ough the natural term of its existence may be thought by foreigners
to have arrived in the due course of mortality, only one sentiment can
be expected from the Venetians themselves. At no time were the subjects
of the republic so unanimous in their resolution to rally round the
standard of St. Mark, as when it was for the last time unfurled; and the
cowardice and the treachery of the few patricians who recommended the
fatal neutrality, were confined to the persons of the traitors
themselves. The present race cannot be thought to regret the loss of
their aristocratical forms, and too despotic government; they think only
on their vanished independence. They pine away at the remembrance, and
on this subject suspend for a moment their gay good humour. Venice may
be said, in the words of the Scripture, "to die daily;" and so general
and so apparent is the decline, as to become painful to a stranger, not
reconciled to the sight of a whole nation expiring, as it were, before
his eyes. So artificial a creation, having lost that principle which
called it into life and supported its existence, must fall to pieces at
once, and sink more rapidly than it rose. The abhorrence of slavery,
which drove the Venetians to the sea, has, since their disaster, forced
them to the land, where they may be at least overlooked amongst the
crowd of dependents, and not present the humiliating spectacle of a
whole nation loaded with recent chains. Their liveliness, their
affability, and that happy indifference which constitution alone can
give (for philosophy aspires to it in vain), have not sunk under
circumstances; but many peculiarities of costume and manner have by
degrees been lost; and the nobles, with a pride common to all Italians
who have been masters, have not been persuaded to parade their
insignificance. That splendour which was a proof and a portion of their
power, they would not degrade into the trappings of their subjection.
They retired from the space which they had occupied in the eyes of their
fellow citizens; their continuance in which would have been a symptom of
acquiescence, and an insult to those who suffered by the common
misfortune. Those who remained in the degraded capital, might be said
rather to haunt the scenes of their departed power, than to live in
them. The reflection, "who and what enthrals," will hardly bear a
comment from one who is, nationally, the friend and the ally of the
conqueror. It may, however, be allowed t