Besançon.
The D—— of H—— went some weeks ago to visit an acquaintance in one of the provinces of France. As I inclined rather to pass that time at Geneva, we agreed to meet at Paris, whither Jack and I are thus far on our way.
I must now fairly confess that I found myself so happy with my kind friends the Genevois, that I could not spare an hour from their company to write to you or any correspondent, unless on indispensable business. I might also plead, that you yourself have been in some measure the cause of my being seduced from my pen. In your last letter; which I found waiting for me at the post-house at Geneva, you mention a late publication in terms that gave me a curiosity to see it; and an English gentleman,who had the only copy which has as yet reached that city, was so obliging as to lend it me. The hours which I usually allot to sleep, were all I had in my power to pass alone; and they were very considerably abridged by this admirable performance. The extensive reading there displayed, the perspicuity with which historical facts are related, the new light in which many of them are placed, the depth of the reflections, and the dignity and nervous force of the language, all announce the hand of a master. If the author lives to complete his arduous undertaking, he will do more to dissipate the historical darkness which overshadows the middle ages, give a clearerHistory of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and fill up, in a more satisfactory manner, the long interval between ancient and modern history, than all the writers who have preceded him. This accounts for my long silence. You see I resume my pen the very first opportunity, after the causes I have assignedfor it are removed, which ought to give the more weight to my apology.
As I have frequently been at Lyons, I chose, on this occasion, to return to Paris by Franche Comté and Champagne. We accordingly set out very early yesterday morning, and were by no means in high spirits when we left Geneva, and passed along the side of the lake, through the Pais de Vaud. The beauties of that country, though they astonish at first sight, yet, like the characters of the inhabitants, they improve on intimacy. Every time I have looked at the lake of Geneva, and its delightful environs, I have discovered something new to admire. As I entered the Canton of Bern, I often turned about, and at last withdrew my eyes from those favourite objects, with an emotion similar to what you feel on taking leave of a friend, whom you have reason to think you shall never see again.
The first place we came to, on entering France from the Canton of Bern, is a poor little town on an hill; I forget its name. While the postillion stopped to put something to rights about the harness, I stepped into a shop where they sold wooden shoes; and in the course of my conversation with a peasant, who had just purchased a pair for himself, and another for his wife, he said, “les Bernois sont bien à leur aise, Monsieur, pendant que nous autres François vivons tres durement, et cependant les Bernois sont des hérétiques.” “Voilà,” said an old woman, who sat in a corner reading her breviary; “voilà,” said she, taking off her spectacles, and laying her beads on the book, “ce que je trouve incompréhensible.”
This was, however, at the extremity of France, and in a province lately acquired; for it must be confessed, that it is not common for the French to imagine that any country whatever has the advantage oftheirs in any one circumstance; and they certainly are not so apt to grumble as some of their neighbours, who have less reason. When I was last at Geneva, a French hair-dresser—Let me intreat you not to shew this to your friend ——, who is so fond of people of quality, that he thinks there is nolifeout of their company. He would pshaw, and curse my poor peasants, and old women, and hair-dressers, and accuse me of being too fond of such low company.
As for the old women, I am much mistaken if there are not at least as many to be found of both sexes in high life as in low; for the others, I declare I have no particular affection, but I am fond of strokes of nature and character, and must look for them where they are to be found. I introduce the present hair-dresser to your acquaintance, because, if I am not mistaken, he spoke the sentiments of his whole nation, high and low. You shall judge. This young fellow attended me every morningwhile I remained at Geneva; he had been a year or two at London; and while he dressed my hair, his tongue generally moved as quick as his fingers. He was full of his remarks upon London, and the fine people whose hair he pretended to have dressed. “Do you not think,” said I, “that people may live very happily in that country?” “Mais—pour cela oui, Monsieur.” “Do you think, then, theyarehappy?” “Pour cela, non, Monsieur.” “Can you guess at the reason why they are not, though they have so much reason to be so?” “Oui, Monsieur, elle est toute simple.” “Pray what is the reason they are not happy?” “C’est, qu’ils ne font pas destinés à l’être.”
A very genteel young man, a Genevois, happened to call on me, for two minutes, while this friseur was with me. The young gentleman had passed some time at Paris, and was dressed exactly in the Parisian taste. “He has much the air of one ofyour countrymen,” said I to the Frenchman, as soon as the other had left the room.
“Mon Dieu! quelle différence,” cried the friseur. “For my part, I can see none,” said I. “Monsieur,” resumed he, “soyez persuadé qu’aucun Genevois ne sera jamais pris pour un François.” “There are certainly somepetit-maîtresto be found in this town,” said I. “Pardonnez moi,” replied he, “ils ne sont que petit-maîtres manqués.”
“Did you ever see an Englishman,” said I, “who might pass for a Frenchman?” “Jamais de la vie, Monsieur!” replied he, with an accent of astonishment.
“Suppose him,” said I, “a man of quality?” “N’importe.”
“But,” continued I, “suppose he had lived several years at Paris, that he was naturally very handsome, and well made, that he had been educated by the bestFrench dancing-master, his clothes made by the best French taylor, and his hair dressed by the most eminent friseur in Paris?” “C’est beaucoup, Monsieur, mais ce n’est pas assez.”
“What!” exclaimed I, “would you still know him to be an Englishman?” “Assurément, Monsieur.”
“What! before he spoke?” “Au premier coup d’œil, Monsieur.”
“The Devil you would; but how?” “C’est que Messieurs les Anglois ont un air—une manière de se présenter—un—que sais-je moi—vous m’entendez bien, Monsieur—un certain air si Gau—”
“Quel air maraud?” “Enfin un air qui est charmant, si vous voulez, Monsieur,” said he rapidly, “mais que le Diable m’emporte si c’est l’air François.”
To-morrow I shall take a view of this town, and proceed immediately after breakfast to Paris: mean while I wish you very heartily good night.
Paris.
I Made a longer stay at Besançon than I intended, and am now about to inform you what detained me. The morning after the date of my last, as I returned to the inn from the parade, where I had been to see the troops, I met a servant of the Marquis de F——, who ran up to me the moment he knew me, and, in a breath, told me, that his master was at Besançon; that he had been exceedingly ill, and thought, by the physicians, in great danger; but his complaint having terminated in an ague, they had now the strongest hopes of his recovery. I desired to be conducted immediately to him.
I found the Marquis alone; pale, languid, and greatly emaciated. He expressed, however, equal pleasure and surprise atthis unexpected visit; said, he had been in danger of making a very long journey, and added, with a smile, that no man had ever set out with less inclination, for he hated travelling alone, and this was the only journey he could ever take, without wishing some of his friends to accompany him. He rejoiced, therefore, that he had been recalled in time to meet me before I should pass on to Paris. “But tell me,” continued he, “for I have ten thousand questions to ask—but let us take things in order; Eh bien, donnez nous donc des nouvélles du Pape? On nous a dit que vous aviez passé par la ceremonie de la Pantoufle. Ne pourroit on pas pendre au tragique une misère comme cela chez vous où le Saint Pere passe pour uneBabyloniennede mauvaise vie?” Before I could make any answer I chanced to turn my eyes upon a person whom I had not before observed, who sat very gravely upon a chair in a corner ofthe room, with a large periwig in full dress upon his head.
The Marquis, seeing my surprise at the sight of this unknown person, after a very hearty fit of laughter, begged pardon for not having introduced me sooner to that gentleman (who was no other than a large monkey), and then told me, he had the honour of being attended by a physician, who had the reputation of possessing the greatest skill, and whocertainlywore the largest periwigs of any doctor in the province. That one morning, while he was writing a prescription at his bed-side, this same monkey had catched hold of his periwig by one of the knots, and instantly made the best of his way out at the window to the roof of a neighbouring house, from which post he could not be dislodged, till the Doctor, having lost patience, had sent home for another wig, and never after could be prevailed on to accept of this, which had been so much disgraced. That,enfin, his valet, to whom the monkey belonged, had, ever since that adventure, obliged the culprit, by way of punishment, to sit quietly for an hour every morning, with the periwig on his head.—Et pendant ces moments de tranquilité je suis honoré de la société du vénérable personage. Then addressing himself to the monkey, “Adieu, mon ami, pour aujourdhui—au plaisir de vous revoir;” and the servant immediately carried Monsieur le Medecin out of the room.
Afraid that the Marquis might be the worse for talking so much, I attempted to withdraw, promising to return in the evening; but this I could not get him to comply with. He assured me, that nothing did him so much harm as holding his tongue; and that the most excessive headach he had ever had in his life, was owing to his having been two hours without speaking, when he made his addresses to Madam de ——; who could never forgivethose who broke in upon the thread of her discourse, and whom helostafter all, by uttering a few sentences before she could recover her breath after a fit of sneezing. In most people’s discourse, added he, a sneeze passes for a full stop. “Mais dans le Caquet eternel de cette femme ce n’est qu’un virgule.”
I then enquired after my friends Dubois and Fanchon.—He told me, that his mother had settled them at her house in the country, where she herself chose, of late, to pass at least one half of the year; that Dubois was of great service to her, in the quality of steward, and she had taken a strong affection for Fanchon, and that both husband and wife were loved and esteemed by the whole neighbourhood. “I once,” continued the Marquis, “proposed to Fanchon, en badinant, to make a trip to Paris, for she must be tired of so much solitude.” “Have I not my husband?” said she, “Your husband is not company,” rejoinedI, “your husband, you know, is yourself. What do you think was her answer?” “Elle m’a répondu,” continued the Marquis, “Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, plus on sé loigne de soi-même, plus on s’écarte du bonheur.”
In the progress of our conversation, I enquired about the lady to whom he was to have been married, when the match was so abruptly broken off by her father. He told me, the old gentleman’s behaviour was explained a short time after our departure from Paris, by his daughter’s marriage to a man of great fortune; but whose taste, character, and turn of mind were essentially different from those of the young lady. “I suppose then,” said I, “she appeared indifferent about him from the beginning.” “Pardonnez moi,” replied the Marquis, “au commencement elle joua la belle passion pour son mari, jusqu’à scandaliser le monde, peu à peu elle devint plus raisonable, et sur cet article les deuxepoux jouèrent bientôt à fortune égale, à présent ils s’amusent à se chicaner de petites contradictions qui jettent plus d’amertume dans le commerce que de torts décidés.”
“Did you ever renew your acquaintance?”
“Je ne pouvois faire autrement, elle a marqué quelques petits regrets de m’avoir traité si cruellement.”
“And how did you like her,” said I, “on farther acquaintance?”
“Je lui ai trouvé,” answered he, “tout ce qu’on pent souhaiter dansla femme d’un autre.”
The Marquis, feeling himself a little cold, and rising from the sopha to ring for some wood, had a view of the street. “O ho,” cried he, looking earnestly through the window, “regardez, regardez cet homme”—“Quel homme?” said I. “Cethomme à gros ventre,” said he; and while he spoke, his teeth began to chatter. “Ah, Diable, voilà mon chien d’accés—cet homme qui marche comme un Di—Di—Dindon, c’est l’aumonier du regiment.” I begged he would allow himself to be put to bed, for by this time he was all over shivering with the violence of the ague.
“Non, non, ce n’est rien,” said he, “il faut absolument que je vous conte cette histoire. Cet homme qui s’engraisse en nettoy—nett—et—et—en nettoyant l’ame de mes soldats, faisoit les yeux doux à la femme d’un Ca—Ca—Caporal—Diantre je n’en peux plus. Adieu, mon ami, c’est la plus plaisante hist—sis—peste! demandez mes gens.”
He was put to bed directly. I found the court below full of soldiers, who had come to enquire after their Colonel. Before I had reached the street, the Marquis’s Valet-de-Chambre overtook me, le ris sur la bouche,et les larmes aux yeux, with a message from his master.
The soldiers crowded about us, with anxiety on all their countenances. I assured them, there was no danger; that their Colonel would be well within a very few days. This was heard with every mark of joy, and they dispersed, to communicate the good news to their comrades.
“Ah, Monsieur,” said the Valet, addressing himself to me, “il est tant aimé de ces braves Garçons! et il merite si bien de l’être!”
Next day he looked better, and was in his usual spirits; the day following, he was still better; and having taken a proper quantity of the bark during the interval, he had no return of the fever. As he has promised to continue the use of the bark, in sufficient doses, for some time, and as relapses are not frequent at this season of the year, I am persuaded the affair is over,and that he will gradually gain strength till he is perfectly recovered.
He received me with less gaiety than usual, the day on which I took my leave, and used many obliging expressions, which, however you may smile, I am entirely disposed to believe were sincere; for
Altho’ the candy’d tongue lick absurd pomp,And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,Where thrift may follow fawning:——Why should the poor be flatter’d?
Altho’ the candy’d tongue lick absurd pomp,And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,Where thrift may follow fawning:——Why should the poor be flatter’d?
Altho’ the candy’d tongue lick absurd pomp,And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,Where thrift may follow fawning:——Why should the poor be flatter’d?
Altho’ the candy’d tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning:
——Why should the poor be flatter’d?
Just as I was returning, we heard the music of the troops marching off the parade.—“Apropos,” cried he, “How do your affairs go on with your Colonies?” I said, I hoped every thing would be arranged and settled very soon.
“Ne croyez vous pas,” said he, “que ces Messieurs,” pointing to the troops which then passed below the window, “pourroient entrer pour quelque chose dans l’arrangement?”
I said, I did not imagine the Americans were such fools as to break all connection with their friends, and then risk falling into the power of their enemies.
“Il me semble,” answered he, “que ces Messieurs font assez peu de cas de votre amitié, et aussi, quand vous aurez prouvé qu’ils ont tort, il ne s’en suivra pas que vous ayiez toujours eu raison.” “Allons,” continued he, seeing that I looked a little grave, “point d’humeur;” then seizing my hand, “permettez moi, je vous prie, d’aimer les Anglois sans haïr les Américains.”
I soon after parted with this amiable Frenchman, whose gaiety, wit, and agreeable manners, if I may judge from my own experience, represent the character and disposition of great numbers of his countrymen.
After a very agreeable journey by Gray, Langres, and Troyes, we arrived at this capital a few days ago.
Paris.
Although it is a considerable time since my arrival, yet, as you made so long a stay at Paris while we were in Germany, I could not think of resuming my observations on the manners of this gay metropolis. It has been said, that those times are the most interesting to read of, which were the most disagreeable to live in. So I find the places in which it is most agreeable to reside, are precisely those from which we have the least inclination to write. There are so many resources at Paris, that it always requires a great effort to write letters, of any considerable length, from such a place. This is peculiarly my case at present, as I have the happiness of passing great part of my time with Mr. A—— S——t, whom I found at this hotel on my arrival. The integrity, candour,and ability, of that gentleman’s conduct, during a long residence, have procured him a great number of friends in this capital, and have established a character which calumny attempted in vain to overthrow. Now that I have resolution to take up my pen, I shall endeavour to clear the debt for which you dun me so unmercifully. I own, I am surprised, that you should require my opinion on the uses of foreign travel, after perusing, as you must have done, the Dialogues, lately published by an eminent divine, equally distinguished for his learning and taste. But as I know what makes you peculiarly solicitous on that subject at present, I shall give you my sentiments, such as they are, without farther hesitation.
I cannot help thinking, that a young man of fortune may spend a few years to advantage, in travelling through some of the principal countries of Europe, provided the tour be well-timed, and well-conducted;and, without these, what part of education can be of use?
In a former letter, I gave my reasons for preferring the plan of education at the public schools of England, to any other now in use at home or abroad. After the young person has acquired the fundamental parts of learning, which are taught at schools, he will naturally be removed to some university. One of the most elegant and most ingenious writers of the present age has, in his Inquiry into the Causes of the Wealth of Nations, pointed out many deficiencies in those seminaries. What that gentleman has said on this subject, may possibly have some effect in bringing about an improvement. But, with all their deficiencies, it must be acknowledged, that no universities have produced a greater number of men distinguished for polite literature, and eminent for science, than those of England. If a young man has, previously, acquired the habit of application,and a taste for learning, he will certainly find the means of improvement there; and, without these, I know not where he will make any progress in literature. But whatever plan is adopted, whether the young man studies at the university, or at home with private teachers, while he is studying with diligence and alacrity, it would be doing him a most essential injury, to interrupt him by a premature expedition to the Continent, from an idea of his acquiring the graces, elegance of manner, or any of the accomplishments which travelling is supposed to give. Literature is preferable to all other accomplishments, and the men of rank who possess it, have a superiority over those who do not, let their graces be what they may, which the latter feel and envy, while they affect to despise.
According to this plan, a youth, properly educated, will seldom begin his foreign tour before the age of twenty; ifit is a year or two later, there will be no harm.
This is the age, it may be said, when young men of fortune endeavour to get into Parliament: it is so; but if they should remain out of Parliament till they are a few years older, the affairs of the nation might possibly go on as well.
It may also be said, if the tour is deferred till the age of twenty, the youth will not, after that period of life, attain the modern languages in perfection. Nor will he acquire that easy manner, and fine address, which are only caught by an early acquaintance with courts, and the assemblies of the gay and elegant. This is true to a certain degree; but the answer is, that by remaining at home, and applying to the pursuits of literature, he will make more valuable attainments.
I am at a loss what to say about those same graces; it is certainly desirable topossess them, but they must come, as it were, spontaneously, or they will not come at all. They sometimes appear as volunteers, but cannot be pressed into any service; and those who shew the greatest anxiety about them, are the least likely to attain them. I should be cautious, therefore, of advising a young man to study them either at home or abroad with much solicitude. Students of the graces are, generally, the most abominably affected fellows in the world. I have seenoneof them make a whole company squeamish.
Though the pert familiarity of French children would not become an English boy, yet it merits the earliest and the utmost attention to prevent or conquer that aukward timidity which so often oppresses the latter when he comes into company. The timidity I speak of, is entirely different from modesty. I have seen the most impudent boys I ever knew, almost convulsed with constraint in the presence of strangers, or when they were required to pronouncea single sentence of civility. But it was only on such occasions they were bashful. Among their companions or inferiors, they were saucy, rude, and boisterous.
If boys of this descriptiononlywere liable to bashfulness, it would be a pity to remove it. But although this quality is distinct from modesty, it is not incompatible with it. Boys of the most modest and most amiable disposition are often overwhelmed with it; from them it ought to be removed, if it can be done, without endangering that modesty which is so great an ornament to youth, and indeed to every period of life. This, surely, may be done in England, as well as in any other country; but it is too much neglected: many consider it as a matter of no importance, or that it will wear off by time. We see it, however, often annihilate, and always impair the effect of the greatest and most useful talents. After the care of forming the heart by the principles of benevolence andintegrity, perhaps one of the most important parts of education is, to habituate a boy to behave with modesty, but without restraint, and to retain the full possession of all his faculties in any company.
To attain, betimes, that ease and elegance of manner, which travelling is supposed to bestow, and that the young gentleman may become perfectly master of the modern languages, some have thought of mixing the two plans; and, instead of allowing him to prosecute his studies at home, sending him abroad, immediately on his coming from school, on the supposition that, with the assistance of a tutor and foreign professors, he will proceed in the study of philosophy, and other branches of literature, during the three or four years which are employed in the usual tour. It will not be denied, that a young man who has made good use of his time at school and at the university, who has acquired such a taste for science as to considerits pursuits as a pleasure, and not a task, may, even during his travels, mix the study of men with that of books, and continue to make progress in the latter, when the greater part of his time is dedicated to the former. But that such a taste will, forthe first time, spring up in the breast of a boy of sixteen or seventeen, amidst the dissipation of theatres, reviews, processions, balls, and assemblies, is of all things the least probable.
Others, who think lightly of the importance of what is usually called science to a young man of rank and fortune, still contend, that a knowledge of history, which they admit may be of some useeven to men of fortune, can certainly be acquired during the years of travelling. But what sort of a knowledge will it be which a boy, in such a situation, will acquire? Not that which Lord Bolingbroke calls philosophy, teaching by examples, a proper conduct in the various situations of public and privatelife, but merely a succession of reigns, of battles, and sieges, stored up in the memory without reflection or application. I remember a young gentleman, whom a strong and retentive memory of such events often set a prating very mal-à-propos; one of his companions expressed much surprise at his knowledge, and wondered how he had laid up such a store. “Why, truly,” replied he, with frankness, “it is all owing to my bungling blockhead of a valet, who takes up such an unconscionable time in dressing my hair, that I am glad to read to keep me from fretting; and as there are no newspapers, or magazines, to be had in this country, I have been driven to history, which answers nearly as well.”
But it sometimes happens, that young men who are far behind their contemporaries in every kind of literature, are wonderfully advanced in the knowledge of the town, so as to vie with the oldest professorsin London, and endanger their own health by the ardour of their application. The sooner such premature youths are separated from the connections they have formed in the metropolis, the better; and as it will not be easy to persuade them to live in any other part of Great Britain, it will be necessary to send them abroad. But, instead of being carried to courts and capitals, the best plan for them will be, to fix them in some provincial town of France or Switzerland, where they may have a chance of improving, not so much by new attainments, as by unlearning or forgetting what they have already acquired.
After a young man has employed his time to advantage at a public school, and has continued his application to various branches of science till the age of twenty, you ask, what are the advantages he is likely to reap from a tour abroad?
He will see mankind more at large, and in numberless situations and points of view,in which they cannot appear in Great Britain, or any one country. By comparing the various customs and usages, and hearing the received opinions of different countries, his mind will be enlarged. He will be enabled to correct the theoretical notions he may have formed of human nature, by the practical knowledge of men. By contemplating their various religions, laws, and government,in action, as it were, and observing the effects they produce on the minds and characters of the people, he will be able to form a juster estimate of their value than otherwise he could have done. He will see the natives of other countries, not as he sees them in England, mere idle spectators, but busily employed in their various characters, as actors on their own proper stage. He will gradually improve in the knowledge ofcharacter, not of Englishmen only, but of men in general; he will cease to be deceived either by the varnish with which men are apt to heighten their own actions, or the dark colours inwhich they, too often, paint those of others. He will learn to distinguish the real from the ostensible motive of men’s words and behaviour. Finally, by being received with hospitality, conversing familiarly, and living in the reciprocal exchange of good offices with those whom he considered as enemies, or in some unfavourable point of view, the sphere of his benevolence and good-will to his brethren of mankind will gradually enlarge. His friendships extending beyond the limits, of his own country, will embrace characters congenial with his own in other nations. Seas, mountains, rivers, aregeographicalboundaries, but never limited the good-will or esteem of one liberal mind. As for his manner, though it will probably not be so janty as if he had been bred in France from his earliest youth, yet that also will in some degree be improved.
However persuaded he may be of the advantages enjoyed by the people of England,he will see the harshness and impropriety of insulting the natives of other countries with an ostentatious enumeration of those advantages; he will perceive how odious those travellers make themselves, who laugh at the religion, ridicule the customs, and insult the police of the countries through which they pass, and who never fail to insinuate to the inhabitants that they are all slaves and bigots. Such bold Britons we have sometimes met with,fightingtheir way through Europe, who, by their continual broils and disputes, would lead one to imagine that the angel of the Lord had pronounced on each of them the same denunciation which he did on Ishmael the son of Abraham, by his handmaid Hagar. “And he will be a wild man, and his hand will be against every man, and every man’s hand against him[12].” If the same unsocial disposition should creep into our politics, it might arm all the powers in Europe againstGreat Britain, before she gets clear of her unhappy contest with America. A young man, whose mind has been formed as it ought, before he goes abroad, when he sees many individuals preserve personal dignity in spite of arbitrary government, an independent mind amidst poverty, liberal and philosophic sentiments amidst bigotry and superstition; must naturally have the highest esteem for such characters, and allow them more merit than those even of his own country, who think and act in the same manner in less unfavourable circumstances.
Besides these advantages, a young man of fortune, by spending a few years abroad, will gratify a natural and laudable curiosity, and pass a certain portion of his life in an agreeable manner. He will form an acquaintance with that boasted nation, whose superior taste and politeness are universally acknowledged; whose fashions and language are adopted by all Europe; and who,in science, power, and commerce, are the rivals of Great Britain. He will have opportunities of observing the political constitution of the German empire; that complex body, formed by a confederacy of princes, ecclesiastics, and free cities, comprehending countries of vast extent, inhabited by a hardy race of men, distinguished for solid sense and integrity, who, without having equalled their sprightlier neighbours in works of taste or imagination, have shewn what prodigious efforts of application the human mind is capable of in the severest and least amusing studies, and whose armies exhibit at present the most perfect models of military discipline. In contemplating these, he will naturally consider, whether those armies tend most to the aggrandizement of the Monarch, or to defend or preserve any thing to the people who maintain them, and the soldiers who compose them, equivalent to the vast expence of money, and the still greater quantity of misery which they occasion.
Viewing the remains of Roman taste and magnificence, he will feel a thousand emotions of the most interesting nature, while those whose minds are not, like his, stored with classical knowledge, gaze with tasteless wonder, or phlegmatic indifference; and, exclusive of those monuments of antiquity, he will naturally desire to be acquainted with the present inhabitants of a country, which at different periods has produced men who, by one means or another, have distinguished themselves so eminently from their contemporaries of other nations. At one period, having subdued the world by the wisdom and firmness of their councils, and the disciplined vigour of their armies, Rome became at once the seat of empire, learning, and the arts.
After the Northern barbarians had destroyed the overgrown fabric of Roman power, a new empire, of a more singular nature, gradually arose from its ruins, artfully extending its influence over the mindsof men, till the Princes of Europe were at length as much controlled by the bulls of the Vatican, as their ancestors had been by the decrees of the Senate.
Commerce also, which rapine and slaughter had frightened from Europe, returned, and joined with Superstition in drawing the riches of all the neighbouring nations to Italy. And, at a subsequent period, Learning, bursting through the clouds of ignorance which overshadowed mankind, again shone forth in the same country, bringing in her train, Poetry, Painting, Sculpture, and Music, all of which have been cultivated with the greatest success; and the three last brought, by the inhabitants of this country, to a degree of excellence unequalled by the natives of any other country of the world. When to these considerations we add, that there is reason to believe that this country had arrived at a great degree of perfection in the arts before the beginning of theRoman republic, we are almost tempted to believe, that local and physical causes have a considerable influence in rendering the mind more acute in this country of Italy, than any where else; and that if the infinite political disadvantages under which it labours were removed, and the whole of this peninsula united in one State, it would again resume its superiority over other nations.
Lastly, by visiting other countries, a subject of Great Britain will acquire a greater esteem than ever for the constitution of his own. Freed from vulgar prejudices, he will perceive, that the blessings and advantages which his countrymen enjoy, do not flow from their superiority in wisdom, courage, or virtue, over the other nations of the world, but, in some degree, from the peculiarity of their situation in an island; and, above all, from those just and equitable laws which secure property, that mild free governmentwhich abhors tyranny, protects the meanest subject, and leaves the mind of man to its own exertions, unrestrained by those arbitrary, capricious, and impolitic shackles, which confine and weaken its noblest endeavours in almost every other country of the world. This animates industry, creates fertility, and scatters plenty over the boisterous island of Great Britain, with a profusion unknown in the neighbouring nations, who behold with astonishment such numbers of British subjects, of both sexes, and of all ages, roaming discontented through the lands of despotism, in search of that happiness, which, if satiety and the wanton restlessness of wealth would permit, they have a much better prospect of enjoying in their own country.
Cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.Strenua nos exercet inertia, navibus atqueQuadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est.
Cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.Strenua nos exercet inertia, navibus atqueQuadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est.
Cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.Strenua nos exercet inertia, navibus atqueQuadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est.
Cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.
Strenua nos exercet inertia, navibus atque
Quadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est.
[12]Vide Genesis, chap. xvi. verse 12.
[12]Vide Genesis, chap. xvi. verse 12.
[12]Vide Genesis, chap. xvi. verse 12.
THE END.
The wretched father running to their aid,With pious haste, but vain, they next invade.Dryden.
The wretched father running to their aid,With pious haste, but vain, they next invade.Dryden.
The wretched father running to their aid,With pious haste, but vain, they next invade.
The wretched father running to their aid,
With pious haste, but vain, they next invade.
Dryden.
Dryden.
How beautiful he is! O how beautiful he is!
He is as beautiful as he is holy.
O God, where am I? what pleasure ravishes my soul!
The memory of Cassius and Brutus made a deeper impression on the minds of the spectators, on this very account, that their statues werenotseen in the procession.
Many have held the empire longer; none ever relinquished it from more generous motives.
Now by rich Circe’s coast they bend their way.
Now by rich Circe’s coast they bend their way.
Now by rich Circe’s coast they bend their way.
Now by rich Circe’s coast they bend their way.
Last with her martial troops all sheathed in brass,Camilla came, a queen of Volscian race;Nor were the web or loom the virgin’s care,But arms and coursers, and the toils of war.She led the rapid race, and left behindThe flagging floods, and pinions of the wind:Lightly she flies along the level plain,Nor hurts the tender grass, nor bends the golden grain.Pitt.
Last with her martial troops all sheathed in brass,Camilla came, a queen of Volscian race;Nor were the web or loom the virgin’s care,But arms and coursers, and the toils of war.She led the rapid race, and left behindThe flagging floods, and pinions of the wind:Lightly she flies along the level plain,Nor hurts the tender grass, nor bends the golden grain.Pitt.
Last with her martial troops all sheathed in brass,Camilla came, a queen of Volscian race;Nor were the web or loom the virgin’s care,But arms and coursers, and the toils of war.She led the rapid race, and left behindThe flagging floods, and pinions of the wind:Lightly she flies along the level plain,Nor hurts the tender grass, nor bends the golden grain.
Last with her martial troops all sheathed in brass,
Camilla came, a queen of Volscian race;
Nor were the web or loom the virgin’s care,
But arms and coursers, and the toils of war.
She led the rapid race, and left behind
The flagging floods, and pinions of the wind:
Lightly she flies along the level plain,
Nor hurts the tender grass, nor bends the golden grain.
Pitt.
Pitt.
To Forum-Appii thence we steer, a placeStuff’d with rank boatmen, and with vintners base.Francis.
To Forum-Appii thence we steer, a placeStuff’d with rank boatmen, and with vintners base.Francis.
To Forum-Appii thence we steer, a placeStuff’d with rank boatmen, and with vintners base.
To Forum-Appii thence we steer, a place
Stuff’d with rank boatmen, and with vintners base.
Francis.
Francis.
The head of St. Thomas Aquinas.
And the steep hills of Circe stretch around,Where fair Feronia boasts her stately grove,And Anxur glories in her guardian Jove;Where stands the Pontine lake——Pitt.
And the steep hills of Circe stretch around,Where fair Feronia boasts her stately grove,And Anxur glories in her guardian Jove;Where stands the Pontine lake——Pitt.
And the steep hills of Circe stretch around,Where fair Feronia boasts her stately grove,And Anxur glories in her guardian Jove;Where stands the Pontine lake——
And the steep hills of Circe stretch around,
Where fair Feronia boasts her stately grove,
And Anxur glories in her guardian Jove;
Where stands the Pontine lake——
Pitt.
Pitt.
Whether is it best to go by the Numician or Appian way to Brundusium?
We willingly leave Fundi, where Alifidius Luscus is chief magistrate.
From whom the illustrious race arose,Who first possessed the Formian towers.Francis.
From whom the illustrious race arose,Who first possessed the Formian towers.Francis.
From whom the illustrious race arose,Who first possessed the Formian towers.
From whom the illustrious race arose,
Who first possessed the Formian towers.
Francis.
Francis.
My cups are neither enriched with the juice of the Falernian grapes, nor that of those from the Formian hills.
——the rich fields that Liris laves,Where silent roll his deepning waves.Francis.
——the rich fields that Liris laves,Where silent roll his deepning waves.Francis.
——the rich fields that Liris laves,Where silent roll his deepning waves.
——the rich fields that Liris laves,
Where silent roll his deepning waves.
Francis.
Francis.
Pure spirits these; the world no purer knows;For none my heart with such affection glows.How oft did we embrace! our joys how great!Is there a blessing, in the power of fate,To be compared, in sanity of mind,To friends of such companionable kind?Francis.
Pure spirits these; the world no purer knows;For none my heart with such affection glows.How oft did we embrace! our joys how great!Is there a blessing, in the power of fate,To be compared, in sanity of mind,To friends of such companionable kind?Francis.
Pure spirits these; the world no purer knows;For none my heart with such affection glows.How oft did we embrace! our joys how great!Is there a blessing, in the power of fate,To be compared, in sanity of mind,To friends of such companionable kind?
Pure spirits these; the world no purer knows;
For none my heart with such affection glows.
How oft did we embrace! our joys how great!
Is there a blessing, in the power of fate,
To be compared, in sanity of mind,
To friends of such companionable kind?
Francis.
Francis.
Formerly called another Carthage, or another Rome; it now lies buried in its own ruins.
God forbid!
Blessed Jesus!
It is that which vexes me.
My son laments, that he has not killed more than eighty birds in one day, whereas, I should think myself the happiest man in the world, if I could kill forty.
The knight of Aglant now has couch’d his spear,Where closely prest the men and arms appear:First one, and then another, helpless dies;Thro’ six at once the lance impetuous flies,And in the seventh inflicts so deep a wound,That prone he tumbles lifeless to the ground.Hoole.
The knight of Aglant now has couch’d his spear,Where closely prest the men and arms appear:First one, and then another, helpless dies;Thro’ six at once the lance impetuous flies,And in the seventh inflicts so deep a wound,That prone he tumbles lifeless to the ground.Hoole.
The knight of Aglant now has couch’d his spear,Where closely prest the men and arms appear:First one, and then another, helpless dies;Thro’ six at once the lance impetuous flies,And in the seventh inflicts so deep a wound,That prone he tumbles lifeless to the ground.
The knight of Aglant now has couch’d his spear,
Where closely prest the men and arms appear:
First one, and then another, helpless dies;
Thro’ six at once the lance impetuous flies,
And in the seventh inflicts so deep a wound,
That prone he tumbles lifeless to the ground.
Hoole.
Hoole.
Thus by some standing pool or marshy place,We see an archer slay the croaking raceWith pointed arrow, nor the slaughter leave,Till the full weapon can no more receive.Hoole.
Thus by some standing pool or marshy place,We see an archer slay the croaking raceWith pointed arrow, nor the slaughter leave,Till the full weapon can no more receive.Hoole.
Thus by some standing pool or marshy place,We see an archer slay the croaking raceWith pointed arrow, nor the slaughter leave,Till the full weapon can no more receive.
Thus by some standing pool or marshy place,
We see an archer slay the croaking race
With pointed arrow, nor the slaughter leave,
Till the full weapon can no more receive.
Hoole.
Hoole.
Both Arcadians, but not equally skilled in singing.
What inconsiderate fellow, to terrify people, could first give the mournful name of tears to that wine which, above all others, renders the heart glad, and excites cheerfulness?
O illustrious memorial! O irrefragable truth! Come hither, ye heretics! come hither, and be astonished, and open your eyes to catholic and evangelic truth. The blood of St. Januarius alone is a sufficient testimony of the truth. Is it possible, that such a great and famous miracle does not convert all heretics and infidels to the truths of the Roman Catholic church?
’Sblood! it is still as hard as a stone.
Virtue crowns him after many great achievements.
All, all for the King’s amusement.
Surely.
Surely, surely.
I intreat you to forsake, as soon as possible, the corrupt coast of Baia.
A coast most unfriendly to modest maids.
Confections of Tivoli.
May Tibur, to my latest hours,Afford a kind and calm retreat;Tibur, beneath whose lofty towers,The Græcians fix’d their blissful seat.Francis.
May Tibur, to my latest hours,Afford a kind and calm retreat;Tibur, beneath whose lofty towers,The Græcians fix’d their blissful seat.Francis.
May Tibur, to my latest hours,Afford a kind and calm retreat;Tibur, beneath whose lofty towers,The Græcians fix’d their blissful seat.
May Tibur, to my latest hours,
Afford a kind and calm retreat;
Tibur, beneath whose lofty towers,
The Græcians fix’d their blissful seat.
Francis.
Francis.
The walls of the moist Tibur then flood,which was founded by the Greeks.
The walls of the moist Tibur then flood,which was founded by the Greeks.
The walls of the moist Tibur then flood,which was founded by the Greeks.
The walls of the moist Tibur then flood,
which was founded by the Greeks.
For little folks become their little fate,And at my age, not Rome’s imperial seat,...But Tibur’s solitude my taste can please.
For little folks become their little fate,And at my age, not Rome’s imperial seat,...But Tibur’s solitude my taste can please.
For little folks become their little fate,And at my age, not Rome’s imperial seat,...But Tibur’s solitude my taste can please.
For little folks become their little fate,
And at my age, not Rome’s imperial seat,
...
But Tibur’s solitude my taste can please.
When retired to the cool dream of Digentia, which supplies the cold village of Mandela with water; what, my friend, do you imagine, are my sentiments and wishes?
Pan from Arcadia’s heights descends,To visit oft my rural seat——Francis.
Pan from Arcadia’s heights descends,To visit oft my rural seat——Francis.
Pan from Arcadia’s heights descends,To visit oft my rural seat——
Pan from Arcadia’s heights descends,
To visit oft my rural seat——
Francis.
Francis.
But as a bee, which thro’ the shady groves,Feeble of wing, with idle murmurs roves,Sips on the bloom, and, with unceasing toil,From the sweet thyme extracts his flow’ry spoil,So I, weak bard! round Tibur’s lucid spring,Of humble strain laborious verses sing.Francis.
But as a bee, which thro’ the shady groves,Feeble of wing, with idle murmurs roves,Sips on the bloom, and, with unceasing toil,From the sweet thyme extracts his flow’ry spoil,So I, weak bard! round Tibur’s lucid spring,Of humble strain laborious verses sing.Francis.
But as a bee, which thro’ the shady groves,Feeble of wing, with idle murmurs roves,Sips on the bloom, and, with unceasing toil,From the sweet thyme extracts his flow’ry spoil,So I, weak bard! round Tibur’s lucid spring,Of humble strain laborious verses sing.
But as a bee, which thro’ the shady groves,
Feeble of wing, with idle murmurs roves,
Sips on the bloom, and, with unceasing toil,
From the sweet thyme extracts his flow’ry spoil,
So I, weak bard! round Tibur’s lucid spring,
Of humble strain laborious verses sing.
Francis.
Francis.
But me not patient Lacedæmon charms,Nor fair Larissa with such transport warms,As pure Albuneus’ rock resounding source,And rapid Anio, headlong in his course,Or Tibur, fenced by groves from solar beams,And fruitful orchards bath’d by ductile dreams.Francis.
But me not patient Lacedæmon charms,Nor fair Larissa with such transport warms,As pure Albuneus’ rock resounding source,And rapid Anio, headlong in his course,Or Tibur, fenced by groves from solar beams,And fruitful orchards bath’d by ductile dreams.Francis.
But me not patient Lacedæmon charms,Nor fair Larissa with such transport warms,As pure Albuneus’ rock resounding source,And rapid Anio, headlong in his course,Or Tibur, fenced by groves from solar beams,And fruitful orchards bath’d by ductile dreams.
But me not patient Lacedæmon charms,
Nor fair Larissa with such transport warms,
As pure Albuneus’ rock resounding source,
And rapid Anio, headlong in his course,
Or Tibur, fenced by groves from solar beams,
And fruitful orchards bath’d by ductile dreams.
Francis.
Francis.
Hither I, Apollo, have come, accompanied by the Muses. This shall henceforth be our Delphos, Delos, and Helicon.
The woods all thunder’d, and the mountains shook,The lake of Trivia heard the note profound....Pale at the piercing call, the mothers prestWith shrieks their starting infants to the breast.Pitt.
The woods all thunder’d, and the mountains shook,The lake of Trivia heard the note profound....Pale at the piercing call, the mothers prestWith shrieks their starting infants to the breast.Pitt.
The woods all thunder’d, and the mountains shook,The lake of Trivia heard the note profound....Pale at the piercing call, the mothers prestWith shrieks their starting infants to the breast.
The woods all thunder’d, and the mountains shook,
The lake of Trivia heard the note profound.
...
Pale at the piercing call, the mothers prest
With shrieks their starting infants to the breast.
Pitt.
Pitt.
The man in conscious virtue bold,Who dares his secret purpose hold,Unshaken hears the crowd’s tumultuous cries,And the stern tyrant’s brow —— —— defies.Francis.
The man in conscious virtue bold,Who dares his secret purpose hold,Unshaken hears the crowd’s tumultuous cries,And the stern tyrant’s brow —— —— defies.Francis.
The man in conscious virtue bold,Who dares his secret purpose hold,Unshaken hears the crowd’s tumultuous cries,And the stern tyrant’s brow —— —— defies.
The man in conscious virtue bold,
Who dares his secret purpose hold,
Unshaken hears the crowd’s tumultuous cries,
And the stern tyrant’s brow —— —— defies.
Francis.
Francis.
While Michael was forming this statue, shocked with the recollection of Brutus’ crime, he left his design unfinished.
I also am a painter.
Do you imagine there is but little difference between acting from feeling, as nature dictates, or from art?
I am the workmanship of Marcus Agratus, not of Praxiteles.
If they, who through the venturous ocean range,Not their own passions, but the climate, change;Anxious thro’ seas and land to search for rest,Is but laborious idleness at best.Francis.
If they, who through the venturous ocean range,Not their own passions, but the climate, change;Anxious thro’ seas and land to search for rest,Is but laborious idleness at best.Francis.
If they, who through the venturous ocean range,Not their own passions, but the climate, change;Anxious thro’ seas and land to search for rest,Is but laborious idleness at best.
If they, who through the venturous ocean range,
Not their own passions, but the climate, change;
Anxious thro’ seas and land to search for rest,
Is but laborious idleness at best.
Francis.
Francis.