LETTER XVIII.

Venice.

HAV

AVING travelled with you through the splendid æras of the Venetian ftory, and prefented their statesmen and heroes to your view, let us now return to the present race, in whofe life and converfation, I forewarn you, there is nothing heroic. The truth is, that in every country, as well as Venice, we can only read of heroes; they are feldom to be seen: for this plain reafon, that while they are to be seen we do not think them heroes. The hiftorian dwells upon what is vaft and extraordinary; what is common and trivial finds no place in his records. When we hear the names of Epaminondas, Themistocles, Camillus, Scipio, and other great men of Greece and Rome, we think of their great actions, we know nothing elfe about them;but

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but when we fee the worthies of our own times, we unfortunately recollect their whole hiftory. The citizens of Athens and Rome, who lived in the days of the heroes above mentioned, very probably had not the fame admiration of them that we have; and our pofterity, fome eight or ten centuries hence, will, it is to be hoped, have a higher veneration for the great men of the prefent age, than their intimate acquaintance are known to have, or than thofe can be fuppofed to form, who daily behold them lounging in gaming-houses. All this, you perceive, is little more than a commentary on the old obfervation, That no man is a hero to his Valet de Chambre. The number of playhouses in Venice is very extraordinary, confidering the fize of the town, which is not thought to contain above one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, yet there are eight or nine theatres here, including the opera-houfes. You pay a trifle at the door for admittance; this entitles you to go into the pit, where

where you may look about, and determine what part of the house you will fit in. There are rows of chairs placed in the front of the pit, next the orchestra; the feats of these chairs are folded to their backs, and faftened by a lock. Those who choose to take them, pay a little more money to the door-keeper, who immediately unlocks the feat.

Very decentlooking people occupy thefe chairs; but the back part of the pit is filled with footmen and gondoleers, in their common working clothes. The nobility, and better fort of citizens, have boxes retained for the

year; but there are always a fufficient number to be let to ftrangers: the price of thofe varies every night, according to the feafon of the year, and the piece acted.

A Venetian playhouse has a difmal appearance in the eyes of people accuftomed to the brilliancy of thofe of London. Many of the boxes are fo dark, that the faces of the company in them can hardly

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be distinguished at a little distance, even when they do not wear masks. The stage, however, is well illuminated, fo that the people in the boxes can fee, perfectly well, every thing that is tranfacted there; and when they choose to be seen themfelves, they order lights into their boxes. Between the acts you fometimes fee ladies walking about, with their Cavalieri Serventés, in the back part of the pit, when it is not crowded. As they are masked, they do not fcruple to reconnoitre the company, with their fpying-glaffes, from this place when the play begins, they return to their boxes. This continual moving about from box to box, and between the boxes and the pit, muft create fome eonfufion, and, no doubt, is difagreeable to those who attend merely on account of the piece. There muft, however, be found fome douceur in the midft of all this obfcurity and confufion, which, in the opinion of the majority of the audience, overbalances these obvious inconveniences.

The mufic of the opera here is reckoned as fine as in any town in Italy; and, at any rate, is far fuperior to the praise of so very poor a judge as I am. The dramatic and poetical parts of those pieces are little regarded: the poet is allowed to indulge himself in as many anachronisms, and other inconfiftencies, as he pleases. Provided the mufic receives the approbation of the critic's ear, his judgment is not offended with any abfurdities in the other parts of the compofition. The celebrated Metaftafio has difdained to avail himself of this indulgence in his operas, which are fine dramatic compofitions. He has preserved the alliance which ought always to fubfift between fenfe and mufic.

But as for the mufic of the ferious operas, it is, in general, infinitely too fine for my ear; to my fhame I must confefs, that it requires a confiderable effort for me to fit till the end.