once present to my eye; and several days of intoxication were lost or enjoyed before I could descend to a

it is easy to conceive his inability to take many copies; but such a correspondence is not to be kept up at all without an accurate attention to the routine of duties. Possibly an able man might produce a selection from this immense repertory, which would enrich the literary history of the last century. The library is rather useful than curious, and is more remarkable for printed books than for MSS., which are almost all at St Laurent. There is however a fine collection of Grecian mathematicians, of which several have never been made public; a numerous assemlage of the first editions of the fifteenth century, and a book printed at Venice in the sixteenth, which is very valuable for its rarity and its subject. It is the Code of Laws of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, which passed over into the island of Cyprus under the house of Lusignan, and which seems to have been attended to under the government of the Venetians. This book is in Italian, and consequently only a translation: I have read in it the confirmation of a circumstance related by all the historians-that Godfrey of Bouillon would never be crowned, because he would not wear a crown of gold, where his God had borne one of thorns. This book has been undiscovered by all the literati; it is even thought that Muratori was ignorant of it. It would be very useful in the construction of a history of the Crusades. Hence we proceeded to the church of Santa Croce: the architecture is unimportant as architecture; but it is not without secret respect that I have beheld the tombs of Galileo and of Michal Angelo,-of the restorer of arts, and the reviver of philosophy: men of a genius truly powerful and original. They have exalted their country much more than conquerors and politicians. The Tartars have had a Jenghiz Khan, and the Goths an Alaric; but we may be allowed to turn our eyes from the blood-besprinkled deserts of Scythia, to fix them with pleasure upon Athens and upon Florence.

Florence, August 29, 1764.]—We went in a body, with sir H. Mann, to pay a visit to the marshal Botta, who has just arrived from Vienna in ten days, a fatiguing journey for an old man of seventy-seven; but he appears altogether green and vigorous. He received us politely, but addressed himself exclusively to sir Horace. He is a very extraordi..

cool and minute investigation. My guide was Mr Byers, a Scotch antiquary of experience and taste; nary man who has contrived to reach the most elevated posts on the strength of his mistakes. He has been employed in splendid embassies and in the command of armies, and is at this time field-marshal, colonel of a regiment of infantry, head of the regency of Tuscany, and vicar general of the empire in Italy. Much complaint exists as to his pride and avarice; refusing the most necessary expenditure, in order to send large sums to Vienna; and in the seven or eight years that he has governed Tuscany, he has done nothing for the good of the country. His conduct is in consequence unfavourably compared with that of his predecessor, the count of Richecourt, who adequately represented his prince, concluded a most advantageous concordat with the court of Rome, suppressed the inquisition, put a limit to the number and the wealth of convents by a law of mortmain, constructed a high road to Bologna, &c.

Florence, September 1, 1764.]-Attended sir Horace Mann as usual, when I met with a Prussian baron, of whose name I am ignorant. He has been travelling for four or five years, and has visited England, and speaks very good English. He strikes me to be a very pleasant man, and no way deficient in sense. I have conversed with him on the subject of his king: it is allowable to be curious in regard to such a prince: I perceive that he more admires than loves him. Is he in fault? One of his uncles allowed himself to be cut in pieces rather than encounter the coarse and unavoidable reproaches of a master, for being unable to accomplish some impossible piece of service. The king of Prussia values himself upon his knowledge of physiognomy, a science which he esteems, and which is agreeable to kings, because it apparently bestows upon them the attributes of a superior being. The king despises every man who appears intimidated in his presence; but he distinguishes not between the courtier who trembles before a king, and one who simply feels the superiority of a great

man.

Pisa, September 24, 1764.]—I have encountered at Pisa my relation, the commandant Acton, with his nephew, who have overloaded us with attentions. I must pity this old man, who at the age of sixty years finds himself deserted

R

but in the daily labour of eighteen weeks the powers of attention were sometimes fatigued, till I was myself qualified, in a last review, to select and study the capital works of ancient and modern art. Six weeks were borrowed for my tour of Naples, the most populous of cities relative to its size, whose luxurious inhabitants seem to dwell on the confines of paradise and hell-fire. I was presented to the boy-king by our new envoy, sir William Hamilton, who, wisely diverting his correspondence from the secretary of state to the Royal Society and British Museum, has elucidated a country of such inestimable value to the naturalist and antiquarian. On my return I fondly embraced, for the last time, the miracles of Rome; but I departed without kissing the foot of Rezzonico, (Clement XIII,) who neither possessed the wit of his predecessor Lambertini, nor the virtues of his successor Ganganelli. 3. In my pilgrimage from Rome to Loretto, I again crossed the Apennine; from the coast of the Adriatic I traversed a fruitful and populous country, which could alone disprove the paradox of Montesquieu, that modern Italy is a desert. Without adopting the exclusive prejudice of the natives, I sincerely admire the paintings of the Bologna school. I hastened to escape from the sad solitude of Ferrara, which in the age of Cæsar was still more desolate. The spectacle of Venice afforded some hours of astonishment; the university of Padua is a dying taper; but Verona still boasts her amphitheatre; and his native Vicenza is adorned by the classic architecture of Palladio: the road of Lombardy and Piedmont-(did Montesquieu by all the English for having changed his religion; sinking under infirmities, and without a hope of returning to his country, he has settled himself in the midst of a people whose language even he has never been able to acquire. In the whole world his nephew alone remains to him, whose reputation has suffered much from the decline of his uncle, which has been attributed to his mismanagement.

find them without inhabitants?)-led me back to Milan, Turin, and the passage of Mount Cenis, where I again crossed the Alps in my way to Lyons.

The use of foreign travel has been often debated as a general question; but the conclusion must be finally applied to the character and circumstances of each individual. With the education of boys, where or how they may pass over some juvenile years with the least mischief to themselves or others, I have no concern. But after supposing the previous and indispensable requisites of age, judgment, a competent knowledge of men and books, and a freedom from domestic prejudices, I will briefly describe the qualifications which I deem most essential to a traveller. He should be endowed with an active, indefatigable vigour of mind and body, which can seize every mode of conveyance, and support, with a careless smile, every hardship of the road, the weather, or the inn. The benefits of foreign travel will correspond with the degrees of these qualifications; but in this sketch those to whom I am known will not accuse me of framing my own panegyric. It was at Rome, on the 15th of October 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind. But my original plan was circumscribed to the decay of the city rather than of the empire: and, though my reading and reflections began to point towards that object, some years elapsed, and several avocations intervened, before I was seriously engaged in the execution of that laborious work.

*

I had not totally renounced the southern provinces of France, but the letters which I found at Lyons were expressive of some impatience. Rome and

Now the church of the Zocolants, or Franciscan friars. S.

Italy had satiated my curious appetite, and I was now ready to return to the peaceful retreat of my family and books. After a happy fortnight, I reluctantly left Paris, embarked at Calais, again landed at Dover, after an interval of two years and five months, and hastily drove through the summer dust and solitude of London. On the 25th of June 1765, I arrived at my father's house; and the five years and a half between my travels and my father's death (1770) are the portion of my life which I passed with the least enjoyment, and which I remember with the least satisfaction. Every spring I attended the monthly meeting and exercise of the militia at Southampton; and by the resignation of my father, and the death of sir Thomas Worsley, I was successively promoted to the rank of major and lieutenant-colonel commandant; but I was each year more disgusted with the inn, the wine, the company, and the tiresome repetition of annual attendance and daily exercise. At home, the economy of the family and farm still maintained the same creditable appearance. My connection with

Mrs Gibbon was mellowed into a warm and solid attachment; my growing years abolished the distance that might yet remain between a parent and a son; and my behaviour satisfied my father, who was proud of the success, however imperfect in his own lifetime, of my literary talents. Our solitude was soon and often enlivened by the visit of the friend of my youth, Mr Deyverdun, whose absence from Lausanne I had sincerely lamented. About three years after my first departure, he had emigrated from his native lake to the banks of the Oder in Germany. The res angusta domi, the waste of a decent patrimony by an improvident father, obliged him, like many of his countrymen, to confide in his own industry; and he was entrusted with the education of a young prince, the grandson of the margrave of Schavedt, of the royal family of Prussia. Our friendship was never cooled; our correspondence was sometimes in