We visited the hall where the famous Council sat so many years, and voted so intrepidly against the Pope. Not satisfied with condemning his conduct, they actually damned him in effigy. A famous painting, in the town-house, is supposed to have been executed under their auspices. In this piece the Devil is represented driving the Pope and several ecclesiastics before him to Hell.—Why they should suppose the Devil should be so very active against his Holiness, I know no reason. Here are many pictures of Hans Holben’s (who was a native of Basil, and the favourite painter of Henry VIII. to whom he was first recommended by Erasmus); particularly, several portraits of Erasmus, and one sketch of Sir Thomas More’s family. Though portraits are in general the most insipid of all kinds of paintings, yet those of such celebrated persons, done by such a painter, are certainly very interesting pieces. The most admired of all Holben’s works, is a suite of small pieces in different compartments, representing the passion and sufferings of our Saviour. In these the colours remain with wonderful vivacity. We were also conducted to the dismal gallery, upon whose walls, what is called Holben’s Death’s Dance, is represented. The colours having been long exposed to the air, are now quite faded, which I can scarce think is much to be regretted, for the plan of the piece is so wretched, that the finest execution could hardly prevent it from giving disgust. A skeleton, which represents Death, leads off, in a dancing attitude, people of both sexes, of all ages, and of every condition, from the emperor to the beggar. All of them display the greatest unwillingness to accompany their hideous partner, who, regardless of tears, expostulations, and bribes, draws them along. You will take notice, that there is a Death for each character, which occasions a nauseous repetition of the same figure; and the reluctance marked by the different people who are forced to this hated minuet, is in some accompanied with grimaces so very ridiculous, that one cannot refrain from smiling, which surely is not the effect the painter intended to produce.—If he did, of all the contrivances that ever were thought of to put people in good-humour, his must be allowed the most extraordinary. To this piece, such as it is, Prior alludes in his ode to the memory of Colonel Villers. Nor aw’d by foresight, nor misled by chance, Imperious Death directs his ebon lance, Peoples great Henry’s tomb, and leads up Holben’s dance. In this city all the clocks are an hour advanced. When it is but one o’clock in all the towns and villages around, it is exactly two at Basil. This singularity is of three or four hundred years standing; and what is as singular as the custom itself, the origin of it is not known. This is plain, by their giving quite different accounts of it.