THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE. THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE; O R. THE INFLUENCE OF SCENERY O N jfttrifc arid CI^MP" .- "-**&, The sounding Cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall Rock, The Mountain, and the deep and gloomy Wood, Their colours aud their forms, have been to me An appetite. Wordsworth. Rura inihi placeaut, riguique in vallibus amnes, Flumina amem sylvasque. Gearg. ii. 1. 4a5, VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, NO. 50, AMJEMAKJ.K-STRKKT. 1S13. J. M'Creery, Printer, Black-IIorse-Court, London. JO I /V v. 1HE following pages are the result of hours, stolen from an application to higher interests, and from the severity of graver subjects. They were written in the privacy of retirement, among scenes, worthy the pen of Virgil and the pencil of Lorrain: Scenes, which afford per- petual subjects for meditation to all those, who take a melancholy pleasure in contrasting the dignified simplicity of nature, with the vanity, ignorance, and presumption of man. " There is no one," says one of the 11 best and soundest moralists of our age, " there is no one, however limited his powers, who ought not to be actuated by a desire of leaving something behind him, which should operate, as an evi- dence, that he once existed." During those hours of peaceful enjoyment* in which these pages were composed, such was the ambition, by which the writer was animated. Upon revising what he has written, however, and comparing it with those ideas of excellence, which, in no very courteous language, whisper a knowledge of what abler pens, than his, would have written, on a subject, so well selected for eliciting all the best energies of genius, he is awed from any expectation of an honourable distinc- tion j and nothing supplies the place of Ill those golden dreams, which once de- lighted him, but the satisfaction of having passed, happily and innocently, hours, which would otherwise have been useless, listless, and unnumbered. THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE; OR, INFLUENCE OF SCENERY, &c. I. TACITUS gives a curious account of a pro- position, that was made in the Roman senate, to divert the course of those Rivers and Lakes which emptied themselves into the Tiber: and which, at certain seasons of the year, causing that River to overflow its banks, occasioned great loss to those citizens of Rome, who possessed houses and lands in its immediate neighbourhood.* Petitions being presented from the Florentines, the Interamnates and the Rheatines, against the proposition, it was abandoned. One of the causes of this abandonment arose out of an ar- gument employed by the Rheatines : " Nature," * One of these overflowings is particularly described by Pliny iu a letter to Macrintis. The accident gives occasion for a fine moral reflection. Vid. Lib. viii. Ep. 17. VOL. I. R they observed, " having made the best provision for the conveniences of mankind, in directing the course of rivers, it would be highly unbe- coming in the Romans to alter their direction; and the more so, since their allies had long been in the habit of consecrating woods, altars, and priests, to the Rivers of their country."* This curious and effective argument, my Lelius, will naturally call to your recollection a singular anec- dote, which was related to us by Signer Hypolito de Vinci, who has since so honourably distin- guished himself in the service of his country, and who fell, covered with wounds and with glory, in the battle of Vimiera, a martyr to his enthusiasm, and an honour to the human race. A celebrated Engineer, some years previous to the compulsory resignation of the late king of Spain, proposed to the Spanish Government a plan, which had for its object the rendering of the Tagus navigable to Madrid. After mature deliberation, the ingenuity of the Engineer, and the advantages derivable from his project, were acknowledged by the Ministry, but the execu- tion, in the plenitude of their wisdom, they thought * Tacitus, Annul. Lib. 1. c. 79. proper to decline.* On the Engineer's inquiring the cause of so extraordinary a refusal, they re- turned for answer, that if it had been the intention of nature, that the Tagus should be navigable so high into Spain as Madrid, she would have rendered it so herself; to presume to improve what nature had left imperfect, would be scanda- lous and impious ! II. " Where a spring rises or a river flows" says Seneca, " there should we build altars and offer sacrifices !" In pursuance of this idea, most nations, whether barbarous or refined, mistaking the effects of a Deity for the Deity itself, have, at one time or other of their history, personified their rivers, and addressed them as the Gods of their idolatry. The Nile, which watered nations that knew not its origin-, and kingdoms, which were ignorant whither it flowed, was worship- ped by the respective nations that it fertilized. -f- The Adonis was esteemed sacred by a great portion of western Asia ; the Peneus, as we are informed by that elegant Platonist, Maxim us Tyrius, was adored for its beauty, the Danube Note 1. t Note 2. B 2 for its magnitude, and the Achelous for its so- lemn traditions. The Phrygians worshipped the Marsyas and Meander ; and the Massagetae paid divine honours to the Palus Maeotis and the Tanais. The ancient Persians never polluted wa- ter; considering those who accustomed themselves to such indecorum, as guilty of sacrilege ; while the last wish of an Indian is to die on the banks of the Ganges. The affection of the Hindoos for that river is such, even at the present day, that many hundreds of them have been known to go down, at certain periods of the year, and devote themselves to the shark, the tiger, and the alligator; thinking themselves happy and their friends fortunate, thus to be permitted to die in sight of that holy stream. III. Rivers, too, have, in all ages, been themes for the poet; and in what esteem they were held by ancient writers, may be inferred from the number of authors who wrote of them previous to the time of Plutarch.* The Aufidus, the Tiber, and the Po, have been celebrated by Horace, Virgil, and Ovid ; Callimachus has im- * Note 3. mortalized the beautiful waters of the Inachus ; and while the Arno, the Miocio, and the Tagus, boast their Petrarch, Boccacio, and Camb'ens, the Severn, the Ouse, and the Trent, the Avon, the Derwent, and the Dee, have been distin- guished by the praises of many an elegant and ac- complished poet. Who is not charmed with Spenser's Marriage of the Thames and the Med- way? and what personifications in Ovid or He- siod are more beautiful, thati the Sabrina of Milton and the Ladona of Pope ? IV. On the borders of the Cam, Milton en- joyed the happiest moments of his life ; on the banks of the Ilyssus, Plato taught his System of Philosophy ; and on the shores of the Rocnabad, a river flowing near the chapel of Mosella, the poets and philosophers of Shiraz composed their most celebrated works. Ossian is never weary of comparing rivers to heroes, and so enamoured were Du Bartas and Drayton with river scenery, that the one wrote a poetical catalogue of those which were the most celebrated, and the other composed a voluminous work upon their History, Topography, and Landscapes.* * Note 4. V. Many of the rivers in Britain are highly picturesque, and abound in the most captivating scenery. Who, that has traversed the banks of the majestic Thames,* and still more noble Severn ; who, that has observed the fine sweeps of the Dee, in the vale of Landisilio, and those of the Derwent, near Matlock; who, that has contemplated the waters of the Towy, the grace- ful meanderings of the Usk, or the admirable features of the Wye, that does not feel himself justified in challenging any of the far-famed rivers of Europe to present objects more various, land- scapes more rich, or scenes more graceful and magnificent ? VI. Without rocks or mountains no country can be sublime ; without water no landscape can be perfectly beautiful. Few countries are more mountainous, or exhibit better materials for a landscape painter, than Persia ; yet, to the lover of scenery, it loses a considerable portion of inter- est, from its possessing but few springs, few rivu- lets, and fewer rivers. What can be more grati- fying to a proud and inquisitive spirit, than tracing * Notes. rivers to their sources, and pursuing them through long tracts of country, where sweeps the Don, the Wolga, and the Vistula ; the Ebro and the Douro; the Rhine, the Inn,* the Rhone and the Danube ? or in travelling on the banks of the Allier, describ- ed so beautifully by Madame de Savign6 ; or of the Loire sleeping, winding and rolling, by turns, through several of the finest districts in all France ? where the peasants reside, in the midst of their vineyards, in cottages, which, seated upon the sides of the hills, resemble so many birds' nests ; and where the peasant girls, with their baskets of grapes, invite the weary traveller to take as many as he desires. " Take them," say they, " and as many as you please: they shall cost you no- thing." VII. What traveller, possessing an elegant taste, but is charmed, even to ecstasy, as he wanders along the banks of the Po, the Adige, and the Brenta; amid the fairy scenes of the Eurotas, peopled with innumerable swans; or of the Tay, the Clyde, and the Teith, where the culture of Bees forms a considerable article of rural Eco- * Note 6. 8 nomy? How is our fancy elevated, when we traverse, even in imagination, those wild solitudes and fruitful deserts, enlivened by the Humming Bird,* through which the Orionoco, the Missis- sippi, and the Amazon, (Rivers to which the proudest streams of Europe are but as rivulets), pour their vast floods, and, as they roll along, ex- perience the vicissitudes of every climate ! And, when leaning on the parapet of an arch, bestriding a wide and rapid river, how often do we relapse into profound Melancholy, as, following, with im- plicit obedience, the progressive march of asso- ciation, the mirror of Time and the emblem of Eternity are presented to our imagination, till a retrospect of the past and a perspective of future ages, mingling with each other, the mind is lost in the mazes of its own wanderings !f VIII. Not only Rivers, but FOUNTAINS have been held sacred by almost every nation : equally are they beloved by the Poets. Who has not perused, with pleasure, Sannazaro's ode to the Fountain of Mergillini ; Petrarch's addresses to that of Vaucluse; and Horace's ode to the * Note 7. f Note 8. Fountain of Blandusium, situated among rocks, and surrounded with wood? One of the most remarkable fountains, in an- cient times, was that of which Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus have transmitted an account. It was called " the Fountain of the Sun," and was situated near the temple of Jupiter Ammon. At the dawn of day this fountain was warm ; as the day advanced, it became progressively cool ; at noon, it was at the extremity of cold ; at which time the Ammonians made use of it to water their gardens and shrubberies. At the setting of the Sun, it again became warm, and continued to increase, as the evening proceeded, till midnight, when it reached the extremity of heat : as the morning advanced it grew progressively cold : Silius Italicus thus alludes to it. Stet fano vicina, novum et memorabile lympha, QUIP nascente die, quae deficiente tepescit, Quaeque riget medium cam Sol ascendit Olyinpum Atque eadein rursus nocturnis fervet in umbris. IX. In the early ages of popery, the common people, where Fountains and Wells were situated 10 in retired places, were accustomed to honour them with the titles of Saints and Martyrs.* Some were called Jacob's Well ; St. John's ; St. Mary's; St. Winifred's, and St. Agnes' : some were named after Mary Magdalen, and others derived their appellations from beautiful and pious Virgins.-f- Though this custom was forbidden by the Canons of St. Anselm, many pilgrimages continued to be made to them ; and the Romans long retained a custom of throwing nosegays into fountains, and chaplets into wells.;}; From this practice origi- nated the ceremony of sprinkling the Severn with flowers, so elegantly described by Dyer, in his rinely descriptive poem of the Fleece,^ and so beautifully alluded to by Milton. The Shepherds at their festivals Carol her good deeds loud in rustic lays,|| And throw sweet garland-wreaths into her stream, Of paucies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. Comus. A custom also prevailed in the 14th Century, among the women who resided upon the banks * Note 9. t Note 10. f Note 11. Book i. 1. 693. || Sabrina's. 11 of the Rhine, of assembling, on a particular day of the year, to wash their hands and arms in that river : fondly flattering themselves, that such lustrations would preserve them from all dangers and misfortunes during the remainder of the year.* X. The names of Deities were given also to GROTTOS. The serenity of an Italian sky served to render those occasional retreats peculiarly agreeable to the Roman Nobility ; hence were they frequently to be found in the shrubberies and gardens of that accomplished people. The Poets, at all times willing to celebrate whatever adds to their enjoyments, have left us some elegant descriptions of those delightful recesses, formed in the sides of rocks, at the foot of mountains, or on the banks of rivulets.f Pausanias gives a remarkable account of a Grotto at Corycium, and Statius describes an elegant one in his third Sylva ; but that which was the most celebrated in ancient times, was the Grotto of Egeria ; still existing, though in a Note 12. f Note 13. 12 state of ruin. When it was first made by Numa, it was formed with such skill, as to appear totally untouched by art : in the reign of one of the Emperors, however, it entirely lost its simpli- city, and, by being adorned with marble and other splendid ornaments, acquired a magnificence to- tally foreign to its original character. This pro- voked the Satire of the indignant Juvenal.* The Grotto, which Mr. Pope formed at Twick- enham, was one of the most celebrated ever erect- ed in this kingdom. In the first instance, it was remarkable for its elegant simplicity : as the owner, however, advanced in years, it became more and more indebted to the refinements of art; but the recollection of its having amused the last years of that illustrious poet, atones to the heart of the philanthropist, what it loses to the eye of imagination and taste. f XI. From Rivers, Fountains, and Grottos, let us turn to LAKES. Those of England and Swit- zerland present so many features of beauty and grandeur, that an idea of something peculiarly * Sat. 11. f Note 14. 13 worthy of admiration always presents itself, when we hear them mentioned even in the most casual manner. What enthusiastic emotions of delight did the Lakes of Switzerland generate in Rous- seau ! And while some of the most agreeable hours of united labour and pleasure were indulged by Gibbon on their admirable banks, the noble landscapes, around the lake of Zurich, soothed and charmed many an hour of sorrow and chagrin from the bosoms of Haller, Zimmermann, and Lavater ! For my own part, my Lelius, I am ready to con- fess, that some of the happiest moments of my life, have been those, which I have, at intervals, past upon the bosom of lakes, and on the banks of wild and rapid rivers. And never will Colonna wish to forget those hours of rapture, when, reclining in his boat, he has permitted it to glide, at the will of the current, along the transparent surface of a river, or on the picturesque expanse of Bala Lake, in the county of Merioneth : or when wandering along the banks of those waters, that glide at the feet or stud the sides of the mountains, which rear themselves around the mag- nificent peaks of Snowdon : Lakes equal in beauty J4 and sublimity to those of Larus, Lucerne, and Pergusa. XII. How often have I heard you, my Lelius, descant with rapture, on the Lakes of Cumber- land and Westmoreland ; on those of Loch- Lo- mond, Loch-Leven, and Killarney ; and the still more noble and magnificent ones of Switzerland ! With what delighted attention have I listened to your descriptions of the Lakes of Thun, Zurich, and Neufchatel, Brientz, Bienne, and Constance : and how has my imagination kept pace with you in your journey, as you have wandered in memory among those enchanting regions ; regions, abounding in scenes, which Warton might have pictured, as the native residence of poetic Fancy. XIII. From Lakes, the transition is natural, that would lead to WATERFALLS and CATA- RACTS. With what rapture does every cultivated mind behold that beautiful waterfall, gliding over a slate rock in two graceful falls, at the extremity of a long, winding, and romantic glen, near Aber, in the county of Caernarvon ! But if you would see Cataracts on a grander scale, visit the Falls of the Hepsey, those of the Conway, the Cynfael, 15 and the Black Cataract near the vale of Ffesti- niog.* Of the two last, nothing can surpass the beauty of the one, or the bold, the cragged and gi- gantic character of the other. By the former of these has Colonna devoted many a captivating hour. Seated on a rock, adjoining an ivy-arch- ed bridge, stretched over a tremendous chasm, he has listened with rapture, not unmingled with a grateful degree of terror, to the roaring of the waters and, shaded by a fantastic oak ; which overshadows the depth, he has derived the highest satisfaction in comparing the tranquil and innocent delight, in which he was indulging, with the boisterous humours of the table, the can- kered anxiety of the statesman, or the dreadful raptures of that MAN, who has so long insulted all Europe, and stained her glens, her moun- tains, and her valleys, with blood, with rapine, and with sacrilege ! XIV. But if you would behold one of those waterfalls, which combine the utmost sublimity * And yet, what are these to the Cataracts of the Rhine, the Nile, the Vologda, the Zava, the Velino, or those at Powerscourt, at Albany, and Niagara? 16 with the greatest portion of beauty, visit the ad- mirable instance at Nant Mill, on the borders of the Lake Cwellin. Exercise that fascinating art, of which nature and practice have made you such a master; make a faithful representation of it; clothe it in all its rugged horrors of sublimity, in all its graceful charms of exquisite beauty, and let the finest imagination in the world of paint- ing or of poetry tell me, if, in all the fairy visions that the finest Fancy has created, a scene more perfect can be formed, than this ? The far- famed Cataract in the Vale of Temp6 has nothing to compare with it. In surveying this scene, our feelings resemble those of the missionaries, when viewing the numerous waterfalls of Japan ; or those of the celebrated Bruce, when he beheld the third Cataract of the Nile ; " a sight," says he, " so magnificent, that ages, added to the greatest length of life, could never eradicate from my memory." XV. If objects of this nature exalt the un- derstanding and the fancy of those, who possess habits of reflection, WOODS, those indispensable appendages to landscape, diffuse an equal de- light by their coolness, their solemnity, and the 17 charm, which they spread around us, as we wan- der beneath their arched and sacred shades. Akenside finely alludes to the religious awe, with which woods, boldly stretching up the sum- mit of an high mountain, are beheld by persons of a polite imagination. -Mark the sable woods, That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow. With what religions awe the solemn scene Commands your steps ! as if the reverend form Of Minos, or of Numa, should forsake Th' Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade Move to your pausing eye. Pleasures of Imagination. XVI. If to Rivers and Mountains all nations, at early periods of their History, have conspired to attach the idea of veneration, how much more so have the eminent in all ages delighted in pay- ing honours to WOODS, GROVES, and FORESTS. Pilgrimages were made to the oaks of Mamre, near Hebron, from the time of Abraham to that of Constantino ;* and the nations, surrounding the Jews, were accustomed to dedicate Trees and Groves to their Deities, and to sacrifice * Calmet, B. i. c. 7. VOL. i. c 18 upon high mountains ;* customs, which were even practised by the Jews themselves, previous to the building of the Temple of Solomon.-j- Among the woods of Etruria, Numa, to whom, (as Machiavel J justly observes,) Rome was under greater obligations than to Romulus, sought refuge from the cares, that attended the government of an infant and turbulent people : and, amid the groves of the Lyceum, Aristotle and Epicurus taught their systems of religion and politics. XVII. The oratories of the Jews were sur- rounded by olives ; and the Greeks, who first inhabited Tuscany, consecrated the forests, which rose on the banks of the Caeritis, to their God Sylvanus. Under those sacred shades they as- sembled every year to celebrate his anniversary. Et in gens gelidnm Incus prope Cceritis amnem, Religione patruin late sacer ; undique colles Inclusere cavi, et nigra nemus abjete cingunt. Sylvano fama est veteres sacrasse pelasgos, * Note 1 5. t 1 Kings, ch. iii. v. 2, 3, 4. ' t II Princip. 1. i. c. 11. Juvenal, Sat. vi. Arvorum pecorisque Deo, lucumque diemque, Qui primi fines aliqnando halm-re Latinos. Eneid, lib. viii. 1. 597. A custom, analogous to this, prevails at the present day in some parts of Italy: particularly among the herdsmen and shepherds of Rhegio, who entertain the highest veneration for the wood, called Siha Piana, about three leagues from Parma. XVIII. The Rhaphaans of India selected spots, shaded by the Banana and the Tamarind, for their kioums ; while in the deep recesses of the most intricate forests, the ancient Druids of Gaul, Britain, and Germany, were accustomed to sacrifice to their Gods.* Virgil, who describes Elysium, as abounding in the most luxuriant gifts of nature, represents it as one of the highest en- joyments of the happy spirits to repose on flowery banks, and to wander among shady groves :-f- while the Icelanders believe, that on the summit of the Boula, a mountain, which no one has hitherto ascended, there is a cavern, which opens Note 16. t Eneid. vi. 673. C 2 20 \, to a Paradise in perpetual verdure, delightfully shaded by trees, and abounding in large flocks of sheep.* XIX. The Sicilians had, at one time, a great veneration for the chesnut tree, which grew in the region, called La Regione Sylvana : in Ota- heite, the weeping-willow is permitted to be planted only before the houses of the higher classes of the community: in Pennsylvania, churches are isolated in woods, and pulpits erected beneath the branches of oaks ;-f- while, among the Du- gores, there are sacred groves, in which every family has its appropriate place for erecting huts and offering sacrifices. ; In the Romish church, Palms are esteemed sacred even in the present times.3; The Temples of the ancient Greeks were mostly situated in groves ; and the Persians, who esteemed * Voyage en Iceland, 168. t Michaux's Travels, v. ii. p. 231. The Sliieks of Jues- rouan hold all their assemblies under the shades of trees. De Page. t Pallas's Travels in Rnssia. v. ii. 231. $ Note 17. 21 woods and forests the most proper for religious sacrifices, ridiculed their more accomplished neighbours, for building temples to their Gods, who had the whole universe for their residence.* XX. As Antigua is without rivers, so is Mo- rocco almost destitute of woods : hence it arises, that in that state, as in other warm climates, shade is esteemed the most powerful charm in every landscape. The inconveniences, arising from the want of it, gave occasion to Girolamo Fracastoro to write his curious poem of Syphilus. The shep- herd Syphilus was employed in watching the herds, belonging to Alcithous, king of Atlantis. One season, the rays of summer were so intense, that the angry shepherd, impatient under their influ- ence, with many impieties refused to offer up sacrifices to Apollo, and, in revenge, erected an altar to his. master, Alcithous. Stung with the indignity, Apollo infected the air with such noxious vapours, that the shepherd contracted a danger- ous and nauseous disease, which affected his whole body. His various attempts to conquer his ma- * Cicero de Leg. ii. 26. lady constitute the principal argument of the poem. XXI. It was on account of its shade, that the Gardens of Arden, the Paradise of the Arabian poets, were so enthusiastically celebrated; and Amytis, daughter of Astyages, and wife of Nebu- chodonosor, accustomed to the glens and woods of Media, sighed for their shades in the sandy soil of Babylon : hence were constructed those hanging gardens, which were the boast of Babylonian kings and the wonder of historians. The gardens of the Moors appear to have resembled those of the East, in no inconsiderable degree ; their walks were paved with marble ; their parterres shaded by orange-trees, and embellished with baths : the whole entirely walled round, and secluded from every eye. Such is that of Alcazar, at Seville, which, as a specimen of Moorish gardening, is visited by every traveller of information and taste. XXII. The manners and pursuits of the Pas- toral Arabs present something peculiarly gratifying to the imagination. The toils and privations which they undergo, in wandering from one pro- 23 vince to another, in quest of water and shade, is amply repaid by the festivity that ensues upon the discovery of a well or fountain in a shady grove. The manners of the Arabians assimilated, in a striking degree, with those of the Scythians the purity of whose morals has been so much cele- brated by Horace and by Justin.* Though the manners and morals of these wandering nations were so strikingly illustrative of each other, the similarity did not arise from any coincidence in regard to climate or scenery ; for, while the one roved from wood to wood, and from fountain to fountain, over pathless and scorching deserts, the others were, at all times, in the reach of shade, and, at intervals, pitched their tents in scenery, the like of which is scarcely to be paral- leled in all the globe. While the Arab sought shade, as one of the most agreeable luxuries of life, the Scythian and the Celt imagined the oak to be the Tomb of Jupiter ; and the Philosophers of Siam, who numbered five elements, added wood to the fourth. XXIII. To a native of Jamaica no luxury is " Note 18. 24 superior to that of walking among the odoriferous groves of Pimentos, that adorn the eminences, which form a barrier to the encroachments of the ocean ; and the Circassians, long and loudly cele- brated for the beauty and cheerful disposition of their women, quit their towns and cities in the summer, and erect their tents among their woods and val- leys, after the manner of the neighbouring Tartars. To an Hindoo, nothing is more grateful, than to walk among the cool recesses and shady vistas, formed by the arms of the Banian tree, which he esteems an emblem of the Deity himself. The Hindoo Bramins, whose placidity of disposition was, in some measure, the natural result of a total abstinence from animal food, reside, for the most part, in their gardens, which they cultivate with their own hands, and occupy their time in reading, in walking, and in reclining beneath the spread- ing boughs of their Banian trees.* XXIV. The use, which the poets have made of trees, by way of illustration, are moral and important. * Milton gires a fine description of this tree, which is the most luxuriant and beautiful of all trees. Fu/. Paradise Lost, Book ix. 1. 1100. 25 Homer frequently embellishes his subjects with references to them, and no passage in the Iliad is more beautiful, than the one, where, in imita- tion of Musaeus, he compares the falling of leaves and shrubs to the fall and renovation of great and ancient families. Illustrations of this sort are frequent in the sacred writings. " I am exalted like a cedar in " Libanus," says the author of Ecclesiastes, "and " as a cypress tree upon the mountain of Hermon. " I was exalted like a palm tree in Engeddi, and " as a rose plant in Jericho ; as a fair olive in a ' pleasant field, and grew upas a plane tree by the " water ; as a turpentine tree I stretched out my " branches, and my branches are the branches of " honour and grace ; as a vine brought I forth plea- " sant savour, and my flowers are the fruits of ho- V nour and victory." In the Psalms, in a fine vein of allegory, the vine tree is made to represent the people of Israel : " Thou hast brought a vine out " of Egypt ; thou hast cut out the heathen, and " planted it. Thou didst cause it to take deep root, " and it filled the land. The hills were covered " with its shadow, and the boughs thereof were 26 " like the goodly cedars. Why hast thou broken " down her hedges, so that all do pluck her ? The " boar out of the wood doth waste it, and the " wild beast doth devour it. Return, we beseech " thee, O God of Hosts; look down from heaven, " and behold and visit this vine, and the vineyard " thy right hand hath planted."* XXV. In Ossian, how beautiful is the following passage of Malvina's lamentation for Oscar : " I " was a lovely tree in thy presence, Oscar, with " all my branches round me ; but thy death came, " like a blast from the desert, and laid my green head " low ; the spring returned with its showers, but no " green leaf of mine arose."*f- Again, where old and weary, blind and almost destitute of friends, he compares himself to a tree, that is withered and decayed. " But Ossian is a tree, that is " withered ; its branches are blasted and bare ; no " green leaf covers its boughs : from its trunk no " young shoot is seen to spring ; the breeze whistles " in its grey moss ; the blast shakes its head of age ; " the storm will soon overturn it, and strew all its * Note 19. f Poem of Croma. 27 " dry branches with thee, Oh Dermid, and with all " the rest of the mighty dead, in the green winding " vale of Cona." XXVI. That traveller esteemed himself hap- py, who first carried into Palestine the rose of Jericho from the plains of Arabia; and many of the Roman nobility were gratified, in a high degree, with having transplanted exotic plants and trees into the orchards of Italy. Potnpey intro- duced the ebony, on the day of his triumph over Mithridates;* Vespasian transplanted the balm of Syria, and Lucullus the Pontian cherry. Auger de Busbeck brought the lilac from Constantinople ; Hercules introduced the orange into Spain ; Ver- ton the mulberry into England :-f- and so great is the love of nations for particular trees, that a traveller never fails to celebrate those, by which his native province is distinguished. Thus, the native of Hampshire prides himself upon his oaks j the Burgundian boasts of his vines, and the Here- fordshire farmer of his apples. Normandy is proud of her pears ; Provence of her olives ; and Dauphin6 of her mulberries ; while the Maltese * Pliny. 1. 12. 4. f A. D. 1608. fi8 are in love with their own orange trees. Norway and Sweden celebrate their pines Syria her palms ; and since they have few other trees, of which they can boast, Lincoln celebrates her alders, and Cam- bridge her willows ! The Paphians were proud of their myrtles, the Lesbians of their vines: Rhodes loudly proclaimed the superior charms of her rose-trees; Idumea of her balsams; Media of her citrons, and India of her ebony. The Druses boast of their mulberries; Gaza of her dates and pomegranates ; Switzerland of her lime trees ; Bairout of her figs and bananas ; Damascus of her plumbs; Inchonnaugan of its birch, and Inchnolaig of its yews. The inhabitants of Ja- maica never cease to praise the beauty of their manchenillas ; while those of Tobasco are as vain of their cocoas. The natives of Madeira, whose spring and autumn reign together, take pride in their cedars and citrons ; those of Antigua of their tamarinds, while they esteem their mammee sap- pota to be equal to any oak in Europe, and their mangos to be superior to any tree in America. Equally partial are the inhabitants of the Plains of Tahta to their peculiar species of fan palm ; and those of Kous to their odoriferous orchards. The Hispaniolans, with the highest degree of pride, 29 challenge any of the trees of Europe or Asia to equal the height of their cabbage trees towering to an altitude of two hundred and seventy feet ! Even the people of the Bay of Honduras have imagination sufficient to conceive their log- wood to be superior to any trees in the world; while the Huron savages inquire of Europeans, whether they have any thing to compare with their immense cedar trees. XXVI. So natural is this love of mankind, that the ancients conceived even their Gods to be partial to one tree more than any other. For this rea- son, the statues of Diana, at Ephesus, were made of cedar and ebony ; that of Apollo, at Sicyone, of box ; while in the temple of Mercury, on Mount Cyllene, his image was formed of citron, a tree which he was supposed to hold in high estima- tion. England may well take pride in her oaks ! To them is she indebted for her existence as a nation; and, were we an idolatrous people, I should be almost tempted to recommend, (in imitation of our Druidical ancestors, who paid di- so vine honours to the misletoe),* that the oak be received in the number of our Gods. It is a curious circumstance, my Lelius, and not gene- rally known, that most of those oaks, which are called spontaneous, are planted by the Squirrel. This little animal has performed the most essential service to the English Navy. Walking, one day, in the woods belonging to the Duke of Beaufort, near Troy-house, in the County of Monmouth, Colon- na's attention was diverted by a squirrel, which sat very composedly upon the ground. He stopped to observe his motions. In a few minutes, the squir- rel darted, like lightning, to the top of a tree, be- neath which he had been sitting. In an instant he was down, with ao acorn in his mouth, and began to burrow in the earth with his hands. After digging a small hole, he stooped down, and deposited the acorn : then covering it, he darted up the tree again. In a moment he was down with another, which he buried in the same manner. This he continued to do, as long as Colonna thought proper to watch him. The industry of this little animal is directed to the purpose of securing him against * Note 20. 31 want in the winter ; and, as it is probable, that his memory is not sufficiently retentive to enable him to remember the spots in which he deposits every acorn, the industrious little fellow, no doubt, loses a few every year. These few spring up, and are destined to supply the place of the parent tree ! Thus is Britain, in some measure, indebted to the industry and bad memory of a squirrel, for her pride, her glory, and her very exist- ence ! XXVIII. Not only woods, fountains, and rivers, but MOUNTAINS, have had a sacred character at- tached to them. Upon their summits, the Jews,* the Persians,f the Bithynians, the infidel nations around Palestine,^ and the Druids of Gaul, Britain, and Germany,|| were accustomed to sacrifice : and, while the Celts conceived, that the spirits of their heroes resided among the clefts of the rocks,^f and on the tops and sides of the mountains, the natives of Greenland believed St John, ch. iv. v. 20. f Herodotus Clio. c. 131. t Deut. ch. xii. v. 2, 3, 4. $ Czesar de Bell. Gall. lib. 4 H Tacitus de Germ. Mor. ff Ossian, Songs of Selma. 32 them to be the immediate residence of their Deities.* XXIX. The Greeks coincided, in a great de- gree, with this idea ; and it was an opinion sanction- ed by many of their poets and philosophers, among whom we may instance Plato, Homer, and Strabo, that, after the Deluge of Deucalion, the inhabitants of the earth resided, for a long time, on the tops of the mountains, whence they gradually descended into the vales and valleys below: grounding their preference, not more upon their comparative security from future inun- dations, than upon the sacred character of those lofty eminences. Of those mountains, three had the honour of giving general names to the Muses ; and Mount Athos still retains such an imposing aspect, that the Greeks of modern ages have erected upon it a vast number of churches, mo- nasteries, and hermitages, which are frequented by devotees of both sexes without number. Hence it has acquired the title 'of the Holy Mountain,-^ an appellation which has been, also, given to the Skirrid, in the county of Monmouth, by religious * Note 21. f Note 22. 33 catholics in the West of England, most of whom en- tertain an ardent desire of having a few moulds from that craggy eminence sprinkled over their coffins : while great numbers of pilgrims resort to the promontory near Gaeta, a small piece of which Italian seamen wear constantly in their pockets to preserve them from drowning. XXX. What has been observed of Mount Athos, is equally applicable to Mount Tabor, near the city of Tiberias ; a great number of churches and monasteries having been built upon it. This is the mountain, on which St. Peter said to Christ, " It is good for us to be here ; and " let us make three Tabernacles ; one for thee ; " and one for Moses ; and one for Elias."* The view from this fine summit is represented to be so exceedingly various and magnificent, that the spectator experiences all those sensations, which are produced by a mixture and rapid suc- cession of varied and gay, gloomy and majes- tic objects.*)- What a contrast does this line Note 23. f Mariti's Travels, vol. ii. p. 263. Shaw's Travels in Syria and the Holy Land, p. 234. VOL. 1. D 34 eminence exhibit to that of the Norwegian mountain of Filefield, covered with eternal snow ; where neither a house, nor a cottage, nor a hut, nor a tree; neither a shrub, nor a flower, nor a human being, are ever to be seen ! The Jews were accustomed to bury their dead on the sides of mountains ;* Moses received the Law on the top of Sinai; and so holy was that mountain esteemed, that no one but him- self was permitted to touch it.f The Messiah frequently took his disciples up to the top of a high mountain to pray; there it was he transfigured before them,J and many of the incidents recorded in Scripture took place in the garden and on the Mountain of Olives. * Judges, ch. U. v. 9. Joshua, ch. xxiv. v. 32, 33. Such is the practice, I believe, in the present day, where there are mountains. The Jewish burying-ground at Montjuich (supposed to be a corruption of Mows Judaicus), near Barce- lona, is thus situated. t Exodus, ch. xix. v. 12. Hebrews, ch. xii. v. 20. $ Mattli. xvii. v. 1, 2. Luke ix. v. 28. Matth. xxiv. v. 3. Mark xiii. v. 3. Luke xxii. v. 39. Mark xiv. v. 26. Matt. xxvi. v. 30. The Scripture writers frequently call high mountains " The Mountains of God.'' Vid. 35 A country, destitute of mountains, may be rich, well cultivated, elegant and beautiful, but it can in no instance be grand, sublime, or transporting ; and to what a degree boldness of scenery has the power of elevating the fancy may be, in some measure, conceived from an anecdote, recorded of an epic and descriptive poet. When Thom- son heard of Glover's intention of writing an epic poem, the subject of which should be Leonidas of Sparta, " Impossible !" said he, " Glover can never be idle enough to attempt an epic ! He never saw a mountain in his life !" XXXI. Petrarch had long wished to climb the summit of Mount Venoux, a mountain presenting a wider range of prospect, than any among the Alps or Pyrenees. With much difficulty he ascended. Arrived at its summit, the scene pre- sented to his sight was unequalled ! After taking a long view of the various objects, which lay stretched below, he took from his pocket a vo- lume of St. Augustine's Confessions : and, opening the leaves at random, the first period that caught Vid. Joel, cb. iii. v. 17. Obadiah v. 17. Micah, ch. iv. v. .. The Sermon on the Mount was delivered on the hill, now called the " Mount of the Beatitudes." D 2 36 his eye was the following passage: " Men travel far to climb high mountains, to observe the majesty of the ocean, to trace the sources of rivers but they neglect themselves." Ad- mirable reasoning ! conveying as admirable a lesson ! Instantly applying the passage to him- self, Petrarch closed the book, and falling into profound meditation, " If," thought he, " I have undergone so much labour in climbing this mountain, that my body might be the nearer to heaven, what ought I not to do, in order that my soul may be received in those immortal re- gions." Let us, my Lelius, while climbing any of our British Alps, be visited by similar reflec- tions, and be actuated by similar resolutions ! XXXII. Though the view of mountains serve to elevate the mind, the inhabitants of those regions are, undoubtedly, more prone to rapine and to war- like enterprise, than the inhabitants of vales.* This arises from the austerity of their climate and the comparative poverty of their soil; but this remark, though true, when generally applied, is not always so in particular. For though, in the time of Cesar, the Helvetii, inhabiting that part * Note 24. 37 of Switzerland, lying round the Lake of Geneva, were the most warlike people of Gaul ; yet they were not more so than the Parthians, who were natives of unexplored deserts. The As- syrians and the Chaldees, both originally de- scended from the mountains of Atouria, with the Persians, inhabiting a country abounding in hills, were those people the most remarkable for having established extensive empires ; yet we must not infer from thence, that their conquests arose from that severe energy, which is imbibed from the keen air of mountainous regions, since we find people, residing in plains, acquiring em- pires equally extensive. The Arabians, for in- stance, so remarkable for their conquests during the middle ages ; the Egyptians, in more remote times ; the Tartars, who subjected China ; and the Romans, who conquered not so much by the sword, as by the arts : for it was the severity of their discipline, and not the severity of the Apen- nines, which subdued the world; of all their nume- rous legions, not one-tenth, in the time of Augustus or of Trajan, had ever breathed the air of Italy. XXXIII. The most picturesque parts of Asian Tartary are those in the neighbourhood of the 38 Armenian and Ararat mountains, on which the ark is said to have rested. This celebrated emi- nence, on the top of which stand several ruins, rises in the form of a pyramid, in the midst of a long extended plain. It is always covered with snow from its girdle to the summit, and for several months of the year is totally enveloped by clouds. What scenes in Russia are comparable to those in the neighbourhood of the Oural and Riphean mountains? which the inhabitants, in all the simplicity of ignorance, believe to en- compass the earth ; in the same manner, as the Malabars imagine the sun to revolve round the largest of theirs. Where does the Spaniard behold nobler landscapes, than at the feet and be- tween the sides of the Blue Ridge, that back the Escurial ; among the wilds of the Asturias, or among the vast solitudes of the Sierra Morena ? With what feelings of awe does the Hungarian approach the Carpathian Mountains, that separate him from Gallicia ! and with what joy and ad- miration does an African traveller, long lost ' O among deserts and continents of sand, hail the first peak, that greets his sight, among the moun- tains of the moon ! Can the American painter rest on finer scenes, than those, which are exhibited among the Glens of the Laurel, the Blue-ridge, the Cumberland and Allegany Mountains ? And where, in all the vast continent of the western world, shall the mind acquire a wider range of idea, more comprehensive notions of vastness and infinity, than on the tops of the Cordilleras and the Andes;* or on those uninhabitable ranges of mountains, which stretch from the river of the west to within a few degrees of the northern circle ? XXXIV. What a sensible gratification, and what interesting reflections were awakened in the mind of the celebrated Cook, when standing upon one of the mountains, that commanded almost the whole of the beautiful island of Eooa, in the southern ocean ! This view is one of the most de- lightful that can possibly be imagined. " While I was surveying this prospect, (says the bene- volent navigator), I could not help flattering my- self with the pleasing idea, that some future voyager may, from the same station, behold these meadows stocked with cattle, brought to these Note 25. 40 islands by the ships of England ; and that the completion of this single benevolent purpose, independent of all other considerations, would sufficiently mark to posterity, that our voyages had not been useless to the general interests of humanity." XXXV. No one mounts a towering eminence, but feels his soul elevated : the whole frame ac- quires unwonted elasticity, and the spirits flow, as it were, in one aspiring stream of satisfaction and delight: for what can be more animating, than, from one spot, to behold the pomp of man and the pride of nature lying at our feet ? Who can refrain from being charmed, when observing those innumerable intersections, which divide a long extent of country into mountains and vales ; and which, in their turn, subdivide into fields, glens, and dingles, containing trees of every height, cottages of the humble, and mansions of the rich : here, groups of cattle ; there, shepherds tending their flocks; and, at intervals, viewing, with admiration, a broad, expansive river, sweep- ing its course along an extended vale; now en- circling a mountain, and now overflowing a valley; here gliding beneath large boughs of trees, and 41 there rolling over rough ledges of rocks : in one place concealing itself in the heart of a forest, under huge massy cliffs, which impend over it; and in another, washing the walls of some ivied ruin, bosomed in wood ! XXXVI. How beautiful are the reflections of Fitz-James, upon gaining the top of a precipice, whence he threw his eyes below, and beheld the crags, knolls, and mounds of Ben-Venue, the bare point of Ben-An, and the creek, promon- tory, and islands of Loch-Katrine !* From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptur'd and amazed ; And " what a scene were here," he cried, " For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! On this bold brow, a lordly tower; In thai soft vale, a lady's bower j On yonder meadow, far away, The turrets of a cloister gay; How blithely might the bugle horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn ! How sweet at eve, the lover's lute Chime, when the groves were still and mute ! And when the midnight moon did lave Her forehead in tlie-silver wave, Note 26. 42 How solemn on the ear would come The holy matin's distant hum : While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell, To drop a bead with every knell And bugle, lute, and bell and all, Should each bewildered stranger call To friendly feast and lighted hall. Scenes, similar to those, which gave rise to these reflections, whether observed at the rising or the setting of the sun, never fail to inspire us with feelings, which it were grateful to indulge and cultivate. If seen in the morning, they give a vigorous tone to the nerves, and prepare the mind to a willing and active discharge of its various duties; if in the evening, every object being mellowed by the declining rays of light, the soul acquires a softened dignity, and the imagination delights in pointing, with grateful anticipation, towards that mysterious world, to which the sun appears to travel in all its glory ! XXXVII. If towering eminences have the power to charm and elevate men, who are pursuing the milder occupations of life, with what rapture shall they inspire the hearts of those long, en- 43 compassed with danger, who, from the top of high mountains, behold the goal to which their wishes and exertions have long been anxiously directed! Zenophon affords a fine instance of the power of this union of association and admi- ration over the mind and heart. The Ten Thou- sand Greeks, after encountering innumerable diffi- culties and dangers, in the heart of an enemy's country, at length halted at the foot of a high mountain. Arrived at its summit, the sea un- expectedly burst, in all its grandeur, on their astonished sight ! The joy was universal ; the soldiers could not refrain from tears ; they em- braced their generals and captains with the most extravagant delight ; they appeared already to have reached the places of their nativity, and, in ima- gination, again sat beneath the vines, that shaded their paternal dwellings ! XXXVIII. On the other hand, the soldiers of Hannibal, shrunk back with awe and affright, when they arrived at the foot of the mountains, that backed the town of Martigny. The sight of those enormous rampires, whose heads, capped with eter- nal snow, appeared to touch the heavens, struck a sen- sible dejection on the hearts of the soldiers. It was in the middle of autumn ; the trees were yellow with the falling leaf; and a vast quantity of snow having blocked up many of the passes, the only objects, which reminded them of humanity, were a few miserable cottages, perched upon the points of inaccessible cliffs; flocks almost perished with cold ; and men of hairy bodies and of savage visages ! On the ninth day, after conquering difficulties without number, the army reached the summit of the Alps. The alarm, which had been circulating among the troops all the way, now became so evident, that Hannibal thought proper to take no- tice of it ; and, halting on the top of one of the mountains, from which there was a fine view of Italy, he pointed out to them the luxuriant plains of Piedmont, which appeared like a large map before them. He magnified the beauty of those regions, and represented to them, how near they were of putting a final period to their difficulties, since one or two battles would inevitably give them possession of the Roman capital. This speech, filled with such promising hopes, and the effect of which was so much enforced by the sight of Italian landscapes, inspired the dejected soldiers with renewed vigour and alacrity ; they sat forward, 45 and soon after arrived in the plains, near the city of Turin.* XXXIX. This celebrated march, performed at such an unfavourable season of the year, in a coun- try, rendered by nature almost inaccessible, has been the admiration of every succeeding age ; and many a fruitless attempt has been made to as- certain its actual route. General Melville, has at length settled the question. With Polybius in his hand, he traced it/row the point, where Hanni- bal is supposed to have crossed the Rhone, up the left bank of that river, across Dauphine to the entrance of the mountains at Les Eche/les, along the vale to Chamberry, up the banks of the Isere, by Coiiftans and Mouster, over the gorge of the Alps, called the Little St. Bernard, and down their eastern slopes by Aosti and Ivrea, to the plains of Piedmont, in the neighbourhood of Turing XL. On the Sixth of May, in the year * Polybius, 1. iii. 203. Livy, 1. xxi. 36. Plin. Proem. Lib. xxxvi. Siliiis Italicus. Lib. iii. t Life of General Melville, p. ll. Moore's View of Man- ners in Italy, Tol. II. 46 Eighteen Hundred, Napoleon, then First Consul of France (gaudens viam fecisse ruina,*) set off from Paris to assume the command of the army of Italy. On the Thirteenth, he arrived in the neighbourhood of Lausanne. Having reviewed his troops, he pursued his journey along the north banks of the lake of Geneva, and passing through Vevey, Villeneuve, and Aigle, arrived at Martinach, situated near a fine sweep of the Rhone, near its confluence with the Durance. From this place the modern Hannibal, (not more resembling that warrior in military talent than in perfidy,) passed through Burg, and St. Brenchier; and after great toil, difficulty and danger, arrived with his whole army at the top of the great St. Bernard. The road up this mountain is one of the most difficult, and the scenes, which it presents, are as magnificent as any in Switzerland. Rocks, gulphs, avalanches, or precipices, presented themselves at every step. Not a soldier but was alternately petrified with horror, or captivated with delight. At one time feeling himself a coward, at another, animated with the inspirations of a hero ! Arrived at the summit of that tremendous mountain, and anticipating no- * Lucan. Lib. i. 1. 146. 47 thing but a multitude of dangers and accidents in descending from those regions of perpetual snow, on a sudden turning of the road, they beheld tables, covered, as if by magic, with every kind of neces- sary refreshment ! The monks of St. Bernard had prepared the banquet. Bending with humility and grace, those holy Fathers besought the army to partake the comforts of their humble fare. The army feasted, returned tumultuous thanks to the Monks, and passed on. A few days after this event, the battle of Marengo decided the fate of Italy. XLI. To the eye and heart of the ambitious, how many subjects of inducement and delight do mountains present ! Who would not be proud to climb the summits of the Alps,* the Pyrenees, and the Andes ? Is there a Sicilian, who does not boast of Etna ? Is there a Scot, who does not take pride in celebrating Ben Lomond ? and is there an * The Description of the general Character of Alpine Scenery, by Silins Italicus, is a masterpiece ; and one of the finest passages in that unjustly neglected poet. Cnncta geln canaque oeternum grandine tecta, Atque zevi glaciem cobibent ; &c. &c. Lib. iii. 48 Italian, that is not vain of the Apennines ?* Who, that is alive to nature and the muse, would not be delighted to wander up the sides of the Caucasus, the cone of Teneriffe, or those beautiful moun- tains, situated on the confines of three nations, so often and so justly celebrated by the poets of ancient Greece ? and shall our Friend Colonna be censured for confessing, that the proudest moments of his ex- istence have been those, in which he has reached the summits of the Wrekin, the Ferwyn, and the cone of Langollen? or when he has beheld, from the tops of Carnedds David, and Llewellyn, a long chain of mountains, stretching from the north to the south, from Penmaenmawr to Cader Idrisr Snowdon rising in the centre, his head capt with snow, and towering above the clouds, while his immense sides, black with rugged and impending rocks, stretched in long length below ! XLII. During his continuance on Pen-y-Voel t Mr. Coxe, the celebrated Swiss traveller, felt that extreme satisfaction, which is ever experienced * Claudian, Lucan, and indeed almost all the Latin poets take a sensible pleasure in marking the characters of these cloud-capt eminences, the abodes of perpetual snow and the fruitful parents of a vast number of rivers. 49 when elevated on the highest point of the adjacent country. " The air," as that gentleman justly ob- serves from Rousseau, " is more pure, the body more active, and the mind more serene. Lifted up above the dwellings of man, we discard all grovelling and earthly passions; the thoughts as- sume a character of sublimity, proportionate to the grandeur of the surrounding objects : and as the body approaches nearer to the etherial regions, the soul imbibes a portion of their unalterable purity." In a note to this passage Rousseau ex- presses his surprise, that a bath of the reviving air of the mountains is not more frequently prescribed by the Physician, as well as by the Moralist. XLIII. Emotions of religion are always the most predominant in such elevated regions. Mr. Adams, when employed as minister plenipotentiary, from the States of America to the court of Berlin, visited the vast mountains, that separate Silesia from Bohemia. Upon the Schneegniten he beheld the celebrated pits, where the snow remains unmelted for the greater part of the year : upon the Risen- koppe, the highest pinnacle in Germany, he be- held all Silesia, all Saxony, and Bohemia, stretch- VOL. I. E 50 ed like a map before him. " Here," says he, " my first thought was turned to the Supreme Cre- ator, who gave existence to that immensity of ob- jects, expanded before my view. The transition from this idea to that of my own relation, as an immortal soul with the author of nature, was na- tural and immediate ; from this to the recollection of my country, my parents, and my friends."* XLIV. It is highly interesting to observe, what pride a mountaineer takes in his country. Mr. Coxe, travelling near Munster, was requested by a peasant to inform him what he thought of his country; and pointing to the mountains with rapture, he exclaim- ed, " behold our walls and bulwarks, even Con- stantinople is not so strongly fortified !" And Co- lonua never reflects, but with pleasure, on the self- evident satisfaction, with which a farmer, residing in one of the most inaccessible cliffs, near Ffestiniog, replied to his assertion, that England was the finest and best country in the world, " ah ! but you have no mountains, sir; you've got no mountains!" The Sicilian peasants, in the same manner, have such an affection for Etna, that they believe Sicily would not be habitable without it. " It keeps us Note vr. 51 warm in winter," say they, " and furnishes us with ice in summer." XLV. If we except mountains, nothing has so imposing an effect upon the imagination, as high, impending and precipitate rocks; those objects, which, in so peculiar a manner, appear to have been formed by some vast convulsion of the earth ; and I remember, my Lelius, few scenes, which have given me greater severity of delight, than those vast crags, which rear themselves in a multi- tude of shapes, near Ogwen's Lake ; at the falls of the Conway; at St. Go wen's Chapel in Pem- brokeshire, and the singular masses at Worm's Head, in the district of Gower. The first of these scenes is the more endeared to my fancy, from the following Ode having been written by La Rochefort, among its rude and sterile precipices. ODE. I. To th' Oak, that near iny cottage grew, I gave a lingering, sad adieu ; I left my Zenophelia true To love's fine power . I felt the tear my cheek bedew In that sad hour. E 2 52 II. Upon the mountain's side I stood, Capt with Rothsay's arching wood ; And; as I view'd the mimic flood, So smooth and still, I listen'd gaz'd in pensive mood Then climb'd the hill. III. " Adieu, thou wood embosom'd spire, " No longer shall my rustic lyre " In tender, simple notes respire " Thy tombs among; " No longer will it sooth thy choir, " With funeral song. IV. " The world before me; I must rove " Through Vice's glittering, vain alcove ; " Alas! as mid the world I move, " Shall I have time " To tremble at the name of love, " And speak in rhyme ?" V. Five years are past, since thus I sigh'd, Since to the world without a guide, My fortunes I oppos'd to pride ; Oh! time mispent! My pains are lost my talents tried With punishment ! 53 VI. Now to my hamlet I'll retire, Cur*d of every vain desire; And burning with the sacred fire, That charm'd my yontb; To love I'll dedicate my lyre, ' ^ And heaven-born truth. XLVI. When rocks are scattered among woods, covered with ivy, and peopled with animals, as in the celebrated pass at Undercliff,* nothing can be more embellishing to scenery, and nothing fasci- nates the imagination in a more vivid and impres- sive manner. Of all the rocks, which this Island can boast, few can compare with those, that alter- nately form the sides, the front screens, and the back grounds of the Wye. " There," says Mr. Gilpin, who has described the general character of this unequalled river with the skill and judg- ment of a painter, and with all the taste and genius of a poet, " the rocks are continually starting through the woods, and are generally simple and grand ; rarely formal or fantastic. Sometimes they project in those beautiful square masses, yet broken and shattered in every line, which is characteristic ' In the Isle of Wight, 54 of the most majestic species of rock. Sometimes they slant obliquely from the eye in shelving diago- nal strata; and sometimes they appear in large masses of smooth stone, detached from each other and half buried in the soil." These masses of smooth rock are those objects of nature, which most resemble the architecture of man. Some- times they rear themselves into vast natural amphi- theatres; at other times into rampires, with all the regularity of immense walls ; and with no herb- age, no hanging masses of shrubs, no ivy adorning their crevices, they surprise, without delighting us. For, as the same elegant writer truly observes, no object receives so much beauty from contrast as the rock. " Some objects," says he, " are beau- tiful in themselves ; the eye is pleased with the tuftings of a tree ; it is amused with pursuing the eddying of a stream ; or it rests, with delight, on the broken arches of a gothic ruin. Such objects, in- dependent of composition, are beautiful in them- selves. But the rock, bleak, naked and unadorned, seems scarcely to deserve a place among them. Tint it with mosses and lichens of various hues, and you give it a degree of beauty ; adorn it with shrubs and hanging herbage, and you make it still more picturesque ; connect it with wood, water, and broken ground, and you make it in the highest degree interesting. Its colour and its form are so accommodating, that it generally blends into one of the most beautiful appendages of landscape :"* - where high rocks, o'er ocean's dashing floods Wave high in air, their panoply of woods; Admiring taste delights to stray beneath With eye uplifted, and forgets to breath; Or, as aloft his daring footsteps climb, Crests their high summits with his arm sublime. Darwin, c. 3. 1. XLVII. I shall never forget your enthusiasm, my Lelius, when we visited the chapel of St. Go wen, situated among those stupendous rocks, which, forming a semicircular area towards the sea, commands a noble prospect of the coast of Devon. The language, you employed on that interesting oc- casion, never can I be so base as to forget. " If our prayers are, at one time more acceptable than at another, it must assuredly be in those moments, when our souls are elevated by such scenery as this ! often have I been awed to devotion at Rome, and at Loretto, in the presence of Canons, Bishops, and Cardinals; but here, in the rude simplicity of Note 28. 56 nature, I feel my spirit separate, as it were, from the tenement, which has so long chained it to the earth, and wing its course directly up to heaven ! The magnificent area, in which this small chapel is situated, is a temple, more sublimely grand and affecting, than all the mosques of Turkey, and all the cathedrals of France, Italy, or Spain !" XLVIII. If towering and impending rocks, abrupt and gigantic mountains elevate the mind, and exalt it far above mortality, the woody dingle, the deep and romantic glen, the rocky valley, and the wide, the rich, the fascinating vale, associating ideas of rural comfort and of peaceful enjoyment, cheerful industry, robust health and tranquil hap- piness, draw us from subjects, too high for human thought, chain us to the earth, and enchant us with such magic spells, That Earth seems HEAVEN; and all around displays Such pleasing evidence of all that's good, That we would rather fascinate our eyes With such sweet beauty, than exalt our souls E'eu to the mansions of eternity. No country abounds more in those characters, in which Nature delights to speak to the imagina- 57 tion, than Greece. Her mountains were not more the theme of her poets, than her vales and her val- leys. In that fine country no vale was more cele- brated than that of Tempe : a vale, in which the peasants frequently assembled, in order to give en- tertainments to each other, and to offer sacrifices. Of this enchanting spot Pliny has given a de- scription in the fourth book of his Natural His- tory ; but .ZElian has left the most copious and ac- curate account of it. " Tempe," says he," is si- tuated between the mountains of Ossa and Pelion, which are the highest mountains in Thessaly, and are divided in this place, with a singular kind of attention. They enclose a valley five miles in length, but which in breadth, often does not ex- ceed an hundred feet. In the middle flows the river Peneus, which, at first, is little more than a cataract, but by the addition of many smaller streams, it at length assumes considerable magni- tude. Among the rich shrubs upon its banks, are various beautiful windings and recesses ; not the works of human bands, but of spontaneous nature, which seems to have formed every thing in this spot with the solicitude of a mother. A profusion of ivy is seen in all parts of the woods, which, with the vine, ascend the tops of the highest trees, 58 cling round their branches, and fall luxuriantly between them. The different species of convol- volus, which grow upon the sides of the hills, throw their white flowers and creeping foliage over the rocks ; while, in the vale, or wherever they can find a level surface, groves of all kinds, in venerable arches, or capricious forms, affords a cool and refreshing retreat. Nor are there wanting frequent falls of water, with the most pure and crystal springs, sweet to drink, and wholesome to the bather. The thrush, the wood- lark, and the nightingale, breed in the thickets, and, with their songs, shorten the way, and sooth the ears of the traveller, who finds, in every path, arbours and grottos, and seats of quiet repose. The Peneus still continues through the vale, idly, as it were, and with a glassy smoothness ; M'hile the depending boughs, which crowd over its surface, yield an almost constant shade to those, who na- vigate the river." . In this valley were united the extremes of the beautiful and the sublime : how beautiful, jlian has informed us ; how sublime, we may imagine, from what is related by Pliny, who assures us, that when the Roman army was marching over one of the passes, the soldiers were thrilled with 59 horror at the awful appearance of the rocks, and the thundering noise of the cataracts. The scene in England, which most resembles this celebrated vale, is the valley of Dovedale, in the county of Derby. This delightful spot wears an air of enchantment, which its transi- tions, caverns, rocks and recesses, continually keep alive to the eye ; while the imagination roves from scene to scene, and from transition to transition, with all the wild ardour of unsated curiosity,* L. In England, few are the vales, remark- able for picturesque effect. They are rich in wood, in meadow, in rural animals and in buildings; but they are destitute, for the most part, of rocks, of ruins and of mountains. None of them, therefore, can compare with the vales of Clwyd, Llangollen, or Ffestiniog; and they possess little, which will enable them to stand in competition with those of the Usk, the Towy, or the Glamorgan. Of these the Clwyd is the * The Tempe of Switzerland is a valley, in the Canton of Glarus, near the mountains of Freybourg, watered by the Unth. 60 most rich ; Llangollen the most picturesque ; Ffestiniog the most abounding in beautiful and sublime combination ; the Glamorgan the most rural ; but the Towy, by far, the most adapted for a tranquil and elegant retirement. LI. Who can behold, too, without surprise and pleasure, the romantic pass of CWM DYR, so finely contrasted, as it is, with the wild and un- cultivated aspect of the mountains, which back its foreground, studded M'ith cottages : here em- browned with wood, and there embellished with masses of rock ; affording one of the most ex- quisite specimens of placid mountain scenery, it is possible to behold !* Travel also, my Lelius, to the vales of the Dee, the Ebwy and the Rhydol; but if you \\ould select some sweet, some tranquil spot, in which, forsaking all the world, you would devote the remainder of your days to contemplation and delight, let that spot be the vale of Crucis, in the county of Denbigh. Surrounded on all sides by towering mountains, the vale of Crucis, secured from the northern blast by high and over-arching rocks, appears, as * Note 29. 01 Rousseau would have said, like an asylum, which nature had spared for two faithful lovers, escaped from the ruin and desolation of the world. There, my Lelius, will I promise you security and rest. There, forgetting all, that would re- mind you of this little scene, you would learn to estimate, at their true value, the pomp of folly, the ignorance of pride, and the littleness of grandeur. LIT. If, however, you would be sublimely cap- tivated, visit Nant Gvvynaut, at the foot of Snow- don, or the tremendous Glen of the Beaver's Hollow.* Range along those enormous crags, those fissured precipices, where the rocks rear themselves, in fantastic piles, even to the clouds, and where Nature, bold and rough, iu silent terror, sit* alone Majestic on her craggy throne. There rove, transported, among scenes so awful and sublime, that the breath is suspended, while * Nant Frangon. 62 gazing on their wonders : there, where the race of man appears to be extinct ; where not a tree nor a shrub, nor a cottage will remind you of humanity, and where no sound is heard, but the rushing of waters, the solemn roar of the winds, the cries of the eagle, or the screams of the kite. il 'Jill fane .aLiitt; In -*?:; t.-.njjt -.. .H LIU. Indulging in the contemplation of this scene, till all the faculties of the mind are sus- pended, pursue the windings of the defile ; and, after guarding yourself from the possibility of fall- ing from the margin of a precipice, stand upon its edge and cast your eyes below 1 A beautiful and romantic glen stretches at the bottom! No ! not, in all nature, can a scene more truly grand, or more exquisitely captivating, be seen than this! May he, who sees Nant Frangon, (" Beauty sleeping in the lap of Horror !") and sees it with indifference, stand, to eternal ages, at the bottom of the Glen, a marble monument of his baseness ! For my own part, my Lelius, I should have considered it a moral misfortune, as well as a moral disgrace, had I been capable of witnessing such a scene, with any other feel- 63 ings, than those of wonder and awe, astonishment and devotion : Rather than have felt Such vast, such matchless woe, Td rise a rock o'erspread with endless snow ! Or frown a cliff on some disastrous shore, Where ships are wrecked and tempests ever roar. Gruinger's Tibullus. UV. These are scenes, totally abandoned to the rude and matchless finger of Nature, and which man, excelling in the liberal arts, has never yet presumed to touch. Scenes, which admit of no conversation, and yet appear to have a soul, re- siding in them, which, animated by their charms, furnish recompenses, more than sufficient, for their silence and solitude. Speaking a language, clear and distinct in cause, various and powerful in operation, it is permitted the enraptured spec- tator to admire and to meditate, but not to speak : hence arises a soft and holy rapture, which, to a mind long accustomed to contemplate the im- becility of man, or to feel the benumbing influ- ence of all human causes of action, is as delightful as water, distilling from the leaves of the Foun- tain Tree, is to the palate of a traveller, whose 64 lips have long been parched with ungovernable thirst. LV. Such effects have scenes, like these, upon the mind and heart, that the poets and sacred writers, not unfrequently, imagine the hills and woods to become vocal ; and, participating in the delight, they impart, to lift up their voices in praise and gratitude. Thus vales are said to smile; woods to whisper; trees are fabled to have ears;* silence to have the feeling of plea- sure ;f and the sea, in a calm, lulling evening, as the waves recoil from the beach, is said to listen to its own roar. These metaphors are per- petual in poetry, and not unfrequent in common conversation. In reference to the imaginary qua- lities, with which we endow the various objects of landscape, the poets frequently address them- selves to those objects, as if they were capable of hearing and obeying the call. Thus Moschus, in his highly finished Elegy on the Death of Bion, calls upon the woods and fountains to mingle their sorrow with his ; and Milton, whose subject and whose genius sublimed him beyond * Horat. Od. xii. f Note 39. the limits of the world, and after whom, as John- son finely observed of Shakespeare, time toiled and panted in vain, has a transcendent passage in the Morning Hymn,* sung by our first pa- rents, where they call upon the visible creation to join with them in celebrating their great Father. After invoking the angels of light, the sun, the moon, the stars, the air, and the elements, Adam invites the mists and exhalations, the pines and plants, the \vinds and fountains, to accompany him in his devotions, and to be witness against him, if, at any time, he should neglect his morning r his evening orisons. LVI. Objects of Nature not only add to the repose of the mind, and tend to the restora- tion and preservation of health, but even to the more vivid enjoyment of the sensual faculties; for, it has been observed by the most eminent travellers, that those persons, who are the most ex- posed to the operations of nature, by leading rural and pastoral lives, are remarkably endowed with quick perceptions of smelling, hearing and seeing. Their organs acquire additional power * Note Si. VOL. i. F 66 from the temperature of the air, and from their almost continually being in sight of rural, rather than artificial objects. Thus, the Kalmuc Tartars possess an olfactory acuteness, nearly equal to that of dogs : by stretching themselves upon the turf, they hear the treading of sheep and the trampling of horses, at a great distance ; and see objects, clearly and distinctly, which a traveller has no power to discern, or, if perceived, only in a confused and indefinite manner. LVII. Not the larger objects of landscape only have the power of administering to our pleasure, but we shall perceive, that Earths and Stones, their component parts, possess the same facul- ty, if we begin by investigating the first princi- ples of Geology, and finish with the conclusion, that the entire substance of our globe is a metal- line, and consequently a combustible compound ! But the subject, I am aware, is uncongenial to your taste ; I shall, therefore, turn to the consideration of those natural Sounds, Perfumes and Colours, which, contributing with more or less effect, serve to increase those general sensations of har- mony, which we receive from the various objects and appearances of nature. 67 LVIII. Who has not listened, with satisfac- tion, to the song of the lark, the hum of bees, and the murmuring of rivulets ? Mecaenas was cured of continual watchfulness by the falling of water ; and Pliny relates an anecdote of a Roman nobleman, who would recline upon a couch be- neath one of his beach-trees, and be lulled to slumber by the falling of rain.* Ah ! who the melodies of MORN can tell? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the shepherd's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn among the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir, that wakes the universal grove. Minstrel. LIX. Of a fine summer's evening, too, how de- lightful is it to pause upon the side of the hill, which overlooks a favourite village, and listen to the va- rious sounds, which come softened by the distance ! Goldsmith has described sounds of this sort, in a passage, which, though frequently quoted, is never quoted or read without the liveliest pleasure. * Note 32. F 2 Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, - Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. There, as I passed, with careless steps and slow, The mingled notes came softened from below : The swain responsive, as the milk maid sung, The sober herd, that low'd to meet their young; The noisy geese, that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children, just let loose from school, The watch-dog's voice, that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh, that spoke the vacant mind : These all in soft confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made. Deserted Village. LX. If some sounds in nature are beau- tiful, many are there also, which assume the character of sublimity, and some, which partake of the nature of both. Such are those gentle breathings of the wind, after a violent storm, which Mr. Gray, with singular felicity, compares to the voice of an Eolian harp. Such, too, are those notes of apparent sorrow, which are, at intervals, heard from animals and birds ; " The wild-dove," says the Arabian poet, Serage Al- warackf " sooths me with her notes ; like me she has a dejected heart !" LXI. What lover of nature's music, but is charmed with the various notes and modulations of 69 our English singing birds ? The sweetness of the throstle ; the cheerfulness of the sky-lark ; the mellowness of the thrush, building near the mis- letoe ; the imitative talent of the bull-finch ; the varied and familiar language of the red-breast, endeared to us, from our youth, by so many agreeable associations ; the wood-lark, priding herself in being little inferior to the nightingale, and sheltering her home in lair-ground, under large tufts of grass to shelter her from the cold ; the vivacity of the wren, forming her nest with dry leaves and moss, among hedges and shrubs encircled with ivy ; the solemn cry of the owl ; and the soft note of the linnet, building upon heaths with roots, and among thorns with moss, and subject to the disorder of melancholy ! Not one of these birds breathes a single note, that is not listened to with pleasure : Happy commoners! That haunt in woods, in meads, in flowery gardens, Rifle the sweets and taste the choicest fruits, Yet scorn to ask the lordly owner's leave. Rowe. LXII. But what bird, or lute, or harp, or dulcimer, shall we compare with the notes of 70 the fly-bird of America, or the nightingale of Europe and of Asia ? The favourite bird of So- phocles and Tasso,* and the subject of many an Arabic and Persian allegory. Plinyf has de- scribed the effect of this bird's exquisite note with appropriate warmth ; and Walton, a writer of genuine feeling and classical simplicity, has celebrated it in the truest measure of applause : " He, that at midnight, when the very labourers sleep securely, should hear, as I have heard, the clear air, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, " Lord ! what music hast thou provided for thy saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music upon earth." LXIII. Kircher, in his Universal Harmony,^; * Odi quello usignuolo, Che va di ramo in ramo Cantando, To arno, To arno. Atnintm. Hear that sweet nightingale, Who flies from bough to bongh, Singing I love, I love. f Lib. x. c. 19. * Lib. i. c. 14. 71 endeavours to reduce the notes of the nightingale to a musical scale. But no instrument can suc- cessfully imitate this bird, though the human voice is capable of intonations equally sweet and equally touching. Seignour Greadagni b who enjoyed a considerable share of fame in England, about the year 1780, had tones as rich and as mellow as the nightingale. The effect of this singer over the mind, we are told, arose principally from his imi- tating an Eolian harp: unlike other singers, who affect a swell or Messa de voce, he diminished his notes from the beginning to the end, dying in soft murmurs; and giving his last whispers all the effect of distance, they seemed to ascend, till the sound was totally lost in the ecstasy of hearing, and though no note was heard, the ear listened, as if it expected a return.* LXIV. The practice of imitating birds is very common in Persia. Sir William Jones relates a curious circumstance in his Dissertation on the Musical Modes of the Hindus : " an intelligent person," says he, " declared, that he had more than once been present, when a celebrated Lu- Note 33. 72 tanist was playing to a large company, in a grove near Schiraz, where he distinctly saw the nightin- gale trying to vie with the musician ; sometimes warbling on the trees, sometimes fluttering from branch to branch, as if they wished to approach the instrument, and, at length, dropping on the ground in a kind of ecstasy, from which they were soon raised by a change of the mood." Colonna once gave the Sergeant of a marching regiment five guineas to teach him the art of imitating birds; when, to his great surprise, he found the nightingale more easily to be imitated, than any of our principal choristers, except the black-bird. Alexander was once very much im- portuned to hear a person, who was capable of imitating nightingales with no common excellence: " I would do so," replied he, " if 1 could not enjoy the superior happiness of hearing the nightin- gale herself!" LXV. The poets, in all ages, have conspired in considering this bird a melancholy one : Qualis populea moerans philomela sub umbra Amissos queritur foetus, quas darns a rat or Observans nido implumes detraxit ; at ilia 73 Flet noctem, ramoqne sedens miserable carmen Integral, & moestis late loca questibus implet. Georg. Lib. iv. 1. 511. Another poet says, Dulces variat philomela querelas. Some one has observed, that she not only warbles among the branches of trees, but in those places, which are esteemed sacred : perhaps, how- ever, we are, by implication, to understand the poet's meaning to be, that she renders sacred every haunt she frequents. Qiiae virides umbras & loca sacra tenet. In variety of note, she does not exceed the sky-lark, yet the poets have said, potest vocum discrimina mille, Mille potest varios ipsa referre souos. LXVI. Of her melancholy no one has given a more exquisite description than Milton, who addresses her with such elegance in the most beau- tiful of all beautiful poems, // Penseroso. 74 Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy, Thee, chantress, oft the woods among I woo to hear thy evening song. So great a favourite was this bird with Milton, that he never omits an opportunity of celebrating its powers. What a sweet passage is that, in his fifth book of Paradise Lost, where Eve re- lating her dream to Adam, fancies him to have said, Why sleep'st thou, Eve ? now is the pleasant time, The cool, the silent, save where silence yields To the sweet night-warbling bird, that now, awake, Tunes sweetest her lone-labour'tl song. And again, where the earth and all its animal and feathered inhabitants give signs of gratulation at our parents' nuptials : Joyous the birds ; fresh gales and gentle airs Whispered it to the woods, and from their wings, Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, Disporting, till the amorous bird of night Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star, On his hill top to light the bridal lamp. These, lall'd by nightingales, embracing slept; 75 And on their naked limbs the flowery roof Showered roses, which the morn repaired.* So charmed was Thomson with this aerial music, that he would listen, hour after hour, of a fine summer's evening, to hear the nightingales in Richmond Gardens. LXVII. The nightingale, however, melancholy as she has been represented, is, in fact, a cheerful bird ; like the Lachryma Christi-^ of Italy, she is sorrowful only by name ; she sings by day, as well as by night, and is, as MartialJ calls her, the most garrulous of all our singing birds. Her notes, strong and sonorous, wild and mellow, are to the highest degree enlivening, when heard at highest noon ; and only pensive and melancholy, when all nature is lulled to repose, and our feel- ings are hushed to silence ; when every sound, whether of the woods, the distant chimings of a cathedral, or the rolling of remote waters, come, at intervals, on the ear, and produce nearly the * Note 34. f This wine, in complete opposition to its name, has the best flavour of any in Italy. \ Lib. xiv. Ep. 75. 76 same emotions, as the notes of the nightingale herself. It is from association, that she derives most of her powers of disposing the heart to melancholy impressions : cheerful and happy her- self, she has, aided by the gloom and silence of night, power to elicit tears from all, that listen to her warblings : like the infant, in an elegant Persian poem of Sadi, she smiles and is happy, while all around her are silent and sad. LXVTII. Of this bird, it is curious to remark, that it is not once alluded to by Homer or by Ho- race, both of whom embrace such a multitude of objects, and draw so copiously from the works of nature; and though the uninterrupted silence, which prevails amid the Scottish and Cambrian Glens, would afford her all the serenity, she could wish, she no where makes their rocks and valleys echo with her notes.* Of those sounds, which partake of a sublime character, what can be more truly so, than the falling of cataracts; the rolling of thunder; the shrieks and cries of marine birds ; or the roaring * Note 35. 77 of the woods at midnight, from which, as Lu- cretius observes, man first taught himself music :* the deep bowlings of the storm, occasionally sub- siding into a general hush ; or those analogous sounds, with little or no definite meaning, which Ossian calls the " spirit of the mountains ;" and to which Virgil alludes in his fifth Bucolic : Nam neque me tantum venientis sibilus Austri, Nee percussa juvant flurtu tarn litora, nee qua: Saxosas inter decurrnnt flmnina valles. Eel. v. 1. 8*. LXIX. Those intermittent sounds, too, which are heard among the clefts of desolate rocks, are equally gratifying to the ear of those proud and ele- vated spirits, who derive a sensible pleasure from all that is wild, grand, and magnificent. Nothing can be more productive of such sublime emotion, than the roar of the ocean against the stupendous rocks of St. Kilda, or the perpendicular cliffs of Pen- maenmawr: sounds, heard with equal effect, near the chapel of St. Mildred, where the rocks form themselves into immense Rampires, and where, in the dashing of the waves, the sea appears, as if it were captivated by the music of its own roar. * Note 36. 78 LXX. The fine semicircle, in which this cha- pel is situated, appears, in some measure, to resemble the bay of the sea, encompassed on three sides with steep and gigantic rocks, which the Swedes call Odin's Hall. In the times of gothic barbarism, as we are informed by a celebrated Swiss Philoso- pher, " men, who were either sick of diseases, esteemed mortal or incurable, or had grown infirm with age, and were past all military action, fearing to die meanly and basely, as they esteemed it, in their beds, usually caused themselves to be brought to the nearest of these rocks, whence they precipi- tated themselves into the sea; hoping, by the bold- ness of such a violent death, to renew their claim to admission into the Hall of Odin, which they had lost by failing to die in combat, or by arms." Carpini relates,* that, on the banks of the Tartarian seas, there is a mountain, which has a hole com- pletely perforated through the middle of it. In summer, the noise of the wind, issuing through this perforation, is a mild and gentle murmur ; in win- ter, such vehement tempests are heard, that few travellers venture to approach. There is, also, in New Zealand, a rock, with an immense opening * Travels into Tartary, c. xxiv. 79 through its entire body, forming a stupendous arch towards the sea. A similar perforation may be observed in one of the rocks, at Worm's Head, in the parish of Rosilly.* On the top of this rock is one of the sublimest scenes in that part of South Wales. Nothing can be more delightful than the sea, sleeping in the bay of Rosilly in summer, and nothing more terrific, than the roar- ing of the winds and the dashing of the billows in the season of winter. LXXI. Sounds, like these, heard among the lonely recesses of the Highlands, or on the shores of the Adriatic and Ionian seas, have had the effect of rendering the inhabitants alternately susceptible of the most exalted emotions of sublimity, and preys to the baneful horrors of superstition. Every one has read of the effects, which the Syrens are reported to have had on the seamen, voyaging near the Cape of Pelorus,-j- in the island of Sicily, whose vocal charms no one but Orpheus and Ulysses were capable of withstanding. This * Glamorganshire. t Now called Capo di Faro; Vid. Strabo. Lib. v. Virg. /En. lib. v. v. 864. 80 fable had, doubtless, a topographical allusion ; for, as Sandys observes, " Archippus mentions a cer- tain bay, contracted by winding streights and bro- ken cliffs, which, by the singing of the winds and the beating of the pillows, report a delightful har- mony, alluring those, who sailed by, to approach ; upon which they were thrown against the rocks by the waves and swallowed in violent eddies." LXXII. The inhabitants of picturesque coun- tries have always been remarkable for their love of the marvellous and the mysterious ; hence supersti- tion has long been remarked, as forming one of their distinguishing characteristics. There is scarcely a village, a grove, a fountain or a cavern, in the provinces of Gascoigny and Languedoc, that the peasants do not people with fairies. The natives of Savoy, of the Pyrenees and the Appenines, those, who inhabit Mount Taurus and the Cau- casus, also, indulge in those superstitions, which seldom fail to infest a mountainous country. The peasants of Wales and the Highlanders of Scot- land,* in the same manner, are remarkable for their belief in supernatural agency. * Note 37. 81 LXXIII. From objects and sounds, which produce superstitions like these, let us, my Lelius, turn to those lulling murmurs and agreeable sounds, heard, during a fine evening in summer, from the hum of insects, the distant tinkling of the sheep-bell, the melody of birds, and the wild music of the shepherd's pipe. Should you, at any time, be sated with those agreeable sounds, turn to the dingle and the glen and listen to their echoes. If you are distant from those at Llyn-y- Coe, a lake, surrounded by perpendicular cliffs, resembling the crater of a volcano, near Cader Idris ; if you chance not to be near the cavern,* under the Towers of Pembroke, there is scarcely a church-yard, a contracted green or a valley, that will not answer to your call. LXXIV. So singular and agreeable are the mysterious sounds, arising from the echo, that it is no subject for wonder, that the ancients, who embellished every thing, should touch that fasci- nating nymph with the wand of allegory. Echo, say the poets, was the daughter of the Air and the Earth ; she was one of the attendants of * Remarkable for its echo, and called the Wogan. VOL. I. G 82 Juno; but having displeased her haughty and im- perious mistress, she was deprived of her voice, and the power of giving a response alone remain- ed to her. Afterwards, it is said, roving among the woods and rivulets, she beheld Narcissus and loved him. Some of the poets relate the story in a different manner, and even change the cha- racter of sex. Hylas, says Theocritus, one day, going for water to quench the thirst of Her- cules, at the moment, he was filling his vase, the Naiads, who beheld him from the opposite bank, bore him away. Hercules wandered among the hills and forests in quest of him, and made each rock and valley echo with his name. The Naiads, fearing that Hercules would discover him in their fountain, changed him into an echo.* The poets, as well as the mythologists, have made a charming use of this mysterious nymph, for in spite of Theocritus, I am unwilling to be- lieve, that Echo was masculine. Bion, in his poem on the death of Adonis, introduces her in an ele- gant passage, which has been imitated by Cambens. Moschus too, in his Idyl on the death of his * Vid. Apollonins, Lib. iii. Virg. Eel. vi. 83 friend, beautifully observes, that Echo, on the death of Bion, roved among the rocks, still listening, as it were, to catch the last murmuring of his notes, and, since she listened in vain, became melancholy and silent. . :':: ifjor fair iplilMtred -^JsaJlbirts*/. 1 ) LXXV. Echoes reside, for the most part, in ruined abbeys, in caverns, and in grottos : they re- verberate among mountains,* whisper in the areas of antique halls, in the windings of long passages, and in the melancholy aisles of arched cathedrals. There is an ancient portico near the temple of Cly- menos, in the district of Cthonia, which repeats three times, on which account it is called " the Echo." At Woodstock there was one, which re- turned seventeen syllables during the day, and twen- ty in the night. In the sepulchre of Metella, the wife of Crassus, an echo repeated five different times in five different keys ; and Barthius, in hia notes on Statius, relates, that on the banks of the Naha, between Bingen and Coblentz, an echo recited seventeen times. He, who spoke or sung, could scarcely be heard, and yet the responses were loud * Note 38. 02 and distinct, clear and various ; sometimes appear- ing to approach, at other times to come from a great distance, much after the manner of an Eolian harp. Tn the cemetery of the Abercorn family, at Paisley, in the county of Renfrew, there is an echo exceedingly beautiful and romantic. When the door of. the chapel is shut, the reverberations are equal to the sound of thunder. Breathe a single note in music, and the tone ascends gradually, with a multitude of echoes, till it dies in soft and most bewitching murmurs. If the effect of one instru- ment is delightful, that of several in concert is cap- tivating, exciting the most tumultuous and raptur- ous sensations! In this chapel, lulled by etherial echoes, sleeps Marjory, the daughter of Bruce, the wife of Wallace, and the mother of Robert, king of Scotland. LXXVI. A singular echo is heard in a grotto, near Castle Comber in Ireland. No reverberation is observed, till the listener is within fifteen or sixteen feet of the extremity of the grotto : at which place a most delightful echo enchants the ear.* Does there exist any one, who has not heard of the Eagle's * Note 39, 85 nest, near Mucross Abbey, on the banks of the lake of Killarney? This celebrated rock sends forth the most fascinating repercussions. Sound a French or Bugle horn, echoes, equal to an hundred instruments, answer to the call ! Report a single cannon, the loudest thunders reverberate from the rock, and die, in endless peals, along the distant mountains! In Norway, upon the lake Ontario, in many of the West India Islands, the echoes are enchanting ; while among the Grisons there reigns an eternal silence: clothed in a winding sheet, not an echo repeats the fall of a torrent or the ruin of an avalanche ! LXXVII. Ossian calls echo, the Son of the Rock. The Highlanders believed, and do so to the present day, that the repercussions of a rock were made by a spirit, residing in its bosom.* Nothing can be more beautiful, than Ossian's address to the echo, in his poem of the battle of Lora. His * Hence they called it Muctalla, " the Son who dwells in the rock." Songs of Selma, Alpin in Notis. Shakespeare calls echo " the babbling gossip of the air." Twrtfth Night' Act i. tc. 5. ,86 .allusion to his own misfortune is highly natural and affecting. " Son of the distant land, who dwellest in the secret cell! do I hear the sound of the grove ; or is it the voice of songs ? But I heard a tuneful voice. Dost thou praise the chiefs of thy land ; or the spirits of the wind ? But, lonely dweller of rocks! look thou on that heathy plain. Thou seest green tombs with their rank whistling grass ; with their stones of mossy heads. Thou seest them, Son of the Rock, but Ossian's eyes have failed!" LXXVIII. Perceiving the agreeable effects of an echo upon the ear, in the music of nature, the poets, formed by her hand and guided by her pre- cepts, were proud to imitate her. Hence the origin of rhyme; and hence that species of verse among the Greek and Roman poets, which was charac- terized by the repetition of the last syllable. Faemina dira viri nex est, et terribilis lis. The Echoicus has not been much practised by the English, though it has been successfully culti- vated by the Spanish poets. While I am writing this, Harmonica is giving me an instance in music, 87 of what the Italians mark by the word ecco, bear- ing, as a musical writer has remarked, the sense of dolce, intimating, that such passage should be played with all the softness and piano of a gentle echo. Reverberations of sound were, doubtless, the causes of many of the apparent prodigies, re- lated by the Roman historians. Rome, being built upon several hills, must in consequence have been sensible of many repercussions; which may, in a great measure, account for the extraordinary noises, that are reported to have been heard in the city at particular crises ; and which were considered, by that superstitious people, as so many prodigies.* LXXIX. The etherial music of the echo na- turally recals to our recollection Plato's elegant idea, with respect to the harmonic movements of the planets, and which he terms the music of the spheres. This idea is not only elegant, but in all probability equally just. For, in observing the operative effects of moveable bodies, we find, that the flight of birds and of insects, the rushing of wa- ters, indeed every object, that moves, produces some vibrative sound. Observing these effects, Archytas, Pythagoras, and Plato, conceived it to be impossi- * Note 40. 88 ble, that bodies so large, and revolving in an orbit so extensive as the planets, should move their giant courses without some sensible repercussions : so that the heavens might be said to modulate, and to send forth that true harmony, at which the deities themselves might be delighted to listen : a harmony, as Maximus Tyrius observes, too trans- cendent for the imbecility of man ; and the excel- lence of which etherial beings are alone capable of appreciating. How beautifully does Shakespeare allude to this poetical idea in the scene where Lorenzo, in the Merchant of Venice, leads Jessica into the. grove, and, after desiring Stephano to order music to be brought into the garden, accosts her after the following manner : How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica ; look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold : There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, But in his motion, like an augel, sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim. Such harmony is in immortal souls. LXXX. But nature affords not satisfaction to 89 the eye and to the ear only, she administers, also, a sensible delight by the perfumes, which she scat- ters in every direction. Who, that can relish the fragrant odours of the hay-fields, the wild thyme of the heath, the roses and the woodbines, that deco- rate our hedgerows, and the violet, that scents the thicket, can lament the absence of the myrrh, the cassia, and the cinnamon, which were wont to charm the descriptive poets of Arabia ? " Call for wine," says Hafiz, "and scatter flowers around, what more canst thou ask from Fate ?" and Ma- homet, in the true spirit of his voluptuous creed, declared, that odours assimilated his soul with heaven. LXXXI. Few objects are more ravishing to the senses, than the perfumes of aromatics, or the more simple odours of the fields. These natural enjoy- ments rejoiced equally the heart of the wisest of men and the most odious of tyrants. Solomon was accustomed to write in the praise of essences, and the kings of Tunis to mingle them with their food. The Persians sprinkle their guests with roses and with jessamine ;* and while the natives of Hindostan address Iri, the eastern Minerva, with * Note 41. 90 offerings of flowers and odours, Vishnu is suppo- sed to be awakened by the following incantation : "The clouds are dispersed, the full moon will appear in perfect brightness, and I come, in the hope of acquiring purity, to offer up the fresh odours of the season. Awake from thy long slum- ber, Oh Lord of all worlds."* LXXXII. Perfumes give a soft and ambrosial character to every landscape : they delight us on the mountain, they charm us in the valley, they captivate us in the garden. Milton and Euripides delighted in the rose ; Vitruvius acknowledged it to be one of the best ornaments of a Corinthian capital jf lovers, in ancient times, were accustomed to swear by it ; and such veneration had the Per- sians for that exquisite flower, that it creeps into almost all their ongs, fables, and odes. * The Jews were commanded to use stacte, onycha, gal- banum, and frankincense in the tabernacle. Vid. Exod. ch. xxx. v. 34. Catholics of the present day make use of frankin- cense. Flowers were used by the Romans in sacrifices and on public festivals. Vid. Tibullus. Lib. 11. E. 1. f In Solomon's Temple were a profusion of artificial flowers, made of cedar; and the sarcophagi of the kings of Judea were ornamented with foliage and flower works, in imitation of their indigenous plants. 91 Perfumes, which administer such a sensible de- light to the voluptuary,* are supposed, also, to be peculiarly grateful to the dying and the dead. A Persian poet has an elegant stanza on the odorife- rous ringlets of his mistress. " Should the air waft the odour from the hair of my love, the per- fume, stealing over my tomb, would recal me to life, and render me vocal in her praise:" and because a custom, so amiable and elegant, as that of decorating with flowers the graves of beloved relatives, conduces to the gratification of some of the best feelings of our nature, no apology will be necessary for dwelling upon it a little at length. * Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. Twelfth Night. Act 1. Sc. 2. The odours of Venus indicated her origin : " Ambrosiseque comse divinum vertice odorem " Spiravere. Firg. Lib. 1. If modern politeness would sanction such a daring infrac- tion of its rules, we might venture to recommend one or two epigrams of Martial to our Bond-street non-entities; and a song of Ben Johnson, with an essay of Montaigne, to several of our married courtezans. A rose in the girdle may shed a delightful perfume over the bosom, but jessamine water in the hair And Otto on the lace, My dearest Jane, are mottos of disgrace. 92 LXXXIII. The manner, in which the Ro- mans took leave of their friends, was extremely af- fecting : " Vale, vale, vale ! nos te ordine quo nattira permiserit cuncti sequemur .'" Then, wishing the earth to lie lightly on their relicts, they departed. The monuments were then decorated with chaplets and balsams, and garlands of flowers. To this affectionate custom Virgil alludes, in the fifth book of his immortal poem, where Eneas sprinkles his father's grave with purple flowers ; and in the sixth, where the poet exclaims, V. Heu miserande puer ! si qua fata aspera rnmpas, Tti Marcellus eris. Manibus date ilia plenis ; Purpureos spargam flores, aniniainque nepotis His saltern accuinulcni donis, et fuugar inani Muncre. Lib. vi. I. 882. LXXXI V. This practice has prevailed among many of the most celebrated nations. The Per- sians adopted it from the Medes, and the Greeks from the Persians.* The tomb of Achilles was decorated with amaranth, and the urn of Philopae- men was covered with chaplets ; and that the grave of Sophocles was embellished with roses and ivy, * Vid. Tibullus. v 77. 93 we learn from an elegant epitaph on that fine dra- matic genius, written by Simonides. Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid ; Sweet ivy, wind thy boughs, and intertwine With blushing roses and the clustering vine ; Thus will thy lasting leaves, with beauties hung, Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung. Ivy and flowerets, also, were planted near the grave of Anacreon. This tomb be thine, Anacreon : all around Let ivy wreathe, let flowerets deck the ground, And from its earth, enrich'd with such a prize, Let wells of milk and streams of wine arise; So will thine ashes yet a pleasure know, If any pleasure reach the shades below.* LXXXV. Virgil decorates the body of Pallas with strewed leaves of arbutus and other funeral evergreens: The ceremony of laying the un- fortunate youth upon his bier is extremely affecting ; Lycophron tells us, that the tombs of two rivals were placed on the opposite sides of a mountain, lest their shades might be disturbed by the honours, paid to each other by their respective relatives. 94 and the passage, where he is compared to violets and hyacinths, plucked by the hands of a virgin, highly natural, pathetic, and beautiful. Qualem virgineo demessum pollice florem Seu niollis viols, sea languentis hyacinth! : Cui neque fulgor adhuc, necdum sua forma recessit ; Nou jam mater alit tellus, viresqne ministrat. Eneid.-\.\. I. 68. LXXXVI. To this we may add, that few pas- sages, in that fine poem, abound more in natural pathos, than that, where Andromache is represented as raising green altars to the memory of her depart- ed husband :* a passage, reminding us of several in Ossian, where he describes the monuments, which were erected to the Heroes of remote ages. " Narrow is thy dwelling place now ! dark is the place of thine abode ! with three steps I compass thy grave, Oh thou, that wert so great before ! four stones, with their heads of moss, are the only memorial of thee ! a tree with scarce a leaf, long grass, which whistles in the wind, mark, in the hunter's eye, the grave of the mighty Morar." Songs of Selma. "O lay me, ye that see the * Lib. iii. 1. 302. 95 light, near some rock of my hills ; let the rustling oak be near ; green be the place of my rest ; and let the sound of the distant torrent be heard." In the times of the ancient fathers, crowns of flowers were placed at the head of the grave-stones of virgins ;* and baskets of lilies and flowerets, vio- lets and roses, on the graves of husbands and wives : a custom, as we may conjecture from the epitaph on Sincerus Sannazarius, which prevailed also in Italy.*!' LXXXVII. In the wilds of America there is a tribe, whose women, after losing their infants, for some time go every day to their graves, and, with silent and pathetic eloquence, which shames all noisy grief, press some milk from their bosoms upon the grass, that cover their remains. The burying places of the people of Morocco are ge- nerally situated in the fields : every one purchases a spot of ground, which he surrounds with a walk, and plants with flowers. In China, whence, it is not improbable, the custom originally passed into Media, Persia, and Arabia, the ceremony of * Fuit quoque mos ad capita virgiuura apponendi flortun coronas. Cassalon de vet. Sac. Christ. 534. f Note 42. 96 planting flowers on graves prevails even at the present day :* and the inhabitants of Java frequently erect tombs among trees, and decorate them with flowers.*|- The Mausoleums of the clans of the Crimea are generally shaded by shrubs and fruit trees ;J and the Indians of Surat have a great veneration for the graves of their Saints, and strew fresh flowers upon them every year. In Scotland this practice prevailed in the time of Drummond of Hawthornden; and, in many parts of North and South Wales, it is still the common practice of the country. The graves in those beautiful and romantic provinces are deco- rated, on Palm Sunday, with leaves of laurel, cypress, and all the flowers, which are in blossom at that early season of the year : some also are planted on the graves, which are surrounded by small white-washed stones. In these little enclo- sures bloom the polyanthus and the narcissus, thyme, balm, and rosemary. Shakespeare alludes to this ceremony in Hamlet, in the Winter's Tale, and in Cymbeline, where Arviragus, contemplating * Note 43. f Valentyn, vol. iv. p. 15. Stavorinus, vol. i v p. 375. i Pallas' Travels in Russia, vol. iii. p. 41. $Stavo. rinus, ch. xiii. p. 487. 97 the body of Fidele, promises to sweeten his grave with the fairest flowers of summer.* LXXXVIII. One of the most elegant ceme- teries in Europe stands in the centre of two church- yards, at Bury St. Edmunds, in the county of Suf- folk. This cemetery is an isolate'! fragment of the celebrated abbey, in which John of Lydgate was a monk. Around this fragment are planted shrubs and trees, with a variety of flowers; and a profusion of ivy creeps up the sides of the walls, on which are placed two or three monuments. One of these pieces of marble commemorates the fate of a young girl, who was struck dead by lightning, while at her devotions ; on the other is inscribed the name of the wife of a banker of the name of SPINK; the third is sacred to the memory of the banker him- self; a man, whose virtues rendered its possessor worthy of so elegant a monument! LXXXIX. It is impossible to walk in the church-yards, in many parts of Wales, without re- flecting, with pleasure, on the respect, which is paid to the memories of the dead. The epitaphs are, however, generally poor and meagre ; yet I remem- * Note 44. VOL. I. H 98 ber to have seen three, which must highly gratify every person of imagination and taste. I. Hope, stranger, hope : Though the heart breaks, Still let us hope. II. Timon hated men Orpheus hated women ; I once loved one man and one woman : He cheated and she deceived me; Now I love only my God. III. ON MARY PENGREE. The village maidens to her grave shall bring The fragrant garland, each returning spring; Selected sweets! in emblem of the maid, Who underneath this hallowed turf is laid: lake her they flourish, beauteous to the eye, Lake her too soon, they languish, fade and die. * XC. Nothing in nature is more beautiful, than her COLOURS. Every flower is compounded of different shades ; almost every mountain is clothed with herbs or woods different from the one, op- posed to it; and every field has its peculiar hue. Colour is to scenery, what the entablature , is to architecture, and harmony to language. Nature, * Note 45. 99 therefore, delights in no fixed colour; for even her green is so well contrasted by its various shades, that the foliage of woods presents to our sight all the shades of an emerald, and all the combinations of innumerable chaplets. With as much facility may we number the leaves of the trees, the billows of the ocean, or the sands of the beach, as describe the various blendings of colours in stones, just washed by the waves. These meltings of various hues may, not inaptly, be styled the melody of colours. Sir Isaac Newton having remarked, that the breadths of the seven primary colours were proportional to the seven musical notes of the gamut; Father Cashel conceived, that colours had their harmonics, as well as music, and in consequence, constructed an instrument, which he called an OCULAR HARPSICHORD. The office of this instrument was to reflect all the com- binations of the primary colours in regular succes- sion: the prismatic rays furnishing the notes, and their shades the semitones.* XCI. What can be more agreeable, my Le- lius, than to watch the colours of aerial landscapes, * Goldsmith. H2 100 when the sun is rising in all his glory* or setting in his majesty? or when the moon, rising from behind the point of a rock, tinges the edges of the clouds with saffron, and depicts rivers, and castles, and mountains, rolling over each other, in aspiring columns, along the circle of the horizon? These appearances in the heavens, beautiful as they are in our hemisphere, are far less lovely, than those, which are observed in more southern climates; arising, principally, from the circumstance of their being, in those regions, little horizontal refraction. " In the peninsula of California," says Mons. Humboldt, " the sky is constantly serene, of a deep blue and without a cloud : should any ap- pear for a moment, at the setting of the sun, they display the finest shades of violet, purple and green. All those, who have ever been in Califor- nia, preserve a recollection of the extraordinary * Milton lias imagined a splendour more magnificent, than the pencil of the painter can exhibit, or the pen of the poet describe ; and which little less than the imagination of a poet is capable of picturing to the fancy: Adam, observing the approach of Raphael, describes him, as another morn Ris'n on mid-noon ! Paradise Lost, Book v. v. 308. 101 beauty of this phenomenon. No where," he con- tinues, " could an astronomer find a more delightful abode, than at Cumana Coro, the Island of Mar- guerite, and the coast of California." XCII. At the Tropics, the clouds roll them- selves into enormous masses, as white as snow, turning their borders into the forms of hills, piling themselves upon each other, and exhibiting the shapes of mountains, caverns, and rocks. There, as we collect from St. Pierre,* may be per- ceived, amid endless ridges, a multitude of valleys, whose openings are distinguished by shades of purple and vermilion. These celestial valleys ex- hibit, in their various colours, matchless tints of white, melting into shades of different colours. Here and there may be observed torrents of light, issuing from the dark sides of the mountains, and pouring their streams, like ingots of gold and silver, over rocks of coral. These appearances are not more to be admired for their beauty, than for their endless combinations, since they vary every in- stant. What, a moment before, was luminous, be- comes coloured; what was coloured mingles into shade ; forming singular and most beautiful repre- sentations of islands and hamlets, arched bridges * Studies of Nature. 102 stretched over wide rivers, immense ruins, huge rocks and gigantic mountains. The clouds frequently, among the Highlands of Scotland, display the finest outlines and assume the most lovely characters ; more especially, when viewed from the cones of their wild and magnifi- cent summits.* To these landscapes, sketched with such boldness in the heavens, Dr. Beattie finely alludes, in his poem of the Minstrel. Oft when the wintry storm had ceas'd to rave, He roam'd Ihe snowy waste at even, to view The cloud stupendous, from th" Atlantic wave, High-towering, sail along the horizon blue; Where 'midst the changeful scenery, ever new, Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries, More wildly great, than ever pencil drew ; Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size, And glittering cliffs on cliffs and fiery ramparts rise. It 9* ! .i Minstrel, Part i. st, liii. XCIII. These visions, these mimic representa- tions, designed, as it were, by the Eternal, in mockery of man's works, and as emblems of their instability, charm alike the philosophic eye, search- ing into the secrets of nature, and the heart of the * Note 46. 1O3 peasant, who, at an humbler distance, admires her beauties and obeys her impulses. See too, my Lelius, and be captivated, as you behold, the fine- formed arch of the rain-bow; see it, when it en- circles the horizon of an extended plain, or when it is hanging from the sides of a mountain, and if you are able to restrain the impulse of your ad- miration, I will proclaim to your friends, that you will never be a poet. . .iiwfoa 'io p;i XCIV. I do not remember, whether it has been expressly noticed by our philosophical writers, but it is evident, that the ancients had a knowledge of the rainbow's being formed by the refraction of the sun-beams and the falling of rain.* We may infer this from the allegory of the winds, in the twenty-third book of the Iliad : and more particu- larly from a passage in the fifth book of the Eneid. ceu nubibus arcus Mille trahit varies adverse sole colores. Lib. v. 1. 88. Martial also, Casuras alte sic rapit Iris aquas. Lib. xii. Ep. 29. 6. *Note4r. 104 Nothing can be more express, than the lan- guage of Pliny ; " Quod ergo Iris sit refractio aspectus est ad solem, manifestum est."* And as Plutarch declares it to be a circumstance well known in his time, it is difficult to conceive, why, in the present, Antonio de Dominis is honoured, as an inventor, rather than a reviver of a system, which Descartes more fully explained, and which Newton completed by analyzing the respective qualities of colour. XCV. The poets have feigned the rain-bow to be the residence of certain aerial creatures, whose delight it is to sport and wanton in the clouds. f Milton, in his exquisite dramatic poem of Coinus, thus alludes to this platonic idea. I took it for a fairy vision Of some gay creatures in the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i' th' plighted clouds. The rainbow, which, not improbably, first sug- gested the idea of arches, though beautiful in all countries, is more particularly so in mountainous ones; for, independent of their frequency, it is * Lib. 2. cap. 29. f Note 48. 105 impossible to conceive any thing more grand, than the appearance of this fine natural arch, when its extreme points rest upon the opposite sides of a narrow valley, or on the peaked summits of two precipitate mountains.* XCVI. What appearances in nature can be more beautiful, and, at the same time, more awful, than the wild and mysterious motions and colours of the Aurora Borealis ? Sometimes co- vering, with inconceivable magnificence, the con- cave of the whole hemisphere; changing their positions every moment ; now resembling vast pyramids ; or stretching into innumerable columns, and varying their shapes and colours with the most astonishing rapidity, and with endless caprice : now vanishing in a moment, leaving the heavens sombre and black, and now returning with in- creased splendour, shedding a matchless glory over all the heavens !f On the summit of Mount Blanc, the snow, reflecting with dazzling brilliancy, the moon rises with the greatest splendour, in the midst of a sky Note 49. t Note 50. 106 as black as ebony! At the southern Cape of Africa, when the south winds prevail, the moon appears to have an undulating motion, the stars revolve in a fantastic manner, and the planets seem all bearded like a comet. XCVII. With respect to the Aurora Borealis, many hypotheses have been started by natural philosophers, in order to account 'for its grand and singular coruscations. Not one, however, will stand the test of rigid examination. St. Pierre, who has proposed the last plausible theory, imagines it probable, that the Aurora Borealis may be caused by the coruscations of ice at the polar circles ; since the approach of vast islands of ice are frequently signified, some time before they appear in the horizon, by the coruscations they emit. This hypothesis gains some confirma- tion from the circumstance, which has been ob- served by travellers in Lapland and Siberia, of the Aurora Borealis being attended by a hissing and a cracking noise. One insuperable objection, how- ever, among many others, may be opposed to this theory. If the remarkable phenomenon, alluded to, proceeded from the coruscations of ice at the polar circles, it would appear regularly every year ; where- 107 as, it is now scarcely ever to be seen, and, in more ancient times, it was even still more unfrequent. Some have imagined it to proceed from the ice- islands themselves, which float, at particular seasons of the year, along the northern and southern oceans : grounding their opinions, principally, upon Cap- tain Cook's having observed, that the ice-islands, at the South Pole, illuminated half the horizon to a considerable height.* This hypothesis is even more improbable than the former. It is liable to the same insurmountable objection as to the unfrequency, with the addition of the utter impos- sibility of our imagining, that any coruscations, caused by objects so comparatively low as ice islands, should ascend to an altitude of several thousand miles ; a height to which, in the opinion of many philosophers, particularly Euler and Mairan, the illuminations of the Aurora Borealis undoubtedly aspire. To add to the difficulty, it has been observed by several travellers in Iceland, that the northern lights proceed from the east and south-east, as well as from the north. In Greenland generally from the east. v"' n |ll'*iv -v>"r* r**.Tf 1'lrt fl'w* y*;"'* > '"' XCVIII. But of all the phenomena of nature, * Cook's Voyages^ vol. 1. p. 267. 4to. 108 there is no appearance, which visits the mind with such indescribable emotion, as that, which animates every beholder of the Fata Margana, in the Streights of Messina : a phenomenon, that exceeds all the fairy phantoms, which the imagination creates, while we are reading the brilliant descrip- tions of an Arabian poet. Minai has written a dissertation on this phenomenon, which is thus described by Father Angelucci : " On the 1 5th of August, 1643, as I stood at my window, I was surprised with a wonderful vision. The sea, that washes the Sicilian shore, swelled up, and became, for ten miles in length, like a chain of dark moun- tains ; while the waters, near our Calabrian coast, grew quite smooth, or, in an instant, appeared as one clear polished mirror, reclining against the aforesaid ridge. On this glass was depicted, in chiaro oscuro, a string of several thousand pilasters, all equal in altitude, distance, and degree of light and shade. In a moment they lost their height, and bent into arcades, like Roman aqueducts. A long cornice was next formed on the top, and above it rose castles innumerable, all perfectly alike: they soon split into towers, which were shortly after lost in colonnades, then windows, and at last ended in pines, cypresses, and other trees, 109 even and similar. This is the Fata Margana, which, for twenty-six years, I thought a mere fable." Such is the account of this astonishing aerial phenomenon, derived by Mr. Swinburne from Father Angelucci. That of Moos. Houel is equally remarkable.* XCIX. No landscape, however admirable in other respects, is complete without motion. The swan must glide along the river; the eagle wheel among the crags; the goat must bound among the precipices ; or herds or flocks graze in irregular groups along the valley. For this rea- son, the poets never fail to animate their ideal landscapes with some interesting associations, that imply motion ; such as the waving of woods, the falling of waters, and the flight of birds. Thom- son affords innumerable instances. What a fine passage is that, where he enlivens the sterile rocks of St. Kilda with the movements of a group of eagles ! High from the summit of a craggy cliff, Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns, On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds, The Royal Eagle draws his vigorous young, * Note 51. 110 Strong pounc'd and ardent with paternal fire. Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own, He drives them from his fort, the towering seat, For ages, of his empire; which, in peace, Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea He wings his course, and preys in distant Isles. In the motion of landscape, what can be more agreeable, than the waving of corn or of trees, the calm gliding, or the fierce rushing of rivers, the rising of columns of smoke,* the unpremeditated motion of animals, and the majestic movements of the clouds, marching before a storm, or gliding in stupendous masses, along the vast expanse of the horizon ! C. If the country charm us with the beauty * Lambinus has well described the various involutions of rising smoke, which gives such an indescribable charm to woodland landscapes. " Cum trepido seu tremulo motu sin sum feruntnr. Rotantes, torqueutes, glomerantes, rotarum in morem volventes. Sic Virgil Globos flammarura ap- pellat flamrnas /Etme, globorum in morem erumpentes. Vid. En. Lib. iii. 1. 574. also Georg. Lib. i. 1. 473. Et jam Minima procnl villarum culmina fumant Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae. In the mind of a lover of landscape, what interesting asso- ciations do these two lines create ! Ill and variety of its productions, it pleases us, also, by the variety of amusements, which it affords to us. To say nothing of hunting, hawking, shoot- ing, and fowling, which, having something cruel in their nature, ought to be foreign to our subject, what can be more worthy the attention of literary leisure, than the cultivation of a garden? " Of all my works," said Pope, " I am most proud of my garden." And the great, the profound Des- cartes, whose mind was, at all times, in a state of perpetual serenity, amused his summer evenings in the cultivation of a small garden, which was an appendage to his house at Amsterdam. Thus, as his biographer finely remarks, having settled the place of a planet in the morning, he would amuse himself, in the evening, by watering a flower ! " I look upon the pleasure, we take in a garden," says that amiable and excellent man, who first brought philosophy from the schools, " as one of the most innocent delights in human life. It is na- turally apt to fill the mind with calmness and tran- quillity, and to lay all its turbulent passions at rest. It gives us a great insight into the contrivance and wisdom of providence, and, suggesting innumerable subjects for meditation, I cannot but think, that the very complacency and satisfaction, which a 112 man takes in these pleasures, is, in itself, a virtu- ous habit of the mind." For reasons, allied to these, Lord Kaimes was expressly of opinion, that good professors were not more essential in a col- lege than a garden, ornamented in such a manner, as to inspire youth with a taste for simplicity and elegance. CI. Milton, exquisitely alive to all the graces of nature, finely describes the transports of our first parent, when newly created, at the sight of those beauties, which adorned the garden of Eden.* About me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these Creatures, that lived and moved and walked or flew; Birds on the branches warbling ; all things smiled With fragrance j and with joy my heart o'erflowed. In the fourth book nothing, in the language of description, can be more admirable, than the general picture of the scenery, which composed this terrestrial paradise. In another part of this * Count Buffbn has a similar description. It is one of the most eloquent passages of that celebrated Naturalist. Vol. vi. p. 88. 113 astonishing poem, how elegantly does Adam ex- hort Eve to awake to the enjoyments of her flow- ers and shrubs. Awake! the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls ns ; we lose the prime to mark how spring Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet.' CII. Another instance of the love of our first mother for the products of nature is afforded us in that passage of the eighth book, where Eve, per- ceiving the Angel and Adam about to enter into high and abstruse converse, rose from her seat and went forth, among her frui f s and flowers ; To visit how they prospered, bud and bloom Her nursery ; they at her coming sprung, And touch'd by her fair dalliance gladlier grew.f Note 52. f How elegant and affecting too is that passage, where Eve, touched with the acutest anguish, addresses herself to the Sowers she had reared, and to the nuptial bower she had adorned. Vid. Beattie's Essays on poetry and music. Part ii. ch. 1. 3. TOL. I. I 114 And when she learns, that she must quit that delightful Paradise, in which she had tasted so much happiness, how exquisitely beautiful and pathetic is her lamentation ! " Must I then leave thee, Paradise ! Thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of Gods, where I had hope to spend Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day, That must be mortal to us both ? O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave you names! Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount? Thee, lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorn'd With what to sight or smell was sweet : from thee How shall I part? and whither wander down Into a lower world, to this, obscure And wild ? How shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?" CIII. Almost all nations have united to make the future abode of good spirits a Garden ; a name, among the Assyrians, synonymous with Paradise. The Mahometans call the Paradise, to which the faithful will be called, Jannat le Nairn, the Gar- den of Pleasure; Jannat aden, the Garden of 115 Perpetual Abode; and not unfrequently by the simple name of al Jannat, the Garden, to distin- guish it from all others. This garden they fabled to be peopled with Ilouris, whose beauty surpassed the most exqui- sitely lovely of all captivating women ; with whom the faithful, when the angel of death (to pursue the Arabian allegory), had dissolved the union of the body and the soul,* were to enjoy the most ecstatic raptures ; first by a kiss, and afterwards by an immaculate alliance. -j- CIV. The Christian creed, on the other hand, af- fords no definite idea of heaven. Giving the fullest and most unbounded scope to the most excursive ima- gination, it leaves it resting in all the awful mystery of sublime obscurity. " Eye hath not seen," says St. Paul, "nor ear heard, neither have entered into the mind of man the things, which God hath prepared for those, that love him. "| "They shall hunger no more," as we read in the Apocalypse, "neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun * Hyde in notis ad Bobov. de visit. ^Egrot. 19. Vide Virgil. Lib. ix. t Note 53. $ 1 Corinth, ch. ii. v. 9. Isaiah, cb. Ixir. v. 4. 116 light on them, nor any heat : for the Lamb shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes."* In this state of beatitude, free from every vicissitude of change or decay, they shall associate to all eternity with a numerous host of angels,-^ whose glory and whose ecstasy is continually evinc- ed by hymns of praise, harmonizing, in concert, with innumerable harps. CV. The Laplander believes Paradise to be situ- ated in the centre of the snows of Sweden ! The Muscogulgees imagine it among the islands of the vast Pacific. " Do you see those blue moun- tains," says Piomingo, " whose towering summits are mixed with the descending clouds ?" " I see them." Beyond those mountains there is a wide river ; beyond that river there is a great country ; on the other side of that country there is a world of water; in that water there are a thousand islands : the sun is gone among them :- These * Rev. ch. vii. v. 16, 17. ch. ii. v. 4. also Isaiah, ch. 49. v. 10. ch. xxv. v. 8. Psalms, xxxvi. v. 8, 9. xvi. v. 2. Matt, ch. xxv. v. 46. Rom. ch. ii. v. 7. 1 Peter, ch. i. v. 4. Dan. ch. xii. v. 2. John, ch. v. v. 24, 29. f Heb. ch. xii. y. 2. Paradise Lost, Book vi. 117 islands are full of trees and streams of water ; a thousand buffaloes and ten thousand deer graze on the hills, or ruminate in the valleys." " When I die, shall I become an inhabitant of those islands ?" " Love your friends become a great warrior and when you die, the great spirit will conduct you to the land of souls." Such is the belief of one of the tribes of the North American Indians. CVI. The Mexicans conceived, that those, who died of wounds or were drowned, went to a cool and delightful place ; there to enjoy all manner of pleasures : those, who died in battle;or in capti- vity, were wafted to the palace of the sun, and led a life of endless delight. After an abode of four years in this splendid habitation, they animated clouds and birds of beautiful feather, and of sweet song; having, at the same time, liberty to ascend to heaven or descend to earth, to suck sweet flowers and warble enchanting songs.* The Tonquinese imagine the forests and moun- tains to be peopled with a peculiar kind of Genii, who exercise an influence over the affairs of man- * Clavigero's History of Mexico, v. vi. p. 136, 157. 118 kind; and in their ideas, relative to a state of fu- ture happiness, they regard a delightful climate, and an atmosphere, surcharged with odours, with a throne profusely covered with garlands of flow- ers, as the summit of celestial felicity. Among the Arabs, a fine country, with abundance of shade, form the principal object of their promised bliss ; Addison, therefore, in his allegory of Mirza, is faithful to the visions of that enthusiastic people.* CVII. Every one has heard of the Hesperian Gardens, though the country, in which they were situated, has never been precisely ascertained. While some place them at Larach in the kingdom of Fez, others have assigned Lixus or Susa in Morocco; Zeres in the province of Andalusia; Ethiopia ; the Cape de Verd Islands ; the Cana- ries ; and Rudbecks was so enamoured of North- ern scenery, as to suppose them to be situated in Sweden ! Some, among whom we may particu- larize Monsieur Bailly, place those Gardens, as well as Indra, the fairy land of the Persian poets, beyond the mouth of the Oby in the Fro- zen Sea ! It is, however, most probable, that they were situated in the Cape de Verd Islands, * Note 54. 119 and the golden Fruit, stolen by Hercules, no other than oranges. To these Islands, which were also the Fortunate Islands* of the poets, Sertorius formed a resolution of retiring, when weary of the perpetual wars, in which he was en- gaged ; and he had actually so retired, but for the treachery and villany of a part of his crew. It was to these highly-favoured spots, that Horace, in a time of great public calamity, invited his coun- trymen to accompany him. " Let us go," says he, " in search of those happy fields, where the earth, untilled, yields annual fruit, and the vines flourish so abundantly ; where honey flows from the trunk of the oak, and murmuring streams roll slowly down the mountains."^ CVIII. These Islands (after all memory of them had been lost among the ruins of the Roman Em- pire), were discovered by the Genoese. Lewis of Spain, soon after, requested pope Clement to bestow them upon him. The Pope, proud of an opportunity of giving away a kingdom, consented, and crowned him with much ceremony at Avig- * Note 55. t arva, beata Petamus arva, &c. &c. HOR: EPOD: Lib. v. Ep. xvi. I. 41. 120 non. Lewis, who was the eldest Son of Alphon- so, king of Castile, thus obtained the title of " Prince of the Fortunate Islands." When the news of this transaction reached England, says Petrarch, the people, thinking the name of For- tunate belonged only to themselves, were highly displeased and alarmed, that his Holiness should presume to give them away ! CIX. Juvenal represents Lucan reposing in a garden.* Tasso pictures Rinaldo sitting beneath the shade in a fragrant meadow : Virgil describes Anchises, seated beneath sweet-scented bay-trees ; and Eneas, as reclining, remote from all society, in a deep and winding valley .f Gassendi, who * The epithet he applies to horiis is sufficiently curious. The Scholiast cites Pliny, 1. 36. . L2 148 Friend, " If you drink tea upon a promontory that overlooks the sea, it is preferable to an as- sembly ; and the whistling of the wind better mu- sic to contented and loving minds, than the opera to the spleenful, ambitious, diseased, distast- ed and distracted souls, which this world affords. Happy they, who can banish themselves, or more properly speaking, banish the world from them." How agreeable to our palate are our grapes, nec- tarines, and strawberries, when partaken in a bow- er, formed of roses and honeysuckles, which seem to vie with each other in imparting their fra- grance to our peaches and our melons! If these are not the " Crenae Deorum" of Horace, they are at least the " Epulae Deorum." Sherry becomes Burgundy, water nectar, honey manna, and bread ambrosia ; while the flagelet, which merely pleases in the odeum, enchants us among rocks, and seems even to articulate, if it be sounded in a nar- row valley, or in a glen, where the music of its echoes charm even more, than the modulations of the instrument itself. CXXX VI. The concord of sounds is not more grateful to the genuine lover of nature, than na- ture, exhibited in all its grace of drapery, is to the 149 generality of mankind. So common is this pro- pensity, particularly with that part of the com- munity, who are young and of good dispositions, that there is scarcely a writer of romance, who does not attempt to gratify it: and, though they seldom succeed in this exercise of their imagina- tion, the images they faintly trace, are, generally the most amusing portions of their whole per- formances. Anxious to. gratify this natural taste of their readers, our romance writers frequently select, as the theatres of action, the forests of Germany, the vales of Languedoc, the moun- tains of Switzerland, the plains of Tuscany, or the delightful environs of Rome, Naples and Palermo. For elegance of taste and sentiment, for the variety and strength, the beauty and amenity of her descriptions, Mrs. Ratcliffe stands unrivalled, in her department of romance. It is impossible to read this enchanting writer without following her in all her magic windings, whither- soever she is pleased to lead us. If she traverse above the clouds, upon the tops of the Pyrenees, along the romantic plains of Gascoigny, or coast the odoriferous shores of Languedoc, up the mountains of Switzerland, or down the vales of Savoy, we are never weary of the journey. If she 150 lead us through a forest, at morning, evening, or in the gloom of night, still are we enchained, as with a magic girdle, and follow from scene to scene unsatiated and untired. CXXXVII. Rousseau confesses, that, when he was forming the plan of his New Heloise, he was anxious to select a country, which should be wor- thy of his characters: He was, in consequence, some time before he could finally determine upon the prpvince, in which he should lay the scene of that celebrated Romance.* He successively called to mind the most delightful spots, that he had ever seen; but he remembered no grove sufficiently charming, no landscape sufficiently beautiful. The valleys of Thessaly would have charmed his waver- ing thought, but those valleys he had never seen, and, fatigued with invention, he desired a land- scape of reality to elicit his descriptive powers, and to operate as a point, on which he might oc- casionally repose a strong, a vivid, and excursive imagination. At length, weary of selection, he fixed upon those vales and mountains, and upon that lake, which in early life had charmed his * Confessions, Book ix. 151 fancy and formed his taste. Who has not beheld the pictures of his youth in the first part of his Confessions? and who has not been captivated with the descriptions he has given of Geneva and Vevay, the Lake of Lausanne, and the orchard of Ciarens ? CXXX VIII. If the common taste of mankind lead man to derive pleasure from the representations of nature, how much more so must we suppose the influence of real scenes on the mind of the poet; the primary qualities of whose genius, as some one has justly observed, being an eye, that can see nature, a heart that can feel nature, and a resolution, that dares follow nature. Hence it is, that the first objects, which have charms for youth- ful genius, are those of landscape ; hence it arises, that all our more eminent poets have been strict observers of rural objects, and enthusiastic ad- mirers of rich and imposing scenery : For it was to primitive prospects, that the earlier writers were principally indebted for the noble enthusiasm, by which they were distinguished. C XXXIX. Theocritus, the father of pastoral poetry, was born in a country abounding in every 152 species of landscape, and blest with the most fortunate climate for the practice of the poet's precepts. This poet was as much superior to Virgil in beauty, in originality of thought, and in simplicity of style, as Virgil is superior to all the numerous host of his literal imitators. The Aminta of Tasso is the most elegant pastoral drama* in any language, and, with Guarini's Pastor Fido, and Bonarelli's Filli di Sciro, was frequently represented by the Italian nobility in gardens and groves, having no other scenery, than what the places, in which they were represented, naturally afforded. CXL. Among the British, pastoral has at- tained little of excellence, since the days of Spen- ser, Drayton, and Browne. Affectation has long been substituted for passion, and delicacy and elegance for that exquisite simplicity of language and sentiment, which constitutes the principal charm of this delightful species of poetry. Phil- * Surely Rapin becomes fanciful, when he endeavours to trace the origin of the pastoral drama to the Cyclops of Euripides! When Tasso read II Pastor Fido, he exclaimed, " Had Guarini never seen the Aminta, he had never excelled it!" A tioble instance of modesty and confidence! V 153 lips is but an awkward appropriator of Virgil's Imagery, and an unsuccessful imitator of Spenser's phraseology. As a pastoral, Milton's Lycidas, notwithstanding the applause that has been heaped upon it, is frigid and pedantic, while his Epi- taphium Damonis, boasting many agreeable pas- sages, merely denotes the elegance of an accom- plished scholar. Pope is too refined, his versifica- tion too measured, and his ideas little more than derivations from the more polished and courtly passages of his Mantuan and Sicilian masters. He addresses the genius of the Thames, rather than of the Avon, and adapts his sentiments more to the meridian of Hagley and Stowe, than to the meadows of Gloucestershire, or the vales of Devon. CXLI. The gentle Shepherd of Fletcher may be placed in competition with its prototype by Guarini, and the pastoral songs of Burns and other Scottish poets, are equal, if not superior, to those of any other age or nation. But of all ancient or modern pastoral writers, none excel, or even equal, the mild, the gentle, the captivating GESSNER; whose simplicity and tenderness have power to animate the bosom of age, and to refine 154 the passions of the young. Superior to the rural poets of France and Spain, of England, Scotland, and Italy, Kind nature own'd him for her favourite son. His Death of Abel is worthy the pen of Moses ; his First Navigator combines all the fancy of the poet, with the primeval simplicity of the Patriarch ; and his Idyls are captivating to all but the igno- rant, the pedant, and the sensualist. CXLII. " Nothing," says a celebrated travel- ler, " nothing delights me so much, as the inside of a Swiss cottage ; all those I have visited, convey the liveliest images of cleanliness, ease, and simplicity ; and cannot but strongly impress on the observer, a most pleasing conviction of the peasant's happi- ness." With such models constantly before him, it is no subject for excess of astonishment, that Gessner should be capable of painting such exqui- site companion pieces as his Idyls and Pastorals. But for a man, bred in the school of dulness, as a country town invariably is, associating with play- ers, and residing, for the principal part of his life, in all the dust and poison of a city, how much is 155 our wonder and admiration excited, when we read the delightful delineations of pastoral manners, as they are drawn in several dramas of that grand creator of worlds, and delineator of passion, Shake- speare. That a master, so skilled in the minute anatomy of the heart, should be capable of divest- ing himself of all that fatal knowledge, to sound " wild wood-notes," worthy of the reed of Tasso, is of itself a singular phenomenon. Who can read the following song, but he fancies himself sur- rounded by a group of pastoral innocents, with Perdita singing in the midst of them ? Come, come, my good shepherds, our docks we must shear; In your holiday suits, with your lasses appear: The happiest of folks are the guileless and free, And who are so guileless, so happy as we? That giant, ambition, we never can dread ; Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; Content and sweet cheerfulness open our door, They smile with the simple and feed with the poor. When love has possessed us, that love we reveal ; Like the flocks that we feed, are the passions we feel , So harmless, so simple, we sport and we play, And leave to fine folks to deceive and betray. Winter's Tnk, Act. IT. sc. 3. 156 CXLI1I. In general description Homer was as great a master, as in the sublimer departments of his art. What can be more admirable, than the scenes of Harvest and the Vintage, with which he has embellished the 1 8th Book of the Iliad ? Hesiod, too, has many descriptions of rural scenery, sketched with all the truth and simplicity of nature. He was a shepherd, and all his pic- tures portraits. Among the Latins, Virgil excels in the delineation of particular, and Lucretius in that of general landscape. What a passage is the following ! Inque dies magis in montem succedere sylvas Cogebant, infraqne locum concedere cultis : Prata, lacus, rivos, segetes, vinetaque laeta Collibns, et campis ut babercnt, atque olearum Ccerula distinguens inter plaga currere posset Per tumulos, et couvalleis, camposque profusa : Ut mine esse vides vario distincta lepore Omnia, quae pomis intersita dulcibus ornant : Arbustisque tenent felicibus obsita circum. Lucretius, LtA. v. 1 1370. CXLIV. In that part, too, where he sings the praises of Empedocles, beautiful is the picture he draws of the Coast of Sicily, and the wonders of Etna and Charybdis :* and no finer contrast is ex- Lib. i. J. 7*3. 157 hibited by any of the poets, ancient or modern, than the one, in which he compares the pleasure of being stretched beneath the shade of a tree, or on the banks of a river, with the more costly raptures of a splendid banquet. This passage alone would have immortalized Lucretius. It has all the feel- ing of nature, and all the denial of philosophy. The versification is flowing, the sentiments are golden sentiments, and, to speak after the man- ner of painters, the composition is correct, and the colours " dipt in heaven." Si non anrea suntjuvenum simolachra per aedis Lampadas igniferas manibus retinentia dextris, Lumina noctnrnis epnlis ut suppeditentur, Nee tlomus argeoto fulget, auroque renidet ; Nee eitbaris rcboant laqaeata aurataque templa : Attameu inter se prostrati in gramine niolli Propter aqua?, rivuni, sub ramis arboris alias, Non magnis opibus jucunde corpora curant: Praesertim cum tempestas arridet, et anni Tempora couspergunt viridantcis Soribus herbas, Nee calidae citius decedunt corpore febres Textilibus si in picturis, ostroque rubenti Jactaris, quam si plebeia in veste cubandum est. Lucretius, Lib. ii. CXLV. Virgil, that great master of the passions, philosopher of nature, and the best of all the Latin 158 descriptive poets, if we except Lucretius, was an ardent lover of rural and picturesque imagery. Hence he is, at all times, on the watch to inquire into, and explain the phenomena of nature ; to boast of the number of flocks and herds of Italy ; the beauty of its groves and meadows ; the fineness of its vines and olives ; the virility of its spring, and the mildness of its climate. Many of his in- dividual scenes are drawn with the pencil of a finished landscape-painter. The admirable pic- ture of Claude, in the collection of Welbore Ellis, exhibits not more clearly to the imagination, than the language of the Mantuan poet, which describes the spot, where Eneas first landed in Italy. Crebescunt optatoc aurae ; portusque patescit Jam proprior, templumqne apparet in arce Mineme. Vela legunt Socii, et proms ad litora torquent. Portus ab Eoo fluctu curvatur in arcum ; Ohjecta 3 salsa spumant aspergine cautes ; Ipse latet ; gemino demittunt brachia muro Turi-iti scopuli, refugitque a litore templum. En. Lib. iii. I. 530. Nor is it possible to draw for the eye a more agreeable picture, than that in the first Eneid, which has so often been esteemed a sketch, in miniature, of the Bay of Naples. 159 Eat in secessu longo locus : Insnla portum Efficit objectu laterum, quibus omnis ab alto Frangitur, inque sinus scindit sese unda reductog : Ilinc atque hinc vastaa rupes geminique minantur In coelum scopuli, quorum sub vertice late /Equora tnta silent; turn Sylvis Scena corns ris Desuper, horrentiqne atrum nemus imminet umbra. En. Lib. i. v. 163. CXLVI. But to confine ourselves to British poets. CHAUCER, active, ardent, and gay, a lover of wine, fond of society, and well qualified to charm by the elasticity of his spirits, the agreeableness of his manners, and the native goodness of his heart, was a lover of that kind of cheerful scenery, which amuses us in the fields, or delights us in the gar- den. The rising sun, the song of the sky-lark, a clear day, an extended landscape, had peculiar charms for him. His descriptions, therefore, are animated and gay, full of richness, and evidently the result of having studied for himself. SPEN- SER, the wild, the fascinating Spenser, delineates, with force and simplicity, the romantic and en- chanting. MILTON was a lover of the beautiful in Nature, as he was of the sublime in Poetry : and though his Il'Penseroso abounds in those images, which excite the most sombre reflections, 160 the general character of his delineations are of an animated cast. In his Minor poems, which af- forded him an opportunity of consulting his natu- ral taste, unconnected with epic gravity, we find him almost universally sketching with a light, an animated and elegant pencil. What can be more cheerful, than his Song on May Morning, or his beautiful Latin Poem on the Coming of Spring ? And can any thing be more rich and fascinating, than the scenery of Comus, or more profusely abounding in all, that renders rural imagery de- lightful, than his exquisite Lyric of L' Allegro ?* And beyond all this, what shall we compare with his Garden of Eden ? Nothing in the Odyssey 5^ nothing in the descriptions, we have received, of the Groves of Antioch, or the Valley of Temp6 : neither the Gardens of Armida, or the Hesperides ; the Paradise of Ariosto; Claudian's Garden of Venus ; the Elysium of Virgil and Ovid, or the Cyprus of Marino ; neither the Enchanted Gar- den of Boyardo, the Island of Camoens, or Rous- seau's Verger de Clarens, have any thing to com- pare with it. * Note 61. f Note 62. 161 CXLVI1. But however well a scene may be described, every landscape, so exhibited, does not necessarily become a subject for the palette of the painter. Some descriptions embrace objects too minute, some are too humble and familiar, others too general, and some there are too faith- ful to be engaging. This poet delights in de- scribing the familiar, that the beautiful; some in delineating the picturesque, and others in sketching the sublime. These may be styled the FOUR ORDERS of landscape.* In the first we may class Cowper ; in the second Pope ; in the third Thomson; in the fourth Ossian. The descriptions of COWPER are principally from humble and domestic life, including objects, seen every day and in every country. The gipsey group is almost the only picturesque sketch, he affords. Highly as this has been extolled, how much more interesting had the subject become in the hands of a Dyer, a Thomson, or a Beattie ! POPE excels in painting the beautiful, and yet is he so general, that his vales, slopes, plains, and woods, flit before the imagination in graceful abundance, leaving on the memory few traces of * Note 63. VOL. I. M 162 existence. THOMSON, also, deals considerably in generals, and seems mostly to have viewed nature from the summit of a hill, and to have drawn his images from the vale below. His pic- tures are principally adapted to the latitude of Richmond. Some, however, are enchantingly picturesque, and others sublime to the last degree : they present themselves to the eye in strong and well-defined characters ; the keeping is well preserved, the outlines are boldly marked. CXLVIII. DYER tinted like Ruysdale, and Os si AN with all the force and majesty of Salvator Rosa. In describing wild tracks, pathless solitudes, dreary and cragged wildernesses, with all the horrors of savage deserts, partially peopled with a hardy, a virtuous and not inelegant race of men, Ossian is unequalled. In night scenery he is above all imitation for truth, solemnity and pathos ; and no one more contrasts the varied aspects of nature with the mingled emotions of the heart.* What can be more admirable, than his address to the evening star, in the songs of Selma ; to the moon in Darthula ; or that fine address to the sun in * Note 64. 163 his poem of Carthon ? passages almost worthy the sacred pen of the prophet Isaiah. CXLIX. The uniformity, that has been observed in the imagery of Ossian, is not the uniformity of dulness. Local description only aids the memory; for a scene must be actually observed by the eye, be- fore the mind can form a just and adequate idea of it. No epicure can judge of a ragout by the palate of another a musician must hear the concert, he presumes to criticise and the reader will gain but a very imperfect idea of the finest landscape in the universe, by reading or hearing it described ; for we can neither taste, nor hear, nor smell, nor feel, nor see by proxy. Thus, when Ossian describes vales, rocks, mountains and glens, the words, he uses, are the same, and the images, they respectively suggest, would appear to be the same, but the scenes themselves are dressed in an infinite variety of drapery. It is not that nature is poor, but that language is indigent. A superficial read- er, possessing no play of fancy, when the sun is represented as going down, and the moon as rising ; when a cataract is said to roar, and the ocean to roll, can only figure to himself the actual repre- sentations of those objects, without any combina- M 2 164 tions. A man of an enlarged and elegant mind, however, immediately paints to himself the lovely tints, that captivate his fancy in the rising and setting of those glorious luminaries; he already sees the tremendous rock, whence the cataract thunders down, and thrills with agreeable horror at the distant heavings of an angry ocean. CL. Possessing a mind, that fancy never taught to soar, the one perceives no graces in a tint ; a broad and unfinished outline only spreads upon his canvass ; while, by the creative impulses of genius, the outline is marked by many a match- less shade, and the foreground occupied by many a bold, or interesting group. Gifted with an elegant and accomplished mind, the Poet walks at large, amid the gay creations of the material world, imbibing images, at every step, to form his subjects and illustrate his posi- tions: For there is an analogy between external appearances of nature, and particular affections of the soul, strikingly exemplificative of that general harmony, which subsists in all the universe. From this analogy, the heavenly bodies were considered symbols of majesty,* and the oak an emblem of * Note 65. strength; the olive, of peace, and the willow, of sorrow. One of the Psalms of David, pursuing this analogy, represents the Jews, hanging their harps upon the willows of Babylon, bewailing their exile from their native country. The yellow- green, which is the colour nature assumes at the falling of the leaf, was worn in chivalry, as an emblem of despair : Red is considered as indica- tive of anger, green, of tranquillity, and brown, of melancholy. In the same manner, the yew and the cypress have long been acknowledged as em- blems of mourning; the violet, of modesty; the lily of the valley, of innocence; the rose, of beau-* ty; the aloe, of constancy; and the palm and laurel, of honour and victory. CLI. By analogy, we associate good for- tune with a fine morning ; ignorance with dark- ness ; youth with spring ; manhood with summer ; autumn with that season of life, when, as Milton observes in a fine vein of melancholy, we are fallen into " the sere and yellow leaf;" Winter we associate with age.* We assimilate summer and winter, too, with good and ill fortune ; an in-^ * Note 66. 166 stance of which occurs in Cymbeline,* a play, which will live, till " time shall throw a dart at death," though it has been so wantonly depreciat- ed by Johnson. Even the art of war has some analogies with natural objects ; hence is it no un- frequent practice, among Generals, to encamp their forces in a form, which they descriptively c*all the " rose-bud;" the works flanking and covering each other like the lips of roses. CLII. Availing ourselves of these analogical licenses, we compare a dingle to a smiling infant, a glen to a beautiful girl, a valley to a captivating virgin, and when the valley opens into a vale, it may, not inelegantly, be associated with the idea of a well- formed, finished matron. In speaking of the sun, if we may be allowed to indulge in flowers of rheto- ric, so exotic, we might almost be excused for saying, that it rises from behind rocks of coral, glides in a universe of sapphire over fields of emerald, mounts its meridian among seas of crys- tal, and, tinging every cloud with indigo, sinks to slumber among beds of amethyst. - -:r h -*;> il*-.",,tf ,-.-:,; b. ls CLIII. After the same manner, the three * Cymbeline, Act ill. sc. 6. Also Richard iii. Act. i. sc. 2. 167 first periods of society were allegorically distin- guished by different aspects of nature, by com- parative amenity of climate and fecundity of soil. Thus the IRON age was deformed by clouds and storms; the bowels of the earth were searched for minerals, while its surface was utterly neglect- ed, untilled by the husbandman, and ungrazed by the shepherd. Every morning was gloomy, and every night tempestuous. In the SILVER age, the year was divided into seasons ; then were first experienced the heat of summer, and the vicissitudes of whiter. In the GOLDEN age, the seasons were distinguished by perpetual tem- perature; the earth was profusely fertile, and flowers, vines, olives, and every luxury of nature, had consequent effects upon the minds, manners, and morals of mankind. In nature, all was bloom- ing and captivating ; among men, all was virtue, security, and happiness. Every one, having na- ture for his guide, love and friendship were inheri tances, and law and property were alike unheard of and unknown.* CLIV. Hortensia, who, as you are well aware, * For an exquisite picture of primaeval simplicity, see Heiosius, Lib. ii. 168 is endowed with every quality of the heart, and every accomplishment of the mind, and in whom are concentrated the polished breeding of France, the dignity of Spain, the modesty of England, and the grace of Italy, discerns the likenesses of her friends in the features of particular flowers. If therefore, she wishes to indulge the pleasure of thinking of them, she retires to a little corner of her garden, and contemplates, with satisfaction, the flowers, which bear imaginary resemblances to the objects of her reflections. When she waters them, therefore, she appears to caress them. This idea of Hortensia has often reminded me of a beautiful passage in one of the Latin poets, where he inquires the title of that happy land, where the names of its kings are engraven on the flowers : and of two passages in another poet, where, in re- ference to the Hyacinth, he says, Ipse sues gemitos foliis inscripsit, et ai ai Flos habet inscriptum Met. Lib. 10. 215. Litera communis mediis, pueroque, viroque Inscripta est foliis; here nominis, ille querelae. Lib. 13. 397. 169 CLV. In conformity to the analogy, we have alluded to, the poets not only illustrate intel- lectual subjects by references and allusions to fa- miliar objects and appearances in Nature, but they also draw from the intellectual to embellish the material. These allusions are, however, the more pleasing, when they glance from the former to the latter, because, as Mr. Gilpin has justly remarked, material objects, being fixed in their appearances, strike every one in the same manner : whereas ideas, being different in most persons upon the same subjects, will seldom serve by way of illus- tration. Some instances, however, may be found in Shakespeare, and not a few in the metaphysic Cowley, where the contrary has been done with the happiest effect The great Northern Meteor, Walter Scott, has an instance in the Lady of the Lake. The summer's dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue: Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirred the trees, And the pleas'd lake, like maiden coy, Trembled, but dimpled not for joy ; The mountain shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest; 170 In bright nncertaiuty they lie, Like future Joys to Fancy's eye. So in a Welch Pennillion : To speak of Snow don's head sublime, Is far more easy, than to climb. So he, that's free from pain and care May bid the sick a smile to wear.* CLVI. But if the poets occasionally borrow from the intellectual to illustrate the material world, they repay with interest, when they borrow of the latter to adorn the former. When is the Father of Poetry weary of drawing similes from birds and in- sects, and lions and serpents ; from the phenomena of the heavens, and the more evident appearances of the earth ? Thus, when he would give force and majesty to the descent of Hector, he compares it to the fall of a rock from the top of a mountain. Nothing, can be more admirable, than this fine si- mile, which is not only perfect, when applied to the subject, it would illustrate, but is also a true and finished picture from Nature. CLVII. In Milton, what can be more pathe- * Jones. 32. tic, than where he compares blind Thamyris and Moeonides to the nightingale ? and is there a finer ins tan ce ofth application of the works of Na- ture to illustrate moral reflection, than where he likens the progress of crime to the lengthening shadows of a setting sun? What can be more grand, than where he similates Satan to Mount Teneriffe, and to the Moon in eclipse ? and when Shakespeare compares the unfortunate Richard to the evening Sun ; when he likens glory to a circle in the water, and the fall of Wolsey to a falling meteor, how affecting, how instructive do the subjects become !* CLVIII. In the writings of Solomon, these natural illustrations are to be found in almost every chapter. The Poem, entitled the Song of Solomon, is full of them. " I charge you, Oh ! daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that ye tell him, I am sick of love. " What is thy beloved, more than another be- loved, O fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than another beloved, that tbou so chargeth us ? * Note 67. 172 " My beloved is white and ruddy ; the chief among ten thousand. His eyes are the eyes of doves, by the river of waters, washed with milk and fitly set. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers ; his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh. His legs are as pillars of marble; his countenance is as Lebanon; excel- lent as the cedars ; his mouth is most sweet ; yea, he is altogether lovely : This is my beloved, this is my friend, Oh ! daughters of Jerusalem ." CLIX. Sometimes, as we have before ob- served, the poets draw similitudes from the common appearances and phenomena of the Heavens. Dryden has a fine metaphor in his play of All for Love, where Anthony compares himself to a meteor; an idea, more than once adopted by Rowe and Congreve. Haller com- pares Reason to the Moon, and Revelation to the Sun.* Horace affords innumerable instances. In Homer, and in Milton, in Shakespeare, and in Tasso, (who has scarcely a simile, in his Jeru- salem Delivered, that is not drawn from the country), references to the animal, the feathered and the vegetable world are perpetual. Those in- * Note 68. 173 stances in the Eneid, where Virgil compares Orpheus to a Nightingale ; the Love of Dido to the anguish of a wounded Stag, and the engage- ment of Tarchon and Venulus to the combat of an Eagle and a Serpent, are admirable. The last is, assuredly, the finest simile in all Virgil.* In common conversation, too, how often do we indulge ourselves in such expressions as, " he is as strong as an oak ;" " She is as mild as a dove ;" and when is the lover weary of comparing his mistress to violets, to lilies, and to roses ? CLX. No illustration, however, do 1 remem- ber, that so justly bears upon our subject, as that, where Addison contrasts the Iliad and the Eneid by the different aspects of grand and beau- tiful scenery. " The reading of the Iliad," says he, " is like travelling through a country unin- habited, where the fancy is entertained with a thousand savage prospects of vast deserts, wide and uncultivated marshes, huge forests, mishapen rocks and precipices. On the contrary, the Eneid is like a well-ordered garden, where it is * Vid. Virg. Lib. iv. 1. 99. Georg. Lib. iv. 1. 511. En. Lib. xi. 751. 174 impossible to find any part unadorned, or to cast our eyes upon a single spot, that does not pro- duce some beautiful plant or flower." In an- other place, when comparing those poets, who are indebted principally to their own resources and genius, with those, who have been formed by rules, and whose natural parts are chastised by critical precepts, Mr, Addison elegantly says, " the genius in both classes of authors may be equally great, but shews itself after a different manner. In the first, it is like a rich soil in a happy climate, that produces a whole wilderness of plants, rising in a thousand beautiful land- scapes, without any certain order or regularity. In the other, it is the same rich soil, under the same happy climate, that has been laid out in walks and parterres, and cut into shape and beauty by the skill of the gardener." * CLXI. Scenery not only inspires the poet but his reader also : for when do we enjoy his pictures aud relish his sentiments with such charmed per- ception, as when seated beneath a bovver, under a tree, or beside a rivulet ? In such and in other * Note 69. 175 scenes, even bad poetry and worse music are not unattended with a sensible pleasure. " The Flute of a Shepherd," as Dr. Beattie justly re- marks,* " heard at a distance in a fine summer's day, amidst a romantic scene of groves, hills, and waters will give rapture to the ear of the wanderer, though the tune, the instrument, and the musician be such, as he could not endure in any other place." Often has Colonna experienced the truth of these observations, and he never re- flects but with pleasure on the satisfaction he en- joyed, in listening to a blind old man, in the valley of Rhymney, about two miles from the grand towers of Caerphily Castle. CLXII. This valley is a narrow defile, winding at the feet of some cultivated mountains, down which several small streams occasionally murmur. It was one of the finest evenings of the month of August : every object was as tranquil, as if it had been midnight ; the sun, shooting along the val- ley, and tinting every object in the most capti- vating manner. Charmed with the spot, Colonna stopt his horse, dismounted, and sate himself Essays on Poetry and Music, part 1. ch. vi. 3. 176 upon the side of a bank, to enjoy, more at his leisure, the beauties of the scene before him : heightened, as they were, by the sombre aspect of the distant ruins. As he was thus indulging one of those delightful contemplations, which scenery like this never fails to awaken, he was inter- rupted by the approach of two men; one hale, hearty and young, the other old, blind and de- crepit. Entering into conversation with the younger, Colonna was informed that his companion was a good singer, and " a capable maker of songs." Upon this, Colonna requested the old man to sing him one ; to which he consented with little hesitation. It was a history of love ; and though the lines were sometimes too long and sometimes too short ; though the air was harsh and his voice discordant, Colonna listened with enthusiasm and praised with rapture. CLXIII. Of all departments of the Pictorial art, none has so great a power to charm the lover of nature, as the landscape. For though he is willing to give all due applause to Portrait and Historic painting, and would allow appropriate praise even to the lodges of Raphael, the drolle- ries of Brewer, and the grotesque pieces of Mor- 177 tuus Feltrensis he is far less charmed with any efforts of the painter than with a full, a clear, and well delineated landscape. In this department of his art, the painter's subjects are unlimited. He may rove among pastures and vineyards, rocks and forests, caverns and mountains, whose heads touch Heaven, without number and without satiety. Every object having its varied and appropriate blend- ing of colour, each tree, flower and plant gives scope for his talents; his rocks are green with the living moss, and peopled with the bounding goat ; his forests are clothed in the shade of sum- mer, or in the varied foliage of autumn ; his hills are capt with snow, and his vineyards bend beneath their purple wealth. Of every country, he translates the temples, theatres, and aqueducts of Rome, the pyramids of Egypt, and the pillars of Heliopolis and Palmyra on an English wall : the bird of Paradise hovers in enjoyment far from her native Gilolo and the sympathetic Melissa blooms upon a northern canvass. The vales of Savoy ; the glens of Media ; the Savannahs of Africa ; the rocks of Norway ; the groves of Italy; the mountains of the West; all quit their native soils, and hang suspended in a British palace. VOL. I. N 178 CLXIV. The landscapes of BLOEMEN OF ANTWERP were generally decorated with muti- lated statues and basso-relievos, with ruins, and light and elegant specimens of architecture ; ob- jects which contributed to give additional interest to figures, habited after oriental fashions, and re- markable for spirited lightness and graceful inflec- tion. MOLYN, in a peculiar manner, delighted in exhibiting the ocean in all its most sublime and terrible forms. From this passion for tempests and shipwrecks he acquired the appellation of Tempesta.* LORENKSSE, attending with rap- ture to the varied phenomena of the heavens, and aided by an Italian climate, produced the richest and most beautifully fringed horizons it is possible to conceive. BERGHEM of HAERLEM had the singular faculty of exhibiting great variety in all his landscapes,- with variety he united beauty, compass and grandeur. Mathematically correct iu his proportions, he was no less faithful in the essential requisites of light and shade, proximity and distance; his trees wave; his colours are luminous, almost transparent ; while his clouds * Note 70. 179 suspend in so natural a manner, that they seem tu float at the mercy of the winds. CLXV. CASTIGLIONE excelled principally in the drawing of castles and abbeys, in which no master has surpassed him. His sketches of rural scenery are agreeable and faithful, but in real merit they are far inferior to the bolder efforts of his pencil. SNEYDERS of Antwerp excelled every artist in the delineation of hunting pieces. He may be styled the Somerville of painting. The taste of the YOUNGER TENIERS led him to celebrate country wakes ; that of his father to the exhibition of shops and rural games. The son was distinguished by lightness of touch ; the father by a boldness of outline. BAMBOCCIO studied at Rome, but derived more from the en- virons of that celebrated city, than from the works of its greatest masters. He was so minute an observer of nature, that no scene, which struck him, was ever lost to his memory. His imagina- tion was in the highest degree elastic and active, and like Jordaens his facility in delineating was nearly as active as his powers of combination. In looking at Bamboccio's pieces the eye is com- pletely deluded, for the distances being well pre- N 2 180 served, every object has its appropriate relief and every shade its characteristic tint. CLXV[. GIOVANNI BELLA VITE delighted, after the manner of Bamboccio, to diversify his pictures with hordes of beggars, groups of gipsies and hunters ; and in exhibiting the agreeable va- riety of pastoral life. HOBBIMA of Antwerp may be styled the " Painter of Solitude," since he introduces but few figures into any of his laud- scapes. Like Claude, Nature was his mistress ; and he copied her with precision; a perfect master of perspective, whether he exhibits the head of a river or a lake, a temple, a grotto, or a ruin, the eye is agreeably deceived. In the knowledge of perspective, the modern Chinese* and the ancient masters were strikingly deficient. The Chinese have no knowledge of it whatever ; and though many treatises on the subject were extant in the time of Tully, particularly those * Though the knowledge of Perspective is unknown in China, it has been asserted by several intelligent travellers, that the art of delineating landscapes is in higher perfec- tion, than that of history or portrait painting. 181 written by Agatharcus, Anaxagoras,* Heliodorus, and Germinus of Rhodes, the Roman artists had made but little progress, on which account their landscapes were greatly inferior to their portrait and historical designs.f CLXVII. BREUGHEL studied landscape among the mountains of the Tyrol ; yet caprice attached him, principally, to the exhibition of the humorous and grotesque ; his son, however, was so great a master in his art, that Reubens condescended to employ him, in touching his ce- lebrated picture of the Terrestrial Paradise. Of the character of REUBENS, as a landscape painter, it is dangerous to say too much, and in- vidious to say too little. His merits have been over-valued by some, and under-rated by others, according to the respective tastes and prejudices of his critics. He was, beyond all question, the most eminent of the Flemish school, and yet Algarotti is not wide of the truth, when he ob- serves, that his compositions are not so rich, nor his touches so light, as those of Paul Veronese ; and though more soft in his chiaro-oscuro than * Vid. Vitruvius. In Praef. lib. vii. f Note 71. 182 Caravaggio, he has less delicacy than Vandyke, less simplicity in design and less truth in his car- nations than Titian. This artist was the favourite painter of the first Duke of Marlborough, who possessed eighteen of his best pieces. Compared with Poussin he had a decided advantage, and their two pictures of the deluge afford favourable occasions for comparison.* He had a bold style of pencilling peculiarly striking ; he electrifies the spectator by the violence of his bursts and by his decision of contrasts ; unlike the soft and attractive Claude, who charms us with a mild and fascinating wand. The one has all the captivating character of elegy, the other all the fire, the transition and boldness of the lyric. Reubens is the Pindar of landscape, Claude the Simonides. CLXVIII. GOYEN of Leyden excelled in ru- ral and marine landscapes. Peasants at their labour animated the one ; fishermen drawing their nets enlivened the other. His subjects were well selected, the perspective well managed, and the whole indicated a lightness and a freedom of touch, which never fail to captivate: Being, however, too rapid a painter to be always a mas- ter, many of his pieces would scarcely do honour * Note 72. 183 to the best of his pupils. JARDYN of Amster- dam rose in his profession to great eminence, but his pictures were light and superficial, with few objects; and the time he generally chose^ (noon,) prevented all natural richness of colouring. VAN OORT, frequently celebrated above his merits, de- rives his principal claim to the notice of posterity from being the master of Jordaens and Reubens. His portraits were faithful, but his landscapes were almost worthless. He degraded his art by painting merely for wealth, and corrupted his taste by the affectation of aspiring to have a manner of his own. He was ungrateful to nature; for though she had endowed him with a considerable share of talent, he neglected her; and would rather sketch from his own imagination, than take a lesson from the best study she could any where present. To be an imitator of man shews a poverty of fancy ; to imitate one's self is the essence of vanity and the worst species of pedantry. CLXIX. In the wild and awful scenes of Switzerland, MEYER of Winterthur studied his fascinating profession. He seldom walked without his pencil, and it were singular, if the ro- mantic scenes before him had not made him a 184 master of his art. " English artists,'' says MODS. Ziinmennann, " confess, that the aspect of nature in Switzerland, is too sublime and majestic for the pencil of art faithfully to reach; but how ex- quisite must be the enjoyments they feel upon those romantic hills, in those delightful valleys, upon the charming borders of those still and trans- parent lakes, where nature unfolds her various charms, and appears in her highest pomp and splendour; where the majestic oaks, the deep embowering elms, and dark green firs, which cover and adorn those immense forests, are pleasingly interspersed with myrtles, almond-trees, jessamines, pomegranates, and vines, which offer their humbler beauties to the view, and variegate the scene ! Nature is in no country of the globe, more rich and various, than in Switzerland." In a country, so profusely abounding in every requi- site of landscape, the painter possesses none of the qualities of genius, who produces not for posterity. CLXX. MURANT of Amsterdam, being a disciple of WOUVERMANNS, acquired that har- mony and brilliancy of colouring, by which that artist was so eminently distinguished. He was a minute painter ; minute even to tediousness, yet his 185 ruins, and castles, and villages, are beautifully con- ceived, and naturally executed. BACKHUYSEN of Enibden, superior to Vroom of Harlem,* was next to Vanderveldt, the most eminent pain- ter of marine landscapes. His storms are admira- ble, and direct copies from nature. It was his practice to hire resolute and undaunted seamen, to take him out in the midst of a storm, or at a time, when he knew a storm was approaching. In this awful and perilous school he studied: The result was excellence. ROUSSEAU, among the mountains of Switzerland and the vales of Italy, saw nature in her most imposing attitudes. With such models before him, capricious was the taste, that prompted him to devote so large a portion of his time and talents to the adorning of the walls of courts and the entrances into gardens ! From the frequency, with which he embellished his pieces with architectural objects, he may be called the Palladia of landscape. CLXXI. The paintings of ALBANI, as Mal- vasia says of him, breathe nothing but content and joy. Happy in a force of mind, that con- Note 73. 186 quered every uneasy feeling, his pencil wafted him through the gardens of Paphos to those of Cithera; from those of love and delight to the abodes of Apollo and the Muses.* BOURDON decorated his pieces with objects of Gothic ar- chitecture; POUSSIN with those of the Roman. Loveliness prevailed in all the paintings of Gaspar Poussin, the scenes he delineates, therefore, are truly captivating in their effect. There is an air of lively tranquillity in some, an air of tranquil mo- tion in others; and though the objects of archi- tecture, he exhibits, are not equal to those of Bourdon, he compensates for their regularity, by shading them with woods and rocks, and by placing them on beautiful and picturesque ele- vations. CLXXII. MARIA HELENA PANZACCHIA, correct in her outline, fascinated by the exquisite tint of her colouring; while DANDINI of Flo- rence could imitate the style of every school, and the colouring of every master. The former, had the faculty of exciting the imagination of her ob- servers in no common degree : This is one of the * Note 74. 187 most delightful effects which the art of painting is capable of producing ; for, it is not the actual scene presented to the eye, that constitutes the principal charm in landscape painting, it is the fine conceptions, which they awake in the mind, and which float, as it were, in the imagination, in endless variety of forms and indescribable fascina- tions of colour. CLXXIII. GIACOMO BASSANO delighted in painting villages with happy peasants, pursuing their various rural occupations. Without ele- gance of manner, or grandeur of conception, his touch was waving, spirited, and free. A lover of nature, he painted her as she generally chooses to exhibit herself, in rural drapery : but his morn- ings were not so faithful as his evening pieces, since he mostly painted with a violet tint. WIL- SON, upon his arrival in Italy, choosing not to confine himself merely to the study of art, which would have made him an imitator or a mannerist, studied nature in her finest attitudes, and among her grandest forms ; and having examined a pic- ture in the morning, would compare its fidelity with nature in the evening. It was this, that 188 enabled him to acquire his bold and original style. Upon his return to his native country, the imagery of Italy still hovered in his imagination, and he could never, in the sketching of landscapes, so far forget the lofty character of that lovely country,* as to content himself with delineating English scenes merely as they were. The slopes were too tame and uninteresting for his classic pencil. The result of all this was, that though he never failed to finish a good picture, he always failed to give a faithful portrait of the scene, which he in- tended to portray. CLXXIV. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS paint- ed only three regular landscapes : but it was not unusual with him to decorate the back-grounds of his portraits with some masterly sketches of rural scenery. In general landscape he was un- doubtedly inferior to GAINSBOROUGH; and yet the rural decorations, alluded to, were far su- perior to any similar ornament of that excellent artist. In clear, well defined landscape and archi- tectural embellishment, Gainsborough was, be- yond all question, the first artist of his age. In the exhibition of moon-light pieces WRIGHT of * Note 75. 189 Derby had no competitor, worthy of himself. His picture of the Lady in Comus is one of the finest specimens of modern art. CLXXV. SALVATOR ROSA loved rather to stand, as it were, upon the ruins of nature, than to wander, even among her most beautiful combinations. His imagination was bold and creative, his pencil elevated and sublime. Re- siding, in the early period of his life, with a band of robbers, the rocks, caves, dens, and mountains, which they inhabited, gave a decided impulse to his taste. In the wild and the terrible he stands without a rival ; his storms and tempests being the finest efforts of pictorial art. We behold with astonishment, with awe, and admiration. He was the Schiller of painting, as Schiller was the Rosa of poetry. CLXXVI. CLAUDE LORRAIN, the greatest of all landscape-painters, if we except Titian, studied in the fields. Every variation of shade, formed by the different hours of the day, and at different seasons of the year, by the refraction of light and the morning and evening vapours, he minutely observed. His distances are admirably 190 preserved and his designs broken into a variety of parts. His skies, beautifully illuminated, are harmonized with what is now called the Claude Lorrain Tint. His trees, particularly those he painted in fresco, are marked so admirably, that a judicious observer may distinguish the species of every tree. " An air of loveliness and content," as Gessner justly remarks, " pervades all the scenes, which Lorrain's pencil has created ; they excite in us that rapture, and those tranquil emo- tions, with which we contemplate the beauties of nature. They are rich without wildness and con- fusion ; though diversified, they every where breathe mildness and tranquillity; his landscapes are views of a happy land, that lavishes abundance on its inhabitants, under a sky, beneath which every thing flourishes in healthy luxuriance."* The pictures of Claude are now invaluable ; they speak to the heart and to the fancy with equal elo- quence ; every design indicating the richest taste and the most luxuriant imagination ; the fancy of the spectator riots, and while the heart is the abode of contemplative tranquillity, (il riposo di Claudio) he feels almost tempted to make a pil- grimage to the palace of Colonna at Rome, where * Note 76. 191 so many of this great master's pictures are still to be seen. CLXXVII. TITIAN was the sovereign of landscape, as Raphael was the sovereign of graceful attitudes. He studied nature in detail and finished for immortality. Like the rose-tree of Jericho, which neither withers nor decays, the pictures of Titian are as beautiful as first they were, when newly painted. In the union of force and softness of tint ; in lightness of touch ; in felicity of combination and harmony of colouring, he was unrivalled : he was the VIRGIL of landscape. The back-ground to his picture of the Martyrdom of St. Peter is said to be the finest landscape ever issuing from a mortal's hands ! CLXXVJII. But, however beautiful and noble the works of the most celebrated masters may be, when we would compare them with the produc- tions of nature, how comparatively poor and feeble do their efforts appear ! insipid are the out- lines of Salvator Rosa, the aerial tints of Claude, and the romantic groups of Ruysdale and Poussin ! 192 Lovely indeed the mimic works of art : But Nature's works far lovelier. I admire,' None more admires, the painter's magic skill, Who shews me that, which I shall never see, Conveys a distant country into mine, And throws Italian light on English walls ; But imitative strokes can do no more Than please the eye ; sweet Nature every sense The air salubrious of her lofty hills, The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales, And music of her woods ; no works of man May rival these, these all bespeak a power Peculiar and exclusively her own. COWPER. Thus, as in every other respect, how far infe- rior to nature are the finest efforts of our best masters. No wonder ! since language itself has comparative poverty, when it would presume to describe the boundless variety, which is observ- able in almost every prospect, that the eye beholds. Fields, vales, glens, rivers, and mountains, even when described by the most powerful pen, do but glide before the imagination in mysterious confu- sion ; if, therefore, one scene cannot be repre- sented with precision, how shall we attempt to give even a faint idea of its numerous combina- tions ? and how numerous those combinations are, may be, in some measure, conceived from the 193 knowledge we possess of the almost infinite com- binations of sound. Ah! who can paint Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, And lose them in each other, as appeal's In every bud that blows? If fancy then Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, Ah ! what shall language do ? To the works of art we can give length, and breadth, and thickness ; we can also colour them with appropriate shades ; but who can measure the productions of nature ? who sketch with such matchless skill ? The painter may select indi- vidual objects, an ivied bridge, a hanging tower, an embattled castle, and the larger creations of landscape; these he may, by a judicious dis- position of his materials, form into an entire whole, but the effort is one, and the effect is one ; it changes not with the seasons it knows none of the vicissitudes of winter, and therefore never glows with the renovation of spring. CLXX1X. This exhaustless variety produces VOL. i. o 194 in the mind a continual thirst after novelty ; for, were there but few combinations and fewer ob- jects, the mind would recoil upon itself, and its powers be confined, as it were, in a prison ; but as the variations of natural objects are unlimited, its faculties are proportionately enlarged, and, in consequence, the more it receives, the more capa- ble is it of the powers of receiving. Thus, man's appetite for novelty is nothing but the general result of nature's unbounded power of gratifying his thirst. CLXXX. If the final cause of sublimity be to exalt the soul to a more intimate alliance with its Creator, and that of beauty to enable the mind to distinguish perfection and truth, the love of novelty may not unreasonably be supposed to be implanted in our nature, in order to stimulate the mental powers to that degree of activity, which enables them continually to feel the effects of beauty and sublimity.* The lover of landscape is ever on the watch for new combinations : having derived enjoyment from a mountainous country, he finds a sensible gratification in traversing a long-extended plain. * Note 77. 195 a wide and boundless heath, and in permitting his eye to wander over an interminable track of ocean. Without darkness even the brilliancy of the sun would be no longer splendid ; without harmony, the most agreeable melody would fatigue the ear; without the interchange of rock and mountain, hill and valley, even the finest landscape in Gascoigny or Savoy, would pall upon the sight. CLXXXI. A love of novelty, however, which is not indulged as a beneficial mean for improve- ment, resembles the rose of Florida, the bird of Paradise, or the cypress of Greece: the first, the most beautiful of flowers, emitting no fra- grance ; the second, the most beautiful of birds, eliciting no song; the third, the finest of trees, yielding no fruit. It characterizes a weak and superficial mind; ill qualifies it for honourable ex- ertion; and peculiarly unfits its possessor from selecting brilliant subjects to exercise his fancy, or from furnishing correct and sound materials to form and elevate the understanding. To a judi- cious love of novelty, on the other hand, may we refer some of the pleasures we derive from con- trast ; the various changes of climate and seasons ; o 2 196 the observance of manners and customs of nations ; the charms of science, and the delights of poetry : since, by directing the attention to a diversity of objects, the mind roves, as it were, in an enchant- ed garden, imbibing rich and comprehensive ideas, which administer, in a manner the most vivid and impressive, to the organs of perception and taste. Directed to its proper end, the enlargement of the understanding by the acquirement of knowledge, it conduces to the improvement of every art, and contributes to the perfection of every science. CLXXXII. As the passion of legitimate love is engendered and confirmed by intimacy of con- nexion, so, on the other hand, the passion of ad- miration is awakened by distance, and kept alive by continual novelty. For these two passions, so often confounded with each other, are not more different in their origin than in their results. What we love becomes more endeared to us by repeti- tion ; what we admire, ceases to please us, when it ceases to be new. Thus is it with scenery ; the vine in our garden, the oak that shades our cottage, the woods, that shelter us from the north, are not more high, more shady, more neat or more fruitful, than other oaks, vines, cottages, and 197 woods; but, from long familiarity, they acquire a title to our preference by the interesting associa- tions, with which they are connected, and having acquired that title, we should be unwilling to ex- change them for the most beautiful vale of the south, or the proudest mountain of the north. On the other hand, let us climb the triple Cader- Idris, Ben Lomond, or Ben Nevis, and after viewing with admiration their several wonders, let us inquire of our own feelings, if we do not look around for other objects to gratify our desires? Novelty, once satisfied, admiration ceases; and when we cease to admire we become weary. CLXXXIII. Such is the difference between love and admiration in scenery. The one, be- getting tranquillity and content, requires no ali- ment ; the other, continually searching for food, engenders restlessness. Hence the traveller, who has long been indulging in the more elevated scenery of the Orisons, feels himself relieved, when he enters the green valleys of Piedmont, and the extended vales of Tuscany. The white sum- mits of St. Bernard, the Glaciers of the Rhetian, and the wonders of the peunine Alps, are ex- 198 changed with satisfaction for the calm and luxuri- ous meads of Novorese and Aosta. CLXXXIV. The passion of admiration, re- quiring something ever new, those objects, which excite the wonder and admiration of strangers, are viewed with indifference, bordering on frigidity, by the natives of the country, in which they are situated. Totally unconscious, and sometimes utterly unworthy of the beautiful country, in which they live, they require some one to point out to them the lovely scenes, by which they are sur- rounded, in the same manner, as many a nobleman of England, Germany and Italy, know the value of their own paintings and sculptures, only by the applause, bestowed on them by learned and en- lightened strangers. Thus was it when Petrarch visited Rome, in the 14th century. While view- ing the fragments of temples, the remnants of statues, the falling porticoes, the baths, the aque- ducts, the tesselated pavements, and, above all, the gigantic ruins of the Colosseum, he was indig- nant to find, that the Tribune Rienzi, and his friend Colonna were alone conversant in the his- tory, and appeared alone to sympathize in those noble and magnificent ruins. " No one," said he, 199 were more ignorant of Rome, than the Romans themselves." CLXXXV. Some scenes there are, which ac- quire an increased interest from being only par- tially revealed to us. Landscape has her secrets as well as women. We must not see every thing at once, nor must we see every thing there is to be seen. The rose, in full display of beauty, is not so captivating, as when, opening her paradise of leaves, she speaks to the fancy, rather than the sight. Thus the imagination, which so frequently borrows from nature, repays her obligations, by giving additional grace to all her beauties. In poetry, the light touches of Anacreon fire the fancy, in a much higher degree, than the minute descriptions of Ovid;* the nervous brevity of Lucretius defines more clearly to the mental eye, than all the profuse delineations of Cowley: and the obscure image of death, in Milton's Paradise Lost, is even more horrific, than the Ugolino of Dante. The observation holds good in reference to landscape; and hence arises the cause, why straight lines are so peculiarly offensive, and why * Si qua latent, meliora putat. 200 Alpine views are not so agreeable, for any length of time, as those that are observed from the sides, or at the feet of high and woody mountains. Lakes must wind, and trees must hide, or the beauties of the finest scene will pall upon the sight. Had we the Venus de Medicis always un- veiled before us, we should soon cease to be moved by the whiteness of her bosom, and the symmetry of her contour. CLXXXV1. From novelty springs the plea- sure, which is ever attendant on judicious contrast. The earth, and " all that it inhabits," animals, birds, fishes, and insects; flowers, plants, trees, and rivers; the air, the clouds, the stars, nay, the whole universal region of infinity, are all one vast, one interminable tissue of decided contrasts ; so also are the feelings, the opinions and passions of man, the form of his external frame, as well as the organic principles of his mind. In music and in painting,* in architecture and mechanics, indeed throughout the whole circle of the sciences and the arts are the laws of contrast acknowledged and con- firmed : hence is it, that the constitutions, which Note 78. 201 present the most nicely opposed contrasts or ba- lances, are the best in theory, and the most reduci- ble to practice.* Thus even the contrary factions of a state contribute to the well administration of a government. CLXXXVII. Contrast, in repeated instances, adds to the beauty even of the most captivat- ing landscape.f Hafod derives many of its charms from the dreariness of Plinlimmon ; and Chatsworth, the noble domain of the Duke of Devonshire, becomes infinitely more agreeable to the traveller, who journeys from the North, than to him, who travels from the South. The poet, therefore, is justified in his observation, when he says, that Chatsworth is as delightful to him, who has approached it, by the deserts of the north of Derbyshire, as are the Towers of Venice to the weary eye of a sailor. Qualiter in mediis, quam non speraverat, urbcm Attonitus Veiir tain n a vita ceruit aquis ; Sic improvise emergens e montibus invis Attollit sese Devoniana domus.* Note 79. | Note 80. j Note 81. 202 CLXXXVIII. Aware of the results of con- trast, Dramatic and Epic Poets* are in the constant habit of exercising their skill in exhibit- ing them. How many admirable instances do we observe in Shakespeare and Racine ! and what a fine example is that in Lucan, where he con- trasts the fallen condition of his hero, after the battle of Pharsalia, with the happy state of his more prosperous fortune, when, at the head of the Commonwealth, he was esteemed, by his party, the greatest general and the best citizen, Rome had ever produced. A contrast, equally well drawn, was exhibited in the British House of Commons on the memorable night, in which the odious traf- fic in slaves was, by a vote of the House, de- clared to be for ever illegal, and the persons, en- gaged in the trade, for ever infamous. After many distinguished characters had delivered their opinions, the Solicitor General rose from his seat, and after a long and argumentative speech, in which he took occasion to recapitulate and to combat many of the objections, that had been urged to the measure, he concluded with an elo- quent representation of the gratitude, the vote of * Note 82. 203 the House would call from posterity, and of the happiness, which many of the younger members, who were present, would have in beholding, what they had anticipated with all the generous ardour of youth, expressed by some of them in a cor- responding glow of language, the benign effects of this measure upon the Negroes and the whole property of the Colonies, and the prosperity of the country at large. When he looked to the man, now at the head of the French monarchy, sur- rounded, as he was, with all the pomp of power, and all the pride of victory, distributing kingdoms to his family and principalities to his followers, seeming, when he sat upon his throne, to have reached the summit of human ambition, and the pinnacle of earthly happiness ; and when he fol- lowed that man into his closet, or to his bed, and considered the pangs, with which his solitude must be tortured, and his repose banished, by the re- collection of the blood, he had spilled, and the oppressions, he had committed ; and when he contrasted those pangs of remorse with the feelings, which must accompany his honourable friend, Mr. Wilberforce, from that House to his home, after the vote of the night should have confirmed the object of his humane and unceasing labours ; 204 when he should retire into the bosom of his happy and delighted family ; when he should lay himself down in his bed, reflecting on the innumerable voices, that would be raised in every quarter of the globe to bless him ; how much more pure and perfect felicity must he enjoy in the conscious- ness of having preserved so many nations of his fellow-creatures, than the man, with whom he had compared him, on the throne, to which he had waded through crimes, through slaughter and oppression!" No one, my friend, will be sur- prised, that the honourable Member should sit down amid three distinct and universal cheers. CLXXXIX. At early morning, when we are observing images of rural happiness, and re- calling to mind the pastoral and hunting ages, when the woods and glens echoed with the twang of the horn, or the reed of the shepherd, how melancholy do our reflections become, when, by virtue of association, we contrast them with a country, wasted by want, or depopulated by a successfully invading army ! Let us illustrate the subject of contrast, as it affects the human race, and as it serves to shew the wide and lamentable 205 difference between man and man, by exhibiting a CONTRAST OF SOVEREIGNS. Nothing more dreadful can be conceived, than the horrors, which ensued during the conquest and after the subjugation of the Crimea, by Ca- therine of Russia. Oh ! my friend, what a con- trast do the consequences, arising from those fatal events, produce to the cheerful and happy scenes, we have the satisfaction of witnessing every day! Of the Conquest let us say nothing ; its consequences were too great for human sympathy to read without feelings of indignant horror : the fate of Ismael, of Warsaw, and of Prague, were scarcely less dread- ful : and, as a suitable after-piece to the fatal trage- dy, after the desolation of towns and villages with- out number, 75,000 Christians were expelled their country, of whom 50,000 perished in the deserts ! Of the effects of these barbarous proceedings, all springing from an insatiable thirst of conquest, the following picture is but a feeble outline : " They laid waste the country ; cut down the trees ; pulled down the houses ; overthrew the sacred edifices of the natives, with all their pub- lic buildings ; destroyed the public aqueducts ; insulted the Tartars in their acts of public wor- 206 ship ; tore up from the tombs the bodies of their ancestors, casting their reliques upon dunghills, and feeding swine out of their coffins ; annihilated all their monuments of antiquity ; breaking up alike the sepulchres of saints and pagans, and scat- tering their ashes in the air ; auferre, rapere, trucidare, falsis nominibus, Imperium: atque 1BI SOLITUDINEM FACIUNT PACEM APPEL- LANT.* Though such are the general effects of war upon the feelings and comforts of those per- sons, who are the most subject to its miseries, yet, by an unaccountable fatality, the people of almost every country have in all ages conspired, even with- out the apology of passion, to consider those their most inveterate enemies, who have been labour- ing, through a long and tumultuous life, for their peace, their prosperity, and their happiness ! CXC. Let us compare the above conduct of the Empress Catherine with that of the late Em- peror of China. In the year 1782 the island of Formosa was visited by a dreadful calamity. A vio- lent tempest raged for several hours ; the sea rose in mountains and covered the whole face of the island, sweeping away every moveable, and leaving the shops, houses, and out-buildings a * Clarke's Travels, vol. i. p. 471. fl07 confused heap of ruins. The crops were entirely destroyed, and the unfortunate inhabitants re- duced to beggary and want. When this terrible event was signified to the Emperor, he wrote to his minister, Tsong-tou, the following letter. " I command you to get the best information you can of the different losses, sustained by the inha- bitants of the island, and to transmit the particu- lars to me, in order that I may give them every assistance to repair them. My intention is, that all the houses, which have been thrown down, shall be rebuilt entirely at my expense ; that those be re- paired, which are only damaged ; and that provi- sions, and every thing, which the people stand in immediate want of, be supplied them. 1 should feel much pain, were even one among them to be neglected: I, therefore, recommend the utmost diligence and the strictest inquiry, as I am de- sirous, that none of my subjects should entertain the least doubt of the tender affection, I have for them : and that they should know, that they are all under my eyes, and that I will myself provide for their wants."* The former of these sovereigns is * The reign of Kamhi, to whom Czar Peter I. sent an embassy in the year 1719, was called the Tay-Ping, " the 208 usually called the GREAT : the latter has received no peculiar appellation. Alas ! what is the descrip- tion of persons, we dignify by the name of great ? For my own part, my Lelius, I never have insulted the virtues of William Penn by admiring Alex- ander or Borgia, nor did I ever drop a tear of regret upon the tomb of the most celebrated war- rior in Westminster Abbey. Those men, whom the generality of mankind call HEROES, and who have so often stained valleys and rivers with na- tive blood, fret a dangerous hour upon the pub- lic stage : thousands shout to them applauses,* while the truly great, good, and illustrious, hide their faces with their robes, and wait a surer and a nobler recompense, than the honour or applause of man, in a distant but a better world ! CXCI. Since we are upon the imposing subject of Greatness, let us call to our recollection the names of a few of those men, whom the writers of history designate great : doubtless they were the fathers of their country; and it will give you " the reign of great rest and peace." What a noble eulo- gium ! and what a contrast did this reign present to that of the far-famed monarch of the north ! * Note 83. 209 pleasure to reflect on the memory of so many excellent men : for greatness, of course, has re- ference to goodness, since the one and the other are the distinguishing characteristics of the ETEK- NAL himself: and it is not for one moment to be supposed, that historians are guilty of such impiety to the Deity, or are such traitors to the welfare of mankind, as to call those great, who were only worthy of a public scaffold ! Every good man is not a great one, it is true, but every great one must of necessity be a good one : and yet, who are the wretches, whom historians exalt to the admira- tion of the world ? Who are they but Alexander, and Antiochus, and Mahomet, and Frederick, and Peter, and Cathenne, and Charles the Twelfth, and Tamerlane, and a host of monsters, equally base and equally detestable ? Shades of the im- mortal Phocion, Alfred, and Stanislaus, in what ignominious society are your honoured memories associated ! CXC1I. Contrasts are the springs of our hap- piness. Without a knowledge of the muriatic, we should be ignorant of the sweet ; without the sweet, we should be incapable of the pungent: VOL. i. p 210 Had noon no excess, we should never enjoy the temperature of evening ; were there no darkness, we could never appreciate the value of light: without labour, who could be sensible of the en- joyments of rest ? and were we not sometimes vi- sited by pain, where would be found the captiva- tions of pleasure? Such is the organization of man. That we could have been formed in such a manner, as to have a continual appetite for enjoy- ment without any of the contrasts, arising from vi- cissitude, is as certain, as that we possess a ge- neral appetite for our food, even though we feel no pain from partial hunger, or from temperate thirst. But it has pleased the Eternal thus to frame us. He has decreed, also, a temporary success to vice, and a temporary depression to virtue. Regardless of the means, he employs, the VILLAIN prospers. He rolls in wealth, and be- comes the petty despot of his village, the Napoleon of his neighbourhood. His will is his logic, power is his mistress, and money his God. He dies ! Unpitied, unlamented, he is almost hissed and hooted into his grave. He awakes! Another world opens itself : The dream of his hopes, that death is an eternal sleep, has vanished ! 211 CXCIII. The GOOD MAN, on the other hand, frequently pines from day to day: His efforts are unavailing: Industry brings no harvest of profit: every object, he touches, crumbles into ashes ! Weary and fainting, he droops into the midnight of the grave ! His body consigned to the earth, his friends weep over his monument, and lament the hard destiny of a man, adorned with all the embel- lishments of education, and animated with all the impulses of virtue ! They look at each other, in all the amiable ignorance of grief, and appear to anticipate the question, whether indeed there is an all-governing Providence! In the meantime the soul of their friend has separated from its tenement of clay, it has passed through it aurelia* state, and has awaked to landscapes of matchless beauty, and to scenes of endless happiness ! CXCIV. Man is no more permitted to fa- thom the purposes of his Creator, than the mean- est soldier of an army is presumed to know the secrets of his General. Continual movements are ordered without any visible design ; long and weary marches are made in the dead of night ; fortresses Note 84. P2 212 of little apparent importance are invested ; he breaks down bridges ; moves along narrow defiles ; animates his troops at one time, while he restrains their impatience at another. Wild and angry con- jectures, ceaseless murmurs, and innumerable complaints are echoed through the camp. The moment, however, at length arrives ! The trum- pet sounds ; the signal is given ; the charge is made. It is irresistible ! the place, the time, the manner having been well chosen. The ranks of the enemy are broken ; thousands join in the pur- suit ; the notes of victory sound from hill to hill ; murmurs, and conjectures, and complaints, all are at an end ; the whole design is cleared up ; every one gives himself to joy ; every one resounds and celebrates the praises of his General ! CXCV. An attentive investigator observes no monotony in landscape. Day succeeds to morn- ing; evening to noon ; and night to evening : Sum- mer to spring, and winter to autumn. Even the colour of the Sea itself frequently changes in the course of a day. When the sun shines, the ocean is cerulean ; when it gleams through a mist, it is yellow ; and as the clouds pass over, it not un- frequently assumes the mingled colours of the 213 clouds themselves. The same uniformity of con- trast may be observed throughout the whole of Nature; even the Glaciers of the Orisons present- ing varied aspects, though clad in perpetual snow. At dawn of day they appear saffron ; at noon their whiteness is that of excess ; and, as the sun sinks in the west, their convex and peaked summits reflect, with softened lustre, the matchless tintings of an evening sky. CXCVI. These alternations cause a perpetual variety in the same objects. Hence the frequent interchanges, which exhibit themselves in a moun- tainous country, give it a decided advantage over open and campaign regions ; since the degrees of light and shade, as the hills and valleys incline to- wards each other, are blended, reflected, and con- trasted in a thousand different ways.* It is the to- tal want of contrast, that fatigues the traveller over vast and boundless deserts, more than the ac- tual distances, or the sands themselves. The an- cients, ignorant of the magnetic powers of the needle, were able to travel over deserts only by night; when the sun appeared, therefore, they were obliged to halt. Quintus Curtius, in de- Note 85. 214 scribing the deserts of Bactria, says, that a great part of them were covered with barren sands, parched by heat, and affording nourishment for neither men, beasts, nor vegetables. When the winds blew from the Pontic sea, they swept before them immense quantities of sand, which, when heaped together, appeared like mountains. All tracks of former travellers were thus totally obli- terated. The only resource left, therefore, was to travel by night, guiding their course by the direction of the stars. Silius Italicus thus de- scribes the journey of Hannibal's ambassadors to the temple of Jupiter Ammon, situated in the deserts of Lybia. Ad finein coeli medio tenduntur ab ore Squalentes campi. Tumulum natura negavit Immensis spatiis, nisi quern cava nubila torquens Construxit Turbo, impact a glomeratus arena : Vel, si perfracto populatus carcere terras Africus, aut pontuin spargens per aequora Corns, Invasere truces capientem proelia campum, Inque vicem ingesto cumularunt pulvere montes. Has observatis valles enavimus astiis : Namque dies confundit iter, perditemque profundo Errantem campo, et semper media arva videntem, Sidoniis Cynosura regit fidissima nautis. tiilius Italicus, Lib. 3. 215 Lucan, whose description of the march of Cato over the deserts, is unquestionably the finest portion of the Pharsalia, adds a circumstance, that must have considerably augmented the diffi- culties of the march. Qui nullas videre domos, videre ruinas : Jainquc iter omne latet; nee sunt discrimina terra; Ulla, nisi ^therias medio vchit aequore flammce. Sideribus novere vias : nee Sidera Ma Ostendit Lybicte finitor drculus or