VINCENZO DA, a celebrated Italian poet, descended of a noble family of Florence, was born in that city on the 30th of December 1642. He commenced his studies under the Jesuits at Florence, and completed them in the university of Pisa. Grecian and Roman antiquity, philosophy, theology, and jurisprudence, were successively the objects of his study; poetry served merely as a relaxation from severer pursuits. Like most young devotees of the muses, he began with amatory verses; but the lady whom he loved and celebrated having died in the flower of her age, he burned all the verses which he had inscribed to her, and resolved henceforth to sing only heroic or sacred themes, a resolution which he most religiously observed. Having returned to Florence, after a residence of about five years at Pisa, he was received into the academy Della Crusca, and, in a short time, married a daughter of the senator Scipio Capponi; but as this lady brought him little fortune, and his own means were limited, he withdrew entirely from the world on the death of his father, and established himself in the country, where he divided his time between his studies, the education of his children, and the contemplation of the wonders of nature and its Author. He every day composed verses either in Latin or Italian, which he submitted to the judgment of his friends, and improved according to the advice which they gave, without any desire for publication, or indeed any other object than that of exercising his own powers. But a memorable occurrence drew him from the voluntary obscurity in which he had buried himself. Vienna, besieged by an army of 200,000 Turks, was delivered by John Sobieski, king of Poland, and by Charles, afterwards fifth Duke of Lorraine. This great event, which saved Christendom from the most imminent danger, excited the enthusiasm of Filicaja, who, in a magnificent *canzone* or ode, celebrated the victory of the Christian armies; he also addressed a second to the Emperor Leopold I., a third to the King of Poland, a fourth to the Duke of Lorraine, and a fifth to the God of Armies; and, the Ottomans having been entirely defeated in another battle, he celebrated this new triumph in a sixth ode, which is perhaps the most beautiful of all. These six triumphal odes excited universal admiration. The grand duke, of his own accord, sent copies of them to the princes whose exploits were commemorated, and from the latter the author received the most flattering acknowledgments. But as the copies of his odes became daily deformed by new errors, in proportion as they were multiplied, his friends at length obtained permission to print them. They accordingly appeared at Florence in 1684, in 4to; and Filicaja was, almost in spite of himself, placed in the first rank of Italian lyric poets. Another great ode, which he addressed the same year to Queen Christina of Sweden, fully supported the reputation which he had gained by his former productions. This princess, who then exhibited in private life the generosity of a sovereign, did not confine herself to a mere expression of her satisfaction, or corresponding with the author, or admitting him into the academy which she had formed at Rome of men most distinguished in poetry and letters; being informed of the depressed state of his circumstances, she in some sort adopted his two sons, undertook to defray the expense of their education, and exacted from their father, as the only expression of his gratitude, that he would maintain the most profound silence, not choosing, as she said, to have to blush before the public for having done so little to serve a man who had so many claims to her esteem. But a severe malady with which he was seized some years afterwards, was followed by another subject of affliction, which he felt much more sensibly; he lost his eldest son, who had been appointed page to the grand duke after the death of the queen his benefactress. This bereavement, which he bore with Christian fortitude, fixed on him the particular attention of the prince, who, interested in his fortune, conferred on him the dignity of senator, and soon afterwards appointed him ducal commissary of Volterra, then commissary of Pisa, and, lastly, secretary ou *tirage* to the magistrates, an important office, which gave him immediate access to the prince, and initiated him in the secrets of the government. Filicaja, in all his employments, secured at once the gratitude of the public, the attachment of those under him, and the esteem of his sovereign. Neither the multiplicity of his occupations, nor the progress of age, however, prevented him from dedicating several hours each day to the cultivation of letters and the exercise of his poetical talent; but as his piety, which had always been great, increased with his years, he at length confined his reading to religious books, and treated only of sacred subjects. Nevertheless, he had resolved to collect all his pieces, to revise and correct them anew, and to publish himself a complete edition of his lyrical compositions; but, whilst occupied with this undertaking, in which he had made considerable progress, he was seized with a violent affection in the chest, which in a few days put a period to his life. He died at Florence on the 24th of September. Filigree. 1707, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and was interred in the family vault in the church of St Peter, where his son Scipio erected a monument to his memory. The edition of his poetical works in Italian, which he was preparing, and had even begun to print at the time of his death, was also speedily published by the same son, who dedicated it to the Grand Duke Cosmo III., under the title of *Poesie Toscani di Vincenzo da Filicaja, senatore Fiorentino et accademico della Crusca*, Florence, 1707, in 4to. They were reprinted in 1720, with a life of the author, by Thomas Bonaventuri, a Florentine; which life had previously appeared in the second volume of the *Vite degli Arcadi Illustri*. But a more valuable though less beautiful edition, from which all the subsequent editions have been taken, is that of Venice, 1762, in two volumes 8vo; the first of which contains the *Poesie Toscani*, and the second the Latin verses of the same author, there for the first time collected from the different publications in which they had been previously scattered. There are subjoined some pieces in prose of inferior interest, if we except a literary correspondence of Filicaja with Francesco Redi, Menzini, and Gori, who shared with him the glory of having, in a corrupt age, remained faithful to the principles of good taste and sound literature. The *canzoni*, to which we have above referred, are perhaps the most remarkable compositions in this collection; but some of the other pieces are not inferior to these either in the dignity of the subject or the majesty and force of the style; and several of his *Sonnets* are worthy of these beautiful odes. Is there an Italian heart that can be insensible to the deep patriotic feeling, expressed with such a mournful and affecting sublimity, in the well-known sonnet, commencing

Italia, Italia, O tu cui fèo la sorte Dono infelice de Bellezza, &c;

one of the most perfect compositions of the kind in existence, and which, though it consists of only fourteen verses, will sustain a comparison with the most celebrated lyrical effusions, ancient or modern? We subjoin a happy translation.

"Italia! thou to whom in evil hour The fatal boon of beauty nature gave, Yet on thy front the sentence did engrave, That ceaseless wo should be thy only dower! Ah! were that beauty less, or more thy power! That he who now compels thee to his arms Might gaze with cold indifference on thy charms, Or tremble at thine eye's indignant lower; Thou shouldest not then behold in glittering line From the high Alps embattled throngs descend, And Gallic foes pollute thy Po's clear wave; Nor, whilst encompassed close by spears not thine, Shouldst thou by foreign hands thy rights defend, Conquering or conquered, evermore a slave."

FILIGREE or FILLAGREE (Ital. filigrano; Lat. filum a thread, and grana a grain); a very delicate kind of ornamental work in gold or silver, wrought in the manner of little threads, or threads and grains intermixed. Filigree work is of Eastern origin, and was first introduced into Europe by the Italians. In Sumatra, manufactures of this kind have been carried to the highest degree of perfection, and yet the tools employed are exceedingly coarse and clumsy. These are generally rudely and inartificially formed from any piece of old iron. A piece of iron hoop suffices for making the wire-drawing instrument; an old hammer head, stuck in a block, serves as an anvil; and two old nails, tied together at one end, will suffice for a pair of compasses. The gold is melted in a piece of *prezzo* or earthen rice-pot, or sometimes in a crucible of ordinary clay. In general no bellows are used, but the fire is blown with the mouth, through a joint of bamboo; and if the quantity of metal to be melted is considerable, three or four persons sit round the furnace, which is an old broken qualleé or iron pot, and blow together. At Padang, where the manufacture is most considerable, they have adopted the Chinese bellows. The method of drawing the wire differs but little from that which is used by European workmen. When drawn to a sufficient fineness, it is flattened by beating it on the anvil; and when flattened, a twist is given to it by rubbing it on a block of wood with a flat stick. After twisting they again beat it upon the anvil, and thus it becomes flattened wire with indented edges. The end of the wire is folded down with a pair of pincers, and thus is formed a leaf, or element of a flower, which is cut off. The end is again folded and cut off, till they have a sufficient number of leaves, which are laid on singly. Patterns of the flowers or foliage, in which there is seldom much variety, are prepared on paper of the size of the gold plate on which the filigree is to be laid. According to these, they begin to dispose on the plate the larger compartments of the foliage; for which they use plain flattened wire of a larger size, and fill it up with the leaves before mentioned. In order to fix the work, they employ a gelatinous substance made of the berry called *boca sago*, ground to a pulp on a rough stone. After the leaves have been all placed in order, and stuck on bit by bit, a solder is prepared of gold filings and borax moistened with water, which is strewed over the plate, when it is put in the fire for a short time, and the whole becomes united. This kind of work on a gold plate is called *carrang papam*; but when the work is open, it is called *carrang trous*. In executing the latter, the foliage is laid out upon a card, or soft kind of wood, and stuck on, as before described, with the sago berry; and the work, when finished, being strewed over with the solder, is put into the fire, when the card or soft wood burning away, the gold remains connected. If the piece be large it is soldered at several times. In the manufacture of badjoo buttons, they first make the lower part flat, and having a mould formed of a piece of buffalo's horn, indented to several sizes, each like one half of a bullet mould, they lay their work over one of these holes, and with a horn punch press it into the form of a button; after which they complete the upper part. When the filigree is finished they cleanse it by boiling it in water with common salt and alum, or sometimes lime juice; and in order to give it that fine purple colour which they called *sopo*, they boil it in water mixed with brimstone. The manner of making the little balls with which their works are sometimes ornamented, is simple. They take a piece of charcoal, and having cut it flat and smooth, make in it a small hole, which they fill with gold dust, and this being melted in the fire becomes a little ball. They are very inexpert at finishing and polishing the plain parts, hinges, screws, and the like, being in this as much excelled by the European artists as the latter fall short of them in the fineness and minuteness of the foliage. The Chinese also make filigree, mostly of silver, which looks elegant, but wants the extraordinary delicacy of the Malay work. The price of the workmanship depends upon the difficulty or uncommonness of the pattern. In some articles of usual demand it does not exceed one-third of the value of the gold, but in matters of fancy it is generally equal to that of the metal.