Imágenes de páginas

humor. Now I never quarrel with my- Or gather rushes to make many a ring self, and take all my own conclusions for For thy long fingers; tell thee tales of love,

How the pale Phæbe, hunting in a grove, granted till I find it necessary to defend

First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes them against objections. It is not merely She took eternal fire that never dies; that you may not be of accord on the How she convey'd him softly in a sleep, objects and circumstances that present

His temples bound with poppy, to the steep themselves before you—these may recall

Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each

night, a number of objects, and lead to associa

Gilding the mountain with her brother's light, tions too delicate and refined

to be

To kiss her sweetest. possibly communicated to others. Yet these I love to cherish, and sometimes

Had I words and images at command still fondly clutch them, when I can es- like these, I would attempt to wake the cape from the throng to do so. To give thoughts that lie slumbering on golden way to our feelings before company,

ridges in the evening clouds: but at the seems extravagance or affectation; and

sight of nature my fancy, poor as it is, on the other hand, to have to unravel

droops and closes up its leaves, like flowthis mystery of our being at every turn,

ers at sunset. I can make nothing out on and to make others take an equal inter

the spot :-I must have time to collect est in it (otherwise the end is not an

myself. swered) is a task to which few are

In general, a good thing spoils out-ofcompetent. We must "give it an under

door prospects: it should be reserved for standing, but no tongue." My old

Table-talk. 3 is for this reason, friend C-, however, could do both.

I take it, the worst company in the He could go on in the most delightful world out of doors; because he is the explanatory way over hill and dale, a

best within. I grant, there is one subsummer's day, and convert a landscape ject on which it is pleasant to talk on a into a didactic poem or a Pindaric ode.

journey; and that is, what one shall have "He talked far above singing." If I

for supper when we get to our inn at could so clothe my ideas in sounding and

night. The open air improves this sort flowing words, I might perhaps wish to

of conversation or friendly altercation, have some one with me to admire the

by setting a keener edge on appetite. swelling theme; or I could be more con

Every mile of the road heightens the tent, were it possible for me still to hear

flavor of the viands we expect at the his echoing voice in the woods of All

end of it. How fine it is to enter some Foxden. They had that fine madness

old town, walled and turreted just at the in them which our first poets had”; and

approach of night-fall, or to come to if they could have been caught by some

some straggling village, with the lights rare instrument, would have breathed

streaming through the surrounding such strains as the following.

gloom; and then after inquiring for the

best entertainment that the place affords, -Here be woods as green

to "take one's ease at one's inn!” These As any, air likewise as fresh and sweet As when smooth Zephyrus plays on the fleet

eventful moments in our lives' history are Face of the curled stream, with flow'rs as too precious, too full of solid, heart-felt many

happiness to be frittered and dribbled As the young spring gives, and as choice as

away in imperfect sympathy. I would any; Here be all new delights, cool streams and

have them all to myself, and drain them wells,

to the last drop: they will do to talk Arbors o'ergrown with woodbine, caves and of or to write about afterward. What

dells; Choose where thou wilt, while I sit by and sing,

?The Faithful Shepherdess-Fletcher. Coleridge.

3 Lamb.

a delicate speculation it is, after drink- self, uncumber'd with a name.” Oh! it ing whole goblets of tea,

is great to shake off the trammels of the

world and of public opinion—to lose our The cups that cheer, but not inebriate,

importunate, tormenting, everlasting per

sonal identity in the elements of nature, and letting the fumes ascend into the brain, to sit considering what we shall

and become the creature of the moment,

clear of all ties to hold to the universe have for supper-eggs and a rasher, a rabbit smothered in onions, or an excel

only by a dish of sweet-breads, and to lent veal-cutlet! Sancho? in such a situ

owe nothing but the score of the evening ation once fixed upon cow-heel; and his

-and no longer seeking for applause and choice, though he could not help it, is not

meeting with contempt, to be known by to be disparaged. Then in the intervals no other title than the Gentleman in the of pictured scenery and Shandean con

parlor! One may take one's choice of templation, to catch the preparation and

all characters in this romantic state of unthe stir in the kitchen-Procul, O procul

certainty as to one's real pretensions, and

become indefinitely respectable and negaeste profani! These hours are sacred to silence and to musing, to be treasured

tively right-worshipful. We baffle prejuup in the memory, and to feed the source

dice and disappoint conjecture; and from of smiling thoughts hereafter. I would

being so to others, begin to be objects of not waste them in idle talk; or if I must

curiosity and wonder even to ourselves. have the integrity of fancy broken in

We are no more those hackneyed comupon, I would rather it were by a stran

monplaces that we appear in the world:

an inn restores us to the level of nature, ger than a friend. A stranger takes his hue and character from the time and

and quits scores with society! I have place; he is a part of the furniture and

certainly spent some enviable hours at costume of an inn. If he is a Quaker,

inns—sometimes when I have been left or from the West Riding of Yorkshire,

entirely to myself, and have tried to so much the better. I do not even try

solve some metaphysical problem, as once to sympathize with him, and he breaks

at Witham-common, where I found out no squares. I associate nothing with my

the proof that likeness is not a case of the

association of ideas-at other times, when travelling companion but present objects and passing events. In his ignorance of

there have been pictures in the room, as me and my affairs, I in a manner forget

at St. Neot's, (I think it was) where I

first met with Gribelin's engravings of myself. But a friend reminds one of other things, rips up old grievances, and

the Cartoons, into which I entered at destroys the abstraction of the scene. He

once, and at a little inn on the borders of comes in ungraciously between us and

Wales, where there happened to be hangour imaginary character. Something is ing some of Westall's drawings, which I dropped in the course of conversation that

compared triumphantly (for a theory that gives a hint of your profession and pur

I had, not for the admired artist) with suits; or from having some one with you

the figure of a girl who had ferried me that knows the less sublime portions of

over the Severn, standing up in the boat

between me and the twilight-at other your history, it seems that other people do. You are no longer a citizen of the

times I might mention luxuriating in

books, with a peculiar interest in this world: but your “unhoused free condition is put into circumscription and con

way, as I remember sitting up half the fine.” The incognito of an inn is one of

night to read Paul and Virginia, which its striking privileges—“lord of one's

I picked up at an inn at Bridgewater, volumes of Madame D'Arblay's Camilla. I find to share that influx of thoughts, It was on the tenth of April, 1798, that of regret, and delight, the fragments of I sat down to a volume of the New which I could hardly conjure up to myEloise, at the inn at Llangollen, over self, so much have they been broken and a bottle of sherry and a cold chicken. defaced ! I could stand on some tall rock, The letter I chose was that in which St. and overlook the precipice of years that Preux describes his feelings as he first separates me from what I then was. I caught a glimpse from the heights of the was at that time going shortly to visit Jura of the Pays de Vaud, which I had the poet whom I have above named. brought with me as a bon boucheto Where is he now ? Not only I myself crown the evening with. It was my have changed; the world, which was birthday, and I had for the first time then new to me, has become old and income from a place in the neighborhood corrigible. Yet will I turn to thee in to visit this delightful spot. The road to thought, О sylvan Dee, in joy, in youth Llangollen turns off between Chirk and and gladness as thou then wert; and Wrexham; and on passing a certain point, thou shalt always be to me the river of you come all at once upon the valley, Paradise, where I will drink of the which opens like an amphitheatre, broad, waters of life freely! barren hills rising in majestic state on There is hardly any thing that shows either side, with “green upland swells the short-sightedness or capriciousness of that echo to the bleat of Alocks" below, the imagination more

after being drenched in the rain all day; Don Quixote's faithful squire in Cervan- and at the same place I got through two tes's immortal satire. 3"Stand off, stand off, O ye profane!"

3 Religious drawings by Raphael.

the imagination more than travelling and the river Dee babbling over its stony does. With change of place we change bed in the midst of them. The valley at our ideas; nay, our opinions and feelings. this time "glittered green with sunny We can by an effort indeed transport ourshowers," and a budding ash-tree dipped selves to old and long-forgotten scenes, its tender branches in the chiding and then the picture of the mind revives stream. How proud, how glad I was to again; but we forget those that we have walk along the high road that overlooks just left. It seems that we can think but the delicious prospect, repeating the of one place at a time. The canvas of lines which I have just quoted from Mr. the fancy is but of a certain extent, and Coleridge's poems.

But besides the pros- if we paint one set of objects upon it, pect which opened beneath my feet, an- they immediately efface every other. We other also opened to my inward sight, a cannot enlarge our conceptions, we only heavenly vision, on which were written, shift our point of view. The landscape in letters large as Hope could make bares its bosom to the enraptured eye, we them, these four words, LIBERTY, GEN- take our fill of it, and seem as if we could IUS, Love, VIRTUE; which have since form no other image of beauty or granfaded into the light of cominon day, or deur. We pass on, and think no more mock my idle gaze.?

of it: the horizon that shuts it from our

sight, also blots it from our memory like The beautiful is vanished, and returns not.

a dream. In travelling through a wild barren country, I can form no idea of a

woody and cultivated one. It appears Still I would return some time or other

to me that all the world must be barren, to this enchanted spot; but I would re

like what I see of it. In the country we turn to it alone. What other self could

forget the town, and in town we despise ert."1 All that part of the map that we talking about. The sentiment here is do not see before us is a blank. The not tacit, but communicable and overt. world in our conceit of it is not much | Salisbury Plain is barren of criticism, but bigger than a nutshell. It is not one Stonehenge will bear a discussion antiprospect expanded into another, county quarian, picturesque, and philosophical. joined to county, kingdom to kingdom, In setting out on a party of pleasure, the lands to seas, making an image volumin- first consideration always is where we ous and vast;—the mind can form no shall go to: in taking a solitary ramble, larger idea of space than the eye can take the question is what we shall meet with in at a single glance. The rest is a by the way. “The mind is its own name written in a map, a calculation of place”; nor are we anxious to arrive at arithmetic. For instance, what is the the end of our journey. I can myself true significance of that immense mass of do the honors indifferently well to territory and population, known by the works of art and curiosity. I once took name of China, to us? An inch of paste- a party to Oxford with no mean eclatboard on a wooden globe, of no more showed them that seat of the Muses at account than a China orange! Things a distance, near us are seen of the size of life: things at a distance are diminished to the size With glistering spires and pinnacles adorn'dof the understanding. We measure the universe by ourselves, and even compre

the country. "Beyond Hyde Park," 14A dainty."

says Sir Fopling Flutter, "all is a des*Hazlitt, in common with most of the younger generation of writers, while filled 3From the time of this writing (1822) Colewith enthusiasm by the ideals of the French ridge was confined a greater part of the time Revolution, was sadly disillusioned by its to his room, often to his bed, as a result of later excesses.

excessive use of opium.

descanted on the learned air that breathes hend the texture of our own being only from the grassy quadrangles and stone piece-meal. In this way, however, we

walls of halls and colleges-was at home remember an infinity of things and places.

in the Bodleian; and at Blenheim quite The mind is like a mechanical instrument superseded the powdered Ciceronia that that plays a great variety of tunes, but it attended us, and that pointed in vain must play them in succession. One idea

with his wand to common-place beauties recalls another, but it at the same time

in matchless pictures.-As another excepexcludes all others. In trying to renew

tion to the above reasoning, I should not old recollections, we cannot as it were

feel confident in venturing on a journey unfold the whole web of our existence; in a foreign country without a companwe must pick out the single threads. So ion. I should want at intervals to hear in coming to a place where we have the sound of my own language. There formerly lived and with which we have is an involuntary antipathy in the mind intimate associations, every one must have of an Englishman to foreign manners and found that the feeling grows more vivid notions that requires the assistance of sothe nearer we approach the spot, from the cial sympathy to carry it off. As the mere anticipation of the actual impres- distance from home increases, this relief, sion: we remember circumstances, feel which was at first a luxury, becomes a ings, persons, faces, names, that we had passion

passion and

appetite. A person not thought of for years; but for the time would almost feel stifled to find himself all the rest of the world is forgotten in the deserts of Arabia without friends To return to the question I have quitted and countrymen: there must be allowed above.

to be something in the view of Athens or I have no objection to go to see ruins, old Rome that claims the utterance of aqueducts, pictures, in company with a

speech; and I own that the Pyramids are friend or a party, but rather the contrary,

too mighty for any simple contemplation. for the former reason reversed.

In such situations, so opposite to all one's are intelligible matters, and will bear ordinary train of ideas, one seems a spe

1 From Etherege's The Man of Mode; but 2 Italian, applied to guides for their proHazlitt is incorrect in attributing this speech verbial loquacity. Hazlitt evidently errs in to Sir Fopling Flutter.

construing the word as singular.


cies by one's-self, a limb torn off from but a momentary hallucination. It desociety, unless one can meet with instant mands an effort to exchange our actual fellowship and support.—Yet I did not for our ideal identity; and to feel the feel this want or craving very pressing pulse of our old transports revive very once, when I first set my foot on the keenly, we must "jump" all our present laughing shores of France. Calais was comforts and connections. Our romantic peopled with novelty and delight. The and itinerant character is not to be doconfused, busy murmur of the place was mesticated. Dr. Johnson remarked how like oil and wine poured into my ears; little foreign travel added to the facilities nor did the mariners' hymn, which was of conversation in those who had been sung from the top of an old crazy vessel abroad. In fact, the time we have spent in the harbor, as the sun went down, there is both delightful and in one sense send an alien sound into my soul. I only instructive; but it appears to be cut out of breathed the air of general humanity. I our substantial, downright existence, and walked over "the vine-covered hills and never to join kindly on to it. We are not gay regions of France," erect and satis- the same, but another, and perhaps more fied; for the image of man was not cast enviable individual, all the time we are down and chained to the foot of arbitrary out of our own country. We are lost to thrones: I was at no loss for language, ourselves, as well as our friends. So the for that of all the great schools of paint- | poet somewhat quaintly sings, ing was open to me. The whole is vanished like a shade. Pictures, heroes, Out of my country and myself I go. glory, freedom, all are fled: nothing remains but the Bourbons and the French Those who wish to forget painful people!

There is undoubtedly a sensa- thoughts, do well to absent themselves tion in travelling into foreign parts that for a while from the ties and objects that is to be had nowhere else: but it is more recall them: but we can be said only to pleasing at the time than lasting. It is fulfill our destiny in the place that gave too remote from our habitual associations us birth. I should on this account like to be a common topic of discourse or well enough to spend the whole of my reference, and, like a dream or another life in travelling abroad, if I could any state of existence, does not piece into our where borrow another life to spend afterdaily modes of life. It is an animated ward at home!


WASHINGTON IRVING Washington Irving (1783-1859) is the Addison of America. With Franklin he numbers among the earliest literary men of note in this country. Although born in America and a citizen of the United States, he spent much of his time abroad, either in travel or in residence as ambassador. Exploring quaint corners of London, sojourning in rural districts of England, he became thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the English essay. His chief contribution to this field of literature is The Sketch Book, continued in the volume Bracebridge Hall (1822), from which our selection "Traveling" is taken. The character of the old squire is reminiscent of Sir Roger of the De Coverley papers, and throughout the book there is a strong feeling of appreciation for the old and the beautiful, and regret at the passing of the picturesque. A citizen, for recreation sake,

The Squire has lately received anTo see the country would a journey take Some dozen mile, or very little more;

other shock in the saddle, and been almost Taking his leave with friends two months unseated by his marplot neighbor, the in

defatigable Mr. Faddy, who rides his With drinking healths, and shaking by the hand, As he had travail'd to some new-found land.

jog-trot hobby with equal zeal; and is DOCTOR MERRIE-MAN, 1609. so bent upon improving and reforming


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