with Sir R. Walpole, that poets made bad men of busi ness, and were fitter for speculation than for practice. He warned me of this, and fairly told me if I continued silly (as he called my romance) he must leave it to romance to promote me.

"I accepted the conditions, and went to court, which dazzled and, for a little while, pleased me. I fluttered about, and sunned myself in smiles, all but those of my patron, who was too matter-of-fact for me.

"My first quarrel with him was, that he seldom went into the country, and when there always wanted to get back again; yet had the cruelty (which I thought tyranny) to send me sometimes to town about business, in August, while he remained behind:-though I knew he could not enjoy himself.

"His notions of a country-seat were such as might be expected. What misery, on laying down a book to wish for a stroll in a flower garden, yet have to walk a quarter of a mile for it, and then find the door locked.

"But he cared little for roses, and was always among his papers; and (strange as I thought it) wanted me to be so too. This want of ideality discomposed me, and I thought myself in every thing but power and riches (trifling ingredients) above him. He is in trammels, thought I, with all his honours; he is ever behind the throne in the House of Lords, or under the gallery of the House of Commons. He cannot, like me, light his lamp to Ariel or Oberon, or the field of Shrewsbury, or Bosworth; nor, if the weather be soft, can he shut up his papers, and fly to the forest. It will be seen that I fled there too often.

"I did not dislike, nay, I even liked London; but it was chiefly because it prepared me the better for the country. I laid in store of ideas; I contemplated artificial elegance; I gained an insight into artificial character, and I then flew, with tenfold alacrity, to the enjoyment of liberty wherever it took me. Rough nature pleased me the more because I knew its contrast. But nature, rough or smooth, was what I wanted. In town every thing was masked. This may seem to afford greater scope for the imagination, of which I am a votary. But no! there is nothing to spring from; no original spark to set all in a blaze. For a man of the world London is charming; but, spite of my lot, I was not a man of the world.

"How I always loved Gray's Ode, who, in a twilight

walk, used to think he saw Parnassus in every hill, and Aganippe in every fountain. What was it that did this? Fancy; and twilight, which permits Fancy to work. Broad day, or the hum of a town, would have destroyed it in a moment. But I had more fancy even than Gray, though not so good a poet; for even in broad daylight I could often see Hebe's cheek in a milkmaid, and fairy steps in a town meadow.

"Think not, however, from what I have said, that even towns can give no play to the fancy. Many would say the fancy is there best exercised. It is certain that she flutters much (I will not say most) in courts and feasts. When I have seen my patron's niece, Lady Anne, sweeping by in silken sheen, with lace and diamonds, and waving plumes, I have thought her a princess, and gone home and 'dreamed of her as such. The next day I have found her in a mob-cap. The illusion was gone; but I was happier while it lasted than unhappy at its being dispelled: so, on the whole, I gained by it.

66

Perhaps you will call me mad; but does Bacon write madness when he says there is a natural, though a corrupt, love of falsehood that gives pleasure? Truth,' says he, 'is an open daylight, that does not show the masks and mummeries and triumphs of the world half so stately and daintily as candlelight. Doth any man doubt that if there were taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, and imaginations, as one would, but it would leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition ?'*

"This was my creed; and I did not repent it, though my patron and kinsman told me I should never do, and, reminding me of my conditions, talked of my quitting my employment.

"I heard it with great independence; nay, with something like contempt. Shall I own the truth? All the time the lecture was going on a pot of wallflower smelt so sweet under my nose, that the country, in beautiful pastoral, rose before my eyes. While Sir John talked of docketing letters, I was thinking of making hay; while he referred to Downing-street, I was upon the banks of the Dee; and when he mentioned parliamentary eloquence, I was dreaming of the nightingale. It was * Bacon's Essays, Art. Truth,

VOL. II.-13

G

this that gave me a sort of elevation of spirit in my reply which absolutely astonished my patron. His astonishment reached its height when I took him at his word, and said I would quit his service.

"We did not quarrel, and I thought Lady Anne squeezed me tenderly by the hand when I took leave of her-there certainly was a tear in her eye, and I wrote a sonnet upon it.

"Restored to liberty, I added what I could to my mother's jointure, and reducing myself to what I thought a competent allowance, I escaped to the lake of Geneva, on purpose to row where St. Preux had rowed with Eloise to the rocks of Miellerie. I found no trace of him: but the place did much, and fancy the rest. The realities of Rome have not interested more than the mere illusions of these scenes. Yes! divine Jean Jacques! I have followed thee in thy dreams with a pleasure which none but a kindred dreamer could feel. I have sought thee at Charmettes, and tracked thee to Savoy. My heart has beat in the same places as thine. Thou art one whom I could for ever admire: thy carelessness of the future, thy confidence in the present, thy fond imaginations, and the enchantments of thy sentiment-all make me bow down before the altar of thy genius, and adore thee as an Indian adores the sun."

This apostrophe, uttered with up-raised hands and kindling eyes, for a while stopped the enthusiast in his narration. Some of the company caught a little of his fire, and the French gentleman was delighted with it, and complimented him upon his feeling. De Vere also had been particularly interested by other parts of his narration; and though he felt that, with all his imagination, Rousseau was a scoundrel, he feared to express an opinion, lest it should interrupt the story. Wentworth had watched the whole with fixed attention, and entreated the speaker to proceed.

Mr. Rivers went on. "I roamed about the Alps, and pursued the object of my devotion to Chamberri; where, however, I could not help wondering that a man even of imagination could find play for it and compose letters, or any thing else, while in the sensible contemplation of nothing but chimney-tops and house-tiles. But Rousseau was the prince of imagination.

"I returned to France, and roamed on foot through the delices of the pays de Henri Quatre; and thence all over

the Pyrenees, on the Spanish side as well as this. My warmth of fancy never left me; every smuggler was a condottieri, every priest a troubadour. It is certain that I many a time loitered to hear a guitar until I knew not where to sup, and have actually slept in my cloak at a cottage-door. But remember, this was a climate of roses, of warmth, of geniality (to coin a word), of which we poor Saxons in vain endeavour to form an idea.

"Once, after having consumed a whole day in exploring the Pic de Midi, where I had seen nothing but the Iserre, a roaming wolf, or a distant lake, I began to long for a shelter wherein to pass the night. It had now closed in; but I knew that the moon would soon rise; and as I had continued descending till I had got to the base of the mountain, I hoped quickly to find what I wanted. I was not disappointed; for the moon, getting a little above the horizon, by illuminating two or three cottage-casements to the east, showed me I had returned to the haunts of men. It was the hamlet of St. Elmo. I looked for some little auberge, such as the smallest village in England generally affords, but could discover none. It did not disturb me, for by experience I knew I might trust to the good-nature of the people. I only stopped to ascertain, by outward appearance, at which habitation I had the chance of being received with least inconvenience. With this view I leaned over the gate of a little orchard, and for a while enjoyed the lovely freshness of the herbage. All was silent; but suddenly the silence was broken, not disagreeably, by the sound of a fife playing at a distance. The tone was now merry, now grave, but chiefly the former. This was quite enough to put me in motion; so entering the gate, I directed my steps to the opposite hedge, whence the sound came, and found three or four young lads, and as many girls, in the basque dress, who had left their supper to enjoy a dance by the light of the moon.

"It had just ceased as I came up, and I heard the fifer, with a tone of commendation and superiority at the same time, saying to a young girl, Vraiment tu as bien fait ma belle; presque aussi bien que nous autres, n'ayez pas peur. Mais continuez,' said he, addressing the whole party, vive la dance! vive la gioia! With this he resumed his fife, and the little troop prepared to renew their sport. I was at a loss whether to break in upon them by showing myself, or to go back to the house and make my

wants known: but I could not help stopping to remark the young person who had been the object of the fifer's commendation. 1, however, could discover nothing, though the lights in the sky grew brighter and brighter, except that she was remarkably graceful, and moved in beautiful time. I never longed so much for a dance in my life.

"Not knowing how best to announce myself, I put my flute together, and made a second to the air to which the party were dancing, which by no means had a bad effect. But it stopped them, and all came towards me at once with curiosity, but not rudeness. One of the young men, indeed the fifer (who seemed to preside), exclaimed, Que diable, que veaux tu! But it went no further, particularly when I told them I was a stranger who loved music and dancing as well as they; was benighted, and knew not where to find refreshment. But I observed the young girl retreated hastily to the house. I was soon discovered to be a foreigner, and when I had announced I was English, I found it did me no harm; and an old lady, who had by this time joined the party, and seemed the mother, or at least the person in authority over all, told me, in very good French, unmixed with patois, that as there was no inn, I should lodge where I was.

65 Nothing could please me more; so I was willingly ushered into rather a spacious sort of common roomin fact, the kitchen, round which two or three doors led into smaller rooms, where the family slept. One of them, in which there was no despicable bed, was allotted to me; and, meantime, a clean wench, who was the only servant, began to prepare a supper of eggs and legumes for monsieur. But as this would take time (and time allotted to pleasure is always precious in France), the young fifer, who, to do him justice, had as much vivacity and alertness as any of his countrymen, proposed they should take one more dance, with the addition of my flute to his fife, if monsieur would condescend. The smiles of two or three young girls, who showed their white teeth very prettily in seconding the request, would have made me comply at any time; but I hoped for a dance myself, and looked round for the fifer's nymph, with some disappointment at not finding her among them. He had himself gone in quest of her, but returned with a mortified air, mingled too with a little resentment, at her refusal to return, Cette petite chose, Zerlina,' said he, angrily,