tittle" of her right of taxation and control. Charles Albert growls, but shrinks from responsibility-of course! Gioberti, Azeglio, and the Turin patriots make speeches and write pamphlets, but accomplish little or nothing. Venice crouches in her sea-girt home, stunned and bewildered by the strange events through which she has passed. Pio Nono, the Liberator of Italy, and the "hero of the nineteenth century," is at his wits' end, and trembles alike at the power of Austria and the spirit of revolution. His subjects are in rebellion, and if not subdued by foreign intervention, will strip his Holiness of his temporal rule.* The Grand Duke of Tuscany is doing the best he can to mind his own business, and steer his bark amid contending currents. Ferdinand of Naples exults in the success of his cruel and despotic policy, and is thoroughly prepared to co-operate with Austria, or any other selfish government, to maintain "tranquillity" in Italy. Such is the third act of the drama, flatter even than the second, and without much apparent promise as to the future.

But how long will this state of things last? Surely the play, tragedy or comedy, we scarcely know which to call it, is not yet ended! No, indeed! A few days, a few years at least, will see the whole reversed. Italy is not yet dead. Exhausted and perhaps bound in chains, but alive and sensitive; wounded and almost despairing, "but hoping against hope," and ready, whenever the time comes, for her great, her final, her successful struggle. God and the right will yet prevail.

But it is only through much tribulation, that any State or people, as in the case of an individual, can enter into the possession of a true and lasting freedom.

We rejoice to say, after waiting a short time, that a new phase in the history of the Venetian republic has just revealed itself. It seems that the annexation to Piedmont, voted by the General AsHe has fled from Tuscany.

* They have done so.

sembly, is annulled. The armistice, signed by Charles Albert, by which he resigned the whole of upper Italy to Austria, is violently rejected by the Venetians, and the Republic is once more declared independent. Manini is again called to the head of the government, and the citizens are resolved to defend themselves to the last extremity. The Austrians have not yet been able to take the city. It is defended by the inhabitants with most devoted bravery. Great sacrifices are made by rich and poor. The ladies abandon their costly dresses and jewels, the patricians and bankers their splendid furniture and plate, for the defense of the republic. "I regret," said one of the most distinguished ladies of the city, "I regret having no more, because I have nothing to give." All pay prodigious taxes without a murmur. All watch, night and day, arms in hand, upon the walls and in their ships. They are resolved to perish before yielding their city to the rapacious despotism of the Austrians. We cherish the liveliest hope, therefore, that the last and closing act of this singular drama will be one of triumph and joy.

CHAPTER VII.

Celebrated Venetians-Marco Polo-Pietro Bembo-Fra Paolo SarpiTitian-Tinterello-Goldoni-Canova-Ochino or Ocello of Sienna-Specimen of his preaching-Justification by Faith.

VENICE is less distinguished in arts and literature than Florence and Rome. But it boasts many illustrious names, and is rich in the spoils of antiquity, and in the splendors of architecture and painting. Among its distinguished men, the names of Marco Polo, the celebrated traveller; Pietro Bembo, cardinal, historian, and poet; Fra Paolo, philosopher and divine; Titian, Tinterello, and Paul Veronese, eminent painters; Canova, the sculptor; Goldoni, the father of Italian comedy, and others will occur to the intelligent reader. Here Petrarch spent a considerable portion of his time, much revered and loved by the Venetians; and as a mark of his affection bequeathed his library to the city, which, we regret to say, has been permitted to go to decay. Galileo also lived for some time in Venice, when professor of astronomy in the neighboring University of Padua, and made his celebrated lunar observations in the old tower of St. Mark. His telescope excited. the amazement and curiosity of the people so much, that he was obliged to keep himself out of the way, to escape their pressing importunities.

In those old churches, too, once preached the venerable and eloquent Ocello of Sienna, a man of apostolic piety, great simplicity of manners, and rare oratorical powers. He was also one of the

first Protestants in Italy, and exerted a wide-spread influence in favor of pure religion. Ugo Foscolo, of whom we have already spoken, belongs to Venice, but his long exile from his native country has identified him quite as much with Milan or London, as with Venice.

A few words respecting these distinguished men will conclude our notices of this ancient city, and beguile our journey to Ferrara, where we propose to linger for a time, before reaching the capital of Tuscany, the far-famed and beautiful Florence.

And, first of all, Marco Polo, with his majestic bearing and oriental dress, glides before us, joking pleasantly, and telling wonderful stories about Kublai Khan and the marvels of the far distant East. This greatest traveller and story-teller of the thirteenth century was the son of a Venetian merchant, Nicolo Polo, who, with his brother Matteo, had penetrated to the court of the conqueror Kublai, the illustrious Khan of the Tartars, where they were received with great kindness and hospitality. Among other things, the Khan was so much pleased with their account of Europe, that he made them his ambassadors to the Pope, on which they travelled back to Rome; and, after some delay, returned once more to the Tartar court, taking with them two missionaries and young Marco, who, in consequence of his aptitude in the acquisition of languages, graceful manners, and energetic character, became a great favorite with the Khan. He was employed on many important embassies, and traversed a large portion of Asia. Af*ter an absence of many years, and a series of singular adventures, he returned to Venice, and astonished his fellow-citizens by his great wealth, and his glowing descriptions of the wonders of extreme Asia. At their feasts and carnivals, among those most followed, was always a mask in a magnificent habit, relating marvellous adventures, and calling himself Messer Marco Millioni. This was the name given to Marco Polo by his fellow-citizens, on

account of his immense wealth. His house was called La Corte del Millioni, the palace of the rich man, or rather the millionaire, and was the frequent resort, during his life, of the curious and the learned.

Marco Polo was engaged as commander of a Venetian vessel in the unfortunate action with Genoa, off Curzola, in the Adriatic, where he was foremost in the attack, and, being wounded, was taken prisoner. To beguile the tediousness of four years' imprisonment, he committed his adventures to writing, in which he gives many startling descriptions, and strange incidents by flood and field, long doubted by the sceptical, but most of which have been singularly confirmed by succeeding travellers.* Happily, the admiration he excited among the Genoese led to his release from prison; but what became of him afterwards, history does not inform us.

Pietro Bembo, subsequently the celebrated secretary and cardinal at the court of Rome, whose touching sonnet on Italy we have already quoted, was born in Venice, in 1470, and died at Rome, loaded with honors, in 1547. He was a great connoisseur in the arts, a thorough Greek scholar, and a complete master of the niceties of his native tongue. He was familiar also with many sciences, and composed an elaborate history of Venice. During the early part of his life he resided in Venice, and became historiographer to the republic.

Of courtly manners and great conversational powers, Bembo became the favorite of popes and princes, and having acquired much wealth, he passed a considerable portion of his time in literary recreations, in the study of antiquities, the collection of

* We except, of course, his superstitious fancies, and some Sinbad stories which he heard from others. What he relates from his own observation may generally be relied on as true.