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to a sense of their duties. Hence the appearance of the first part, Il Mattino,' was warmly welcomed by the Austrian government. Irony is the weapon he employs. He shows us the 'giovin signore' rising in the morning, taking his cup of coffee or chocolate, conversing with his dancing-master, his French teacher or his barber, and then setting out to attend on 'l'altrui fida consorte a lui si cara.' And he contrasts with the futile existence of his hero the healthy, hard-working life of the country which he himself, a man of the people, had learnt to love in his youth.

The whole structure of society was at this time based on the cavaliere servente or cicisbeo. Ugo Foscolo describes him as made up of negatives. He is neither friend nor lover nor valet, yet he partakes of the character of all three. 'It is commonly believed in Italy that husbands know not how to make love,' wrote Carlo Gozzi. And he wrote the truth,' comments M. Monnier, who has caught the very spirit of the city of pleasure in his 'Venice in the Eighteenth Century.'

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'No husband understands those little courtesies and delicate attentions that a woman's happiness continually demands. And if he understands them, he would still be hindered from performing them, first, because he exists for his own sake; and secondly, because it is supremely ludicrous, woefully bourgeois, and the quintessence of vulgarity to be perpetually dangling at one's wife's petticoats. Accordingly the cicisbeo takes his place. . . . He supports her with his arm in walking, assists her with his hand in mounting or alighting, carries her gloves, her sunshade, her scaldino, and her poodle. In return he receives most notable prerogatives. He visits her when she is abed or newly arisen, at her toilet, in her morning-gown. He receives all her confidences and knows all her secrets. The husband would not be such a sovereign fool as to be jealous. . . . The cicisbeo is entitled to those little privileges which are as half-surrenders, and which are without doubt perhaps sweeter and more lasting than a complete surrender.'

...

Such is his scorn for the decay of virility and the increase of over-refined sensuality implied by such an institution that Parini even throws off for a moment the habitual restraint of his manner.

Though an ardent reformer, Parini was no revolutionary. His hatred of oppression made all violence

abhorrent to him. When some one raised the cry, 'Viva la Repubblica! Death to tyrants!' at the theatre, he got up and shouted, Viva la Repubblica! Death to no one!' And he was removed from his place on the Municipal Council of Milan for his opposition to the extremists. He despised the sciolism which the Encyclopædia had made fashionable in polite society. The ladies dabbled in Newton, as we have seen; and the 'giovin signor' toys with a beautifully-bound volume of Rousseau or of Voltaire, the Proteus of many minds, the master of those who make pretence to knowledge,' that has been smuggled past the censor at enormous cost. He will uphold their views on sexual morality at dinner for the delectation of his lady, passing over in discreet silence a doctrine so subversive as that of universal equality.

Prof. Bellezza complains that the Giorno' is little read. Parini is remembered by his odes and by a few purple patches in his longer poem, such as the description of the descent of Pleasure upon earth. Many of the abuses which he attacks are widely prevalent to-day. Prof. Bellezza adduces ample evidence to prove that the pampering of lapdogs in England and America is carried to lengths undreamt-of by the mistress of Parini's cuccia. But the 'Giorno' is a satire aimed at a particular order of society, and it therefore ceases to be of vital interest with the disappearance of the object of its attack. Parini realised this. He refused to finish his poem, declaring that to publish a satire upon a state of society already undergoing dissolution was as cowardly as to insult the dead. The 'Vespro' and the 'Notte' appeared only after the poet's death. The 'giovin signor' has long ceased to be a danger to any one. To us he has become an object of antiquarian interest; and we readily turn to the 'Giorno' for the light it throws upon the social life of the age. The very illustrations with which this well-printed edition is so lavishly provided only serve to emphasise our changed outlook. These delightful pictures of 'Settecento' life clash hopelessly with Parini's vaticinations. They would be more in keeping with the playful and sympathetic irony of the Rape of the Lock'; for they bring home to us irresistibly the delicate charm of the period.

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Though Parini's 'Messaggio' bears rather surprising

witness to his susceptibility to the graciousness of the high-born ladies of Milan, we must turn once more to Venice if we would see the influence of woman at its highest. Here the mask, worn for at least half the year, gave her a freedom such as she enjoyed nowhere else in Europe. The zentildonna is as much her own mistress as the courtesan of an earlier age. Moreover, she possesses a vivacity and a restless activity that amply compensate for her lack of education or of classic regularity of feature, in addition to 'great sweetness of disposition without that insipidity which is sometimes met with it,' as Arthur Young assures us. Hence the casini where the famous salonières entertain their friends are visited as religiously as St Mark's or the Ridotto by the sightseer of distinction.

Caterina Dolfin Tron, 'that true daughter of Venice and of her century,' as Prof. Molmenti calls her, was the most popular among them. Even the caustic Carlo Gozzi has nothing but good to say of her; and it was to her generosity that his brother, Gaspare-her father, as she called him—owed his freedom from want during his old age. She could be no less generous to her own sex. When there was some hesitation about introducing a lady of more than doubtful reputation to Venetian society, she readily undertook the task. Here is the Principessa Gonzago,' said she in a crowded assembly. 'She belongs to a distinguished family; for that I can answer. As for the rest, I will answer neither for her, nor for you, nor for myself.' These Italian hostesses are no brilliant correspondents like Madame Du Deffand or Mademoiselle Lespinasse or even like Mrs Piozzi. Yet Caterina Tron welcomed the new ideas in her salon, when such subjects were the fashion. And the Serenissima in its wisdom made them an excuse for closing her casino as a possible source of danger.

Very different is that other popular hostess, Cecilia Zen Tron, with whom she is often confused.

'Brava la Trona,

La vende el palco

Più cara della persona,'

sang the gondoliers, when they heard the price at which she had sold her box for a gala performance.

'You

are right,' answered she. Perchè questa, al caso, la dono.'

The tradition of the salon lingered at Venice after the Revolution. Giustina Renier Michiel abandoned her wig and patches, but her casino remained a favourite meeting-place for the men of letters till well into the new century. So did that of the gentle, beautiful, and witty Isabella Teotocchi Albrizzi, whose smile has something of the sweetness of Emma Hamilton's. Her visiting-card, with the engraving of a bragozzo in full sail across the lagoon, is among the prettiest that remain of a period when such a card might be designed by a Rosalba.

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If Parini symbolises the overthrow of the old order, Alfieri stands for the beginning of the new. He came from Piedmont, with its dynasty of saints and warriors,' where the austere virtues and strength of character that foreshadowed her future destiny were comparatively unimpaired.

'Venne quel grande, come il grande augello
Ond'ebbe nome; e a l'umile paese

Sopra volando, fulvo, irrequieto,
-Italia, Italia-

Egli gridava a' dissueti orecchi,
Ai pigri cuori, a gli animi giacenti:
-Italia, Italia-rispondeano l'urne

d'Arquà e Ravenna.'

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He is not of the settecento' as we know it. We are back in a work-a-day world, learning to fit itself for action under Napoleon's stern discipline, a world too closely in touch with our own for us to be able to take it otherwise than seriously.

LACY COLLISON-MORLEY.

Art. 4.-VENEREAL DISEASE DURING THE WAR.

In a general survey of the Medicine and Surgery of the war, much ground is traversed in which nothing but the highest praise is deserved. Taken as a whole, sanitation, medical care and surgical treatment have all, in response to the goad of international strife, attained to a pitch of wonderful proficiency. But in the midst of all this there is one barren and arid area, and that is the poison-tract of Venereal Disease. Our purpose here is to deal with this neither small nor unimportant aspect of the medical situation during the war. It is to inquire into the importance and prevalence of venereal disease; to examine the means taken to combat it; to consider whether these means have been adequate or not; and to try to draw some conclusions which may not only be helpful in future wars, but may be applicable to ordinary peace-time civil life.

It has come to be recognised even by the most amateur of strategists that, given approximate equality in other things, victory lies most nearly within the reach of that belligerent who possesses the greater reserve of healthy manhood. This may be accepted as an axiom, and, if ever proof were needed, the result of the great war has proved it conclusively. The work of the Medical Services of armies is primarily directed towards this end. The function of the army doctor is to maintain the numbers in the field by preventing or curing disease. When sickness and wounds occur, it is his aim to get those affected well again so that they can once more take their places in the ranks.

Health is the most essential component of that most powerful factor without which victory is impossiblemorale. An unhealthy army will inevitably lose its morale; and for such an army defeat is imminent. Morale is required not only by the man in the trenches but also by the man in the street. The confidence in one's ability and efficiency is of vital importance in ordinary civil life. The morale of the nation is the sum of these convictions in the individuals composing it; and a high morale is in direct proportion to the health standard. Eminencecommercially, intellectually, and morally-falls to that nation which numbers the greatest proportion of healthy

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