The Mendicanti was a Venetian institution which deserves to be commemorated for its singularity: 

“Apropos to singing;—­we were this evening carried to a well-known conservatory called the Mendicanti, who performed an oratorio in the church with great, and I dare say deserved applause.  It was difficult for me to persuade myself that all the performers were women, till, watching carefully, our eyes convinced us, as they were but slightly grated.  The sight of girls, however, handling the double bass, and blowing into the bassoon, did not much please me; and the deep-toned voice of her who sung the part of Saul seemed an odd unnatural thing enough.

“Well! these pretty sirens were delighted to seize upon us, and pressed our visit to their parlour with a sweetness that I know not who would have resisted.  We had no such intent; and amply did their performance repay my curiosity for visiting Venetian beauties, so justly celebrated for their seducing manners and soft address.  They accompanied their voices with the forte-piano, and sung a thousand buffo songs, with all that gay voluptuousness for which their country is renowned.

“The school, however, is running to ruin apace; and perhaps the conduct of the married women here may contribute to make such conservatorios useless and neglected.  When the Duchess of Montespan asked the famous Louison D’Arquien, by way of insult, as she pressed too near her, ‘Comment alloit le metier?’ ’Depuis que les dames s’en melent,’ (replied the courtesan with no improper spirit,) ’il ne vaut plus rien.’”

Describing Florence, she says:—­

“Sir Horace Mann is sick and old; but there are conversations at his house of a Saturday evening, and sometimes a dinner, to which we have been almost always asked.”

So much for Walpole’s assertion that “she had broken with his Horace, because he could not invite her husband with the Italian nobility.”  She held her own, if she did not take the lead, in whatever society she happened to be thrown, and no one could have objected to Piozzi without breaking with her.  In point of fact, no one did object to him.

One of her notes on Naples is: 

“Well, well! if the Neapolitans do bury Christians like dogs, they make some singular compensations we will confess, by nursing dogs like Christians.  A very veracious man informed me yester morning, that his poor wife was half broken-hearted at hearing such a Countess’s dog was run over; ‘for,’ said he, ’having suckled the pretty creature herself, she loved it like one of her children.’  I bid him repeat the circumstance, that no mistake might be made:  he did so; but seeing me look shocked, or ashamed, or something he did not like,—­’Why, Madam,’ said the fellow, ’it is a common thing enough for ordinary men’s wives to suckle the lap-dogs of ladies of quality:’  adding, that they were paid for their milk, and he saw no harm in gratifying one’s superiors.  As I was disposed to see nothing but harm in disputing with such a competitor, our conference finished soon; but the fact is certain.”