days. There I made the acquaintance of an Englishman, of whom I bought a
travelling carriage. He took me to see Corilla, the celebrated poetess.
She received me with great politeness, and was kind enough to improvise
on several subjects which I suggested. I was enchanted, not so much with
her grace and beauty, as by her wit and perfect elocution. How sweet a
language sounds when it is spoken well and the expressions are well
chosen. A language badly spoken is intolerable even from a pretty mouth,
and I have always admired the wisdom of the Greeks who made their nurses
teach the children from the cradle to speak correctly and pleasantly. We
are far from following their good example; witness the fearful accents
one hears in what is called, often incorrectly, good society.

Corilla was 'straba', like Venus as painted by the ancients--why, I
cannot think, for however fair a squint-eyed woman may be otherwise, I
always look upon her face as distorted. I am sure that if Venus had been
in truth a goddess, she would have made the eccentric Greek, who first
dared to paint her cross-eyed, feel the weight of her anger. I was told
that when Corilla sang, she had only to fix her squinting eyes on a man
and the conquest was complete; but, praised be God! she did not fix them
on me.

At Florence I lodged at the "Hotel Carrajo," kept by Dr. Vannini, who
delighted to confess himself an unworthy member of the Academy Della
Crusca. I took a suite of rooms which looked out on the bank of the Arno.
I also took a carriage and a footman, whom, as well as a coachman, I clad
in blue and red livery. This was M. de Bragadin's livery, and I thought I
might use his colours, not with the intention of deceiving anyone, but
merely to cut a dash.

The morning after my arrival I put on my great coat to escape