I went to church, twenty yards from our own door, with a servant to wait on me, three or four mornings ago; there was a lady particularly well dressed, very handsome, two footmen attending on her at a distance, took my attention.  Peter, said I, to my own man, as we came out, chi e quella dama? who is that lady?  Non e dama, replies the fellow, contemptuously smiling at my simplicity—­she is no lady.  I thought she might be somebody’s kept mistress, and asked him whose? Dio ne liberi, returns Peter, in a kinder accent—­for there heart came in, and he would not injure her character—­God forbid:  e moglie d’un ricco banchiere—­she is a rich banker’s wife.  You may see, added he, that she is no lady if you look—­the servants carry no velvet stool for her to kneel upon, and they have no coat armour in the lace to their liveries:  she a lady! repeated he again with infinite contempt.

I am told that the Arch-duke is very desirous to close this breach of distinction, and to draw merchants and traders with their wives up into higher notice than they were wont to remain in.  I do not think he will by that means conciliate the affection of any rank.  The prejudices in favour of nobility are too strong to be shaken here, much less rooted out so:  the very servants would rather starve in the house of a man of family, than eat after a person of inferior quality, whom they consider as their equal, and almost treat him as such to his face.  Shall we then be able to refuse our particular veneration to those characters of high rank here, who add the charm of a cultivated mind to that situation which, united even with ignorance, would ensure them respect?  When scholarship is found among the great in Italy, it has the additional merit of having grown up in their own bosoms, without encouragement from emulation, or the least interested motive.  His companions do not think much the more of him—­for that kind of superiority.  I suppose, says a friend of his, he must be fond of study; for chi pensa di una maniera, chi pensa d’ un altra, per me sono stato sempre ignorantissimo[I].

[Footnote I:  One man is of one mind, another of another:  I was always a sheer dunce for my own part.]

These voluntary confessions of many a quality, which, whether possessed or not by English people, would certainly never be avowed, spring from that native sincerity I have been praising—­for though family connections are prized so highly here, no man seems ashamed that he has no family to boast:  all feigning would indeed be useless and impracticable; yet it struck me with astonishment too, to hear a well-bred clergyman who visits at many genteel houses, say gravely to his friend, no longer ago than yesterday—­that friend a man too eminent both for talents and fortune—­“Yes, there is a grand invitation at such a place to-night, but I don’t go, because I am not a gentleman—­perche non sono cavaliere; and the master desired I would let you know that it was for no other reason that you had not a card too, my good friend; for it is an invitation of none but people of fashion you see.”  At all this nobody stares, nobody laughs, and nobody’s throat is cut in consequence of their sincere declarations.