblance. To renounce every species of property, every honourable distinction, every mark of respect from others, nay, even to stifle every emotion of self-complacency, every sentiment of self-applause, and consequently to extinguish every spark of self-love in his own bosom, and then to replace this active principle by a love of God and Man still more active and more efficacious, was the perfection to which this singular personage aspired, and which he appears in some measure to have attained. Hence his whole life was a series of generous sacrifices, patient sufferings, and above all, of acts of devotion ardent and almost impassioned. To the warmth of this sublime affection the Italian language owes two of its earliest poetical flights; which, as they show the mind and talents of the composer, as well as the language and versification of the age, I may insert elsewhere, especially as they are uncommon, or at least not likely to fall in the way of the greater part of my readers.

But the most singular part of the character of St Francis was,

that he could communicate the fire that glowed in his own bosom to his hearers, or rather to the spectators of his virtues, and, by his example more than by his words, prevail upon thousands of his contemporaries, and among them many of rank, talents, and education, to adopt the same most austere and laborious mode of living. The Spartan legislator is supposed to have given an astonishing proof of his influence and address, in prevailing upon his countrymen to adopt laws that imposed a few restraints, but proscribed no pleasures, and stifled no passions; and Cicero is said to have carried the powers of eloquence to the utmost pitch, when he engaged the Roman people to forego the advantages of the Agrarian law. What then must we think of the persuasive powers of St Francis, who triumphed over the most powerful passions that rage in the human breast, and induced so many myriads of disciples to renounce property, name, pleasure, nay, their very will itself, to follow him in the rugged path of self-denial and mortification? Either his talents, or his virtues, or both, must have been transcendant; and, without being his disciples, we may very safely consider him as a great and wonderful personage. St Francis was born about the year eleven hundred and eighty, and died about twelve hundred and twenty-five, having witnessed the rapid propagation of his order, which contained, previous to his death, more than fifty thousand persons.' II. p. 182-184

Mr Eustace's observations on Florence and Tuscany, commence with some very appropriate encomiums upon free governments; for, by republics and monarchies, which he contrasts to the great advantage of the former, we presume he means popular and absolute forms of government. He most justly remarks, in answer to the hackneyed theme of the crimes of republican states, that the crimes of despotism are far more black and numerous, while they are redeemed nullâ virtute— a vitiis. All the crimes of all the Grecian republics united, says he, would not equal the mass of guilt that might be collected from the reign of one Persian monarch,— -as all the murders perpetrated in the Italian commonwealths, when balanced against the bloody deeds of Philip II., or Henry VIII., would kick the beam. He adds some judicious observations upon the illustrious House of Medici, and their wisdom in remaining so long content with the glorious and sober distinction of first citizens in a free state;-and he then expresses the feelings of contempt which every one must cherish for Alexander di Medici, who took a foreign title of sovereignty, and prevailed over the liberties of his country. This introduces a remark on the dangers of having too much virtue and popularity on the throne; and our author concludes, in a strain truly alarming to the freedom of these realms, that it is advantageous to the cause

of liberty, that the chief magistrate should not be of a character too popular and engaging. Coupling this with the rule laid down at Naples for the dimensions of the Royal Intellect, we shall arrive at the true delineation or tea of a patriot king. He must neither be a wise nor a virtuous personage. On the contrary, if his talents are of the most ordmary description, his accomplishments base and grovelling, his manners, habits, and propensities disgusting in the eyes of his people, and his vices fitted to secure their hatred, then is the state safe. It is rather awful to reflect what risks the liberties of some countries have been running during the last half century: And yet, so perverse are the desires of men-we really believe there are millions who, from old habit, or some other strange delusion, would be very well pleased to run the same risks over again.

The accounts of our author's excursions in the delicious neighbourhood of Florence, are among the happiest parts of his descriptive performances. That of Vallombrosa is of course the best; and we regret that the length to which this article has already extended, prevents us from dwelling longer on these delightful scenes,-delightful in themselves, and rendered doubly interesting by the singular regard with which they were honoured by the illustrious Poet of Freedom, who is supposed from hence to have borrowed many of the features of his Paradise. We can only afford room for a single observation on Monasteries, which though very obvious, is yet striking, and as far as we know, original.

rate.

There is something extremely striking in the duration of these monastic establishments. Kingdoms and empires rise and fall around them-governments change-dynasties flourish and fademanners and dresses alter, and even languages corrupt and evapoEnter the gates of Camaldoli or Monte Cassino-the torrent of time stands still-you are transported back to the sixth or the tenth century-you see the manners and habits, and hear the language of those distant periods-you converse with another race of beings, unalterable in themselves though placed among mortals, as if appointed to observe and record the vicissitudes from which they are exempt. Hitherto these monuments of ancient times and past generations have been placed above the reach of that mortality, to which all the other works and institutions of man are subject: But is not the term of their existence at hand? or are they destined to survive the tempest that now scowls over Europe, and where it falls, levels all that is great and venerable in the dust?' II. p. 241, 242. In his account of Florence, Mr Eustace enlarges more upon the fine arts than in other parts of his work; and he by no beans overloads his descriptions of its churches. He gives but

a meagre notice of the present state of literature in that once celebrated seat of letters; but having remarked the guttural, or harsh pronunciation of the language, he is led to insert a variety of remarks on the antient dialects of Italy, and to give some curious specimens of them from different authorities, collected by Lanzi. This forms a very interesting chapter, and well worthy the attention of the speculative grammarian. From Florence his route lay through Lucca, Pisa, and Leghorn to Genoa; from whence he went through Pavia to Milan. Upon each of these celebrated cities he bestows the portion of attention which they so well merit; and, after devoting two chapters to the Lakes, he concludes his narrative with Turin and the Alpine passage of Mount Cennes. Over this part of his progress we do not even pretend to follow him; but we can refer the reader to it without any fear of his being disappointed in the search both of entertainment and instruction.

The work closes with an elaborate, or we ought perhaps rather to say, a long Dissertation, extending to about 180 pages, on Italy in general, and the character of the Italians; and an appendix of about forty pages, but extremely interesting, containing, indeed, some of the most curious parts of the whole work, on the Papal government and its interior administration. The Dissertation, from its plan, necessarily comprehends a great deal of what should have been delivered under the different heads as they successively came into view, and not a little of what had actually been so given. Many general, or rather declamatory passages, are little more than repetitions, in somewhat altered words, of remarks previously introduced, when the objects which seem to have suggested them were described in their proper places; and, with the title and pretensions of a treatise, the discourse has not the cardinal qualities of system and method. But its chief defect as a disquisition upon matters of fact, and that which takes away much of its weight as a guide and authority, is, that it espouses a side throughout,-and almost avowedly assumes the form of a defence of the Italians, and a praise of their country, and its institutions. The author seems to consider himself as ranged on one side of a controversy, and proposes for his object to praise and magnify Italy, and to cry down France. Much of what he says is undoubtedly true; and no one can blame his partialities, who reflects on the warmth of his religious and classical enthusiasm. Nor is it very inexcusable in an Englishman, to lean at all times, and on every subject, against the French and their extravagant pretensions. But the question, after all, is not one of feeling; and, after exhausting all those topics of excuse, we shall be forced to admit, that the Dissertation fails in its object, and is, as a piece of reasoning or statement, materi