in use, and thus gave to music, as writing does to language, a form and body, which may preserve and convey its accents down to the latest posterity.

While at Arezzo, the traveller may indulge himself in a pleasant and truly classical excursion to explore the site of the younger Pliny's Tuscan villa, so minutely and so beautifully described in one of his epistles*. It stood near Tifernum, now Citta di Castello, and is supposed by Cluverius to have grown into a large town called Borgo di San Sepolcro. This may have been its situation; yet I should be inclined from Pliny's expressions, "Oppidum est prædiis nostris vicinum nomine Tifernum," to place it nearer this latter town. But to form any opinion as to the real spot is impossible, without visiting the country itself, and comparing its localities with the description of Pliny.

Descending the hill of Arezzo next morning to the Etrurian plains so famed at all times for their fertility, and shortly after passing the Chiana or Clanis which intersects them, wo entered the Val d'Arno, the Italian Arcadia, and hailed the Tuscan muse and the genius of Milton. This vale, almost as celebrated in modern as the vale of Tempe was in ancient

* Liv. v. Ep. 6.

+ Lib. IV. Epist. 1.

Regio erat in primis Italiæ fertilis, Etrusci campi, qui Fæsulas inter Arretiumque jacent, frumenti et pecoris, et omnium copiâ rerum opulenti.-Tit. Liv. lib. XXII. 3.

days, is formed by two ranges of hills stretching along opposite to each other, at the distance of four or eight miles. In the plain between glides the Arno, diffusing fertility and verdure over his banks; industry extends the benefits of the stream even to the hills, covers their sides with harvests, and crowns their summits with orchards. Handsome villages grace the road, and neat clean looking cottages rise without number in the fields, oftentimes imbosomed in gardens and overshadowed with pendant vines. The hills on both sides are adorned with several little towns, sometimes boldly rising on their sides, and at other times half concealed in their woods and recesses. Beyond the hills on the right rise the Apennines, lofty, rugged, and naked, excepting one summit, which is tufted with the forest that overhangs Vallombrosa.

This scenery, which commences at the passage of the Chiana, or rather a few miles to the north of that river, continues with some variations to Florence, and forms the Val d'Arno Superiore. It is in its greatest beauty where narrowest, that is, from Levane to Incisa. At this latter place the vale expands into a plain, and the road diverges from the river. The weather was intensely hot, the roads very dusty, and consequently the delight which a scene so beautiful in itself, and so celebrated by fame is well calculated to inspire, was considerably abated. We entered Florence about sunset.

CHAP. VII.

HISTORY OF FLORENCE--ITS EDIFICES-CATHEDRAL-TOMBSMAUSOLEUM OF THE MEDICEAN FAMILY-PALACES-GALLERY.

THOUGH Florence owes its orign to a Roman colony, composed, it is said, of Cæsar's chosen veterans, and though it glories in having retained and occasionally displayed much of the energies and magnanimity of its founders, yet it made a very inconsiderable figure in ancient times; and as it was neither distinguished by great events, nor ennobled by great personages, it seems to have slumbered away several ages in the tranquil enjoyment of a fertile soil and a fine climate. Its powers were first called forth and its courage tried by the Gothic invasion, and while it underwent in common with the other cities of Italy, all the vicissitudes of that most destructive war which followed the demise of Theodoric, it seems to have invariably manifested a spirit of resistance and intrepidity worthy its military origin. These qualities suspended indeed but could not avert the fate of the city, which sunk under the disasters of the

Longobardic incursions, and remained for many years a deserted mass of ruins. It was restored by Charlemagne, and again resumed some celebrity, but never shone forth in all its lustre till governed by its own magistrates, and under laws enacted by its own authority, it acquired the name and energies of a republic. It was not, it is true, the first to profit of the weakness either of the German Cæsars or of its own rulers, but when it had once shaken off the yoke, it rose rapidly into fame and prosperity. Governed sometimes by its bishop, sometimes by its nobles, and not unfrequently by its people, it experienced all the varieties and all the agitations of republican administration. Sometimes convulsed by the rival pretensions of the former, or by the licentious claims of the latter, it was converted into a field of battle, a theatre of guilt and assassination; at other times under the sway of a wise and virtuous magistracy it exhibited a delightful scene of peace, industry, and prosperity, and displayed at once all the blessings and all the glories of liberty. It was frequently engaged in wars with the neighbouring states of Sienna, Pisa, and Lucca, then populous and enterprising, and in these civil contests obtained such a portion of military fame as placed it upon a level with most of the Italian commonwealths.

But whether agitated or tranquil at home, whether at peace or war abroad, its institutions were always free and manly, and its citizens were bold and active. This indeed is one of the peculiar and exclusive advantages of a republican government; every man acts for himself and for his own interests while he is acting for his country; the market of honor, dignity, and employment is open to all; it is consequently crowded with competitors, and each candidate is obliged in his own defence

to exert all the faculties of his soul, and call forth every latent energy. Hence that activity of mind, that fermentation of intellect and imagination, which produces genius and creates the poet and the orator, the statesman and the historian, the sage and the hero. The same ardent principle, it is true, that sets all the powers of the soul in motion may at the same time rouse many a dark and destructive passion, and impel a bold bad man to many a wicked deed; and I am aware that men of timid minds or of slavish downward propensities are too apt to take occasion from this acknowledgment to inveigh against popular governments, and exalt the advantages of monarchy. But do the intrigues of a court, and the lust and ambition of princes and ministers, excite no animosities, and produce no scenes of blood? or are the annals of monarchy stained with fewer crimes than the history of republicanism? The reverse is the case; and if all the crimes of all the Grecian republics were united, they would not equal the mass of guilt that might be collected from the reign of one Persian monarch; as all the murders and all the assassinations perpetrated in all the Italian commonwealths put into the scale together, would kick the beam when counterbalanced by the bloody deeds of Philip II. of Spain, or of Henry VIII. of England.

Wherever human passions are deeply engaged crimes will occur, but the difference between monarchy and republicanism is, that the former while it naturally excites and cherishes a spirit of intrigue, dissimulation, and treachery, proscribes the open, the generous feelings of conscious worth, independence, and honest pride, and thus gives vice a decided advantage over virtue; the latter on the contrary, friendly in its very essence to publicity and frankness, encourages the