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do not remember ever to have read any thing-being often caught sobbing over the pathos much more absurd than this-and that the of Richardson, or laughing at the humour of puerility and folly of the classical intrusions Cervantes, with an unrestrained vehemence is even less offensive, than the heap of incon- which reminds us of that of Voltaire. He gruous metaphors by which the meaning is spoke very slow, both in public and private. obscured. Does the learned author really and was remarkably scrupulous in his choice mean to contend, that the metaphors here of words: He slept very little, and, like Johnadd either force or beauty to the sentiment? son, was always averse to retire at nightor that Bacon or Milton ever wrote any thing lingering long after he arose to depart—and, in like this upon such a topic? In his happier his own house, often following one of his guests moments, and more vehement adjurations, to his chamber, and renewing the conversation Mr. C. is often beyond all question a great for an hour. He was habitually abstinent and and commanding orator; and we have no temperate; and, from his youth up, in spite of doubt was, to those who had the happiness all his vivacity, the victim of a constitutional of hearing him, a much greater orator than melancholy. His wit is said to have been ready the mere readers of his speeches have any and brilliant, and altogether without gai means of conceiving:-But we really cannot But the credit of this testimony is somewha: help repeating our protest against a style of weakened by a little selection of his bons composition which could betray its great mas- mots, with which we are furnished in a note. ter, and that very frequently, into such pas- The greater part, we own, appear to us to be sages as those we have just extracted. The rather vulgar and ordinary; as, when a man mischief is not to the master-whose genius of the name of Halfpenny was desired by the could efface all such stains, and whose splen- Judge to sit down, Mr. C. said, “I thank your did successes would sink his failures in obli- Lordship for having at last nailed that rap to vion-but to the pupils, and to the public, the counter;" or, when observing upon the whose taste that very genius is thus instru- singular pace of a Judge who was lame, be mental in corrupting. If young lawyers are said, "Don't you see that one leg goes before. taught to consider this as the style which like a tipstaff, to make room for the other?" should be aimed at and encouraged, to ren--or, when vindicating his countrymen from der Judges benevolent,-by comparing them the charge of being naturally vicious, he said, to "the sweet-souled Cimon," and the "gal- "He had never yet heard of an Irishman being lant Epaminondas;" or to talk about their born drunk." The following, however, is own young and slender tapers," and "the good-"I can't tell you, Curran,' "observed clouds and the morning sun,"-with what an Irish nobleman, who had voted for the precious stuff will the Courts and the country Union, "how frightful our old House of Combe infested! It is not difficult to imitate the mons appears "; to me. "Ah! my Lord," redefects of such a style-and of all defects plied the other, "it is only natural for Marthey are the most nauseous in imitation. derers to be afraid of Ghosts;”—and this is Even in the hands of men of genius, the risk at least grotesque. "Being asked what an is, that the longer such a style is cultivated, Irish gentleman, just arrived in England, could the more extravagant it will grow,-just as mean by perpetually putting out his torgue! those who deal in other means of intoxica- Answer I suppose he's trying to catch the tion, are tempted to strengthen the mixture English accent." In his last illness, his phys as they proceed. The learned and candid cian observing in the morning that he seemed author before us, testifies this to have been to cough with more difficulty, he answered. the progress of Mr. C. himself-and it is still "that is rather surprising, as I have been more strikingly illustrated by the history of his practising all night." models and imitators. Mr. Burke had much less of this extravagance than Mr. GrattanMr. Grattan much less than Mr. Curran-and Mr. Curran much less than Mr. Phillips.-It is really of some importance that the climax should be closed, somewhere.
But these things are of little consequence. Mr. Curran was something much better than a sayer of smart sayings. He was a lover of his country-and its fearless, its devoted, and indefatigable servant. To his energy and talents she was perhaps indebted for some mitigation of her sufferings in the days of her extremity-and to these, at all events, the public has been indebted, in a great degree, for the knowledge they now have of her wrongs; and for the feeling which that knowledge has excited, of the necessity of granting them redress. It is in this character that he must have most wished to be remembered, and in which he has most deserved it.
There is a concluding chapter, in which Mr. C.'s skill in cross-examination, and his conversational brilliancy, are commemorated; as well as the general simplicity and affability of his manners, and his personal habits and peculiarities. He was not a profound lawyer, nor much of a general scholar, though reasonably well acquainted with all the branches of polite literature, and an eager reader of novels
Switzerland, or a Journal of a Tour and Residence in that Country in the Years 1817, 1818, and 1819. Followed by an Historical Sketch of the Manners and Customs of Ancient and Modern Helvetia, in which the Events of our own time are fully detailed; together with the Causes to which they may be referred. By L. SIMOND, Author of Journal of a Tour and Residence in Great Britain during the Years 1810 and 1811. In 2 vols. 8vo. London: 1822.*
M. SIMOND is already well known in this accordingly, in all his moral and political obcountry as the author of one of the best ac-servations at least, a constant alternation of counts of it that has ever been given to the romantic philanthropy and bitter sarcasm-of world, either by native or foreigner-the full- the most captivating views of apparent hapest certainly, and the most unprejudiced piness and virtue, and the most relentless disand containing the most faithful descriptions closures of actual guilt and misery-of the both of the aspect of our country, and the pe- sweetest and most plausible illusions, and the culiarities of our manners and character, that most withering and chilling truths. He exhas yet come under our observation. There patiates, for example, through many pages, are some mistakes, and some rash judgments; on the heroic valour and devoted patriotism but nothing can exceed the candour of the of the old Helvetic worthies, with the memoestimate, or the fairness and independence of rials of which the face of their country is spirit with which it is made; while the whole covered-and then proceeds to dissect their is pervaded by a vein of original thought, character and manners with the most cruel always sagacious, and not unfrequently pro- particularity, and makes them out to have found. The main fault of that book, as a been most barbarous, venal, and unjust. In work of permanent interest and instruction, the same way, he bewitches his readers with which it might otherwise have been, is the seducing pictures of the peace, simplicity, intoo great space which is alloted to the tran- dependence, and honesty of the mountain sient occurrences and discussions of the time villagers; and by and by takes occasion to to which it refers-most of which have already tell us, that they are not only more stupid, lost their interest, and not only read like old but more corrupt than the inhabitants of cities. news and stale politics, but have extended He eulogises the solid learning and domestic their own atmosphere of repulsion to many habits that prevail at Zurich and Geneva; and admirable remarks and valuable suggestions, then makes it known to us that they are inof which they happen to be the vehicles. fested with faction and ennui. He draws a delightful picture of the white cottages and smiling pastures in which the cheerful peasants of the Engadine have their romantic habitations and then casts us down from our elevation without the least pity, by informing us, that the best of them are those who have returned from hawking stucco parrots, sixpenny looking-glasses, and coloured sweetmeats through all the towns of Europe. He is always strong for liberty, and indignant at oppression-but cannot settle very well in what liberty consists; and seems to suspect, at last, that political rights are oftener a source of disorder than of comfort; and that if person and property are tolerably secure, it is mere quixotism to look further.
The work before us is marked by the same excellences, and is nearly free from the faults to which we have just alluded. In spite of this, however-perhaps even in consequence of it-we suspect it will not generally be thought so entertaining; the scene being necessarily so much narrower, and the persons of the drama fewer and less diversified. The work, however, is full of admirable description and original remark:-nor do we know any book of travels, ancient or modern, which contains, in the same compass, so many graphic and animated delineations of external objects, or so many just and vigorous observations on the moral phenomena it records. The most remarkable thing about it, however -and it occurs equally in the author's former publication-is the singular combination of enthusiasm and austerity that appears both in the descriptive, and the reasoning or ethical parts of the performance-the perpetual struggle that seems to exist between the feelings and fancy of the author, and the sterner intimations of his understanding. There is,
I reprint a part of this paper:-partly out of love to the memory of the author, who was my connection and particular friend:-but chiefly for the sake of his remarks on our English manners, and my judgment on these remarks--which I would venture to submit to the sensitive patriots of America, as a specimen of the temperance with which the triots of other countries can deal with the censors of their national habits and pretensions to fine breeding.
So strong a contrast of warm feelings and cold reasonings, such animating and such despairing views of the nature and destiny of mankind, are not often to be found in the same mind-and still less frequently in the same book: And yet they amount but to an extreme case, or strong example, of the inconsistencies through which all men of generous tempers and vigorous understandings are perpetually passing, as the one or the other part of their constitution assumes the ascendant. There are many of our good feelings, we suspect, and some even of our good principles, that rest upon a sort of illusion; or cannot submit at least to be questioned by frigid reason, without being for the time a good deal discountenanced and impaired-and this we take
to be very clearly the case with M. Simond. | of destruction-a savage enemy, speaking an un His temperament is plainly enthusiastic, and known language, with whom no compromise could his fancy powerful: But his reason is active and exacting, and his love of truth paramount to all other considerations. His natural sympathies are with all fine and all lofty qualities —but it is his honest conviction, that happiness is most securely built of more vulgar "Soon after passing the frontiers of the twj materials-and that there is even something countries, the view, heretofore bounded by near onridiculous in investing our humble human na-jects, woods and pastures, rocks and snows, opened ture with these magnificent attributes. At all at once upon the Canton de Vaud, and upon bali all events it is impossible to doubt of his sin- Switzerland! a vast extent of undulating country, cerity in both parts of the representation;-lakes; villages and towns, with their antique tow. tufted woods and fields, and silvery streams and for there is not the least appearance of a love ers, and their church-steeples shining in the sun. of paradox, or a desire to produce effect; and nothing can be so striking as the air of candour and impartiality that prevails through the whole work. If any traces of prejudice may still be detected, they have manifestly sur-yond this vast extent of country, its villages and vived the most strenuous efforts to efface towns, woods, lakes, and mountains; beyond all them. The strongest, we think, are against terrestrial objects-beyond the horizon itself, rose a French character and English manners-with long range of aërial forms, of the softest pale pink some, perhaps, against the French Revolution, hue: These were the high Alps, the rampart of and its late Imperial consummator. He is of the Overland, and even further. Their angle Italy-from Mont Blanc in Savoy, to the glaciers very prone to admire Nature-but not easily of elevation seen from this distance is very smali satisfied with Man;-and, though most in- indeed. Faithfully represented in a drawing, the tolerant of intolerance, and most indulgent to effect would be insignificant; but the aerial perthose defects of which adventitious advantages spective amply restored the proportions lost in the make men most impatient, he is evidently of mathematical perspective. opinion that scarcely any thing is exactly as immutability, and duration without bounds; but it
The lake of Neuchâtel, far below on the left. and those of Morat and of Vienne, like mirrors set in deep frames, contrasted by the tranquility of grounds and ridges of the various landscape. Betheir lucid surfaces, with the dark shades and brokes
"The human mind thirsts after immensity and
and that little more can be said for most existing habits and institutions, than that they have been, and might have been, still
it should be in the present state of society-needs some tangible object from which to take its flight,-something present to lead to futurity, something bounded from whence to rise to the infinite. This vault of the heavens over our head, sinking all terrestrial objects into absolute nothingness, pansion in the mind: But mere space is not a permight seem best fitted to awaken this sense of exceptible object to which we can readily apply a scale, while the Alps, seen at a glance between heaven and earth-met as it were on the confines of the regions of fancy and of sober reality, are there like written characters, traced by a divine hand, and suggesting thoughts such as human lan
guage never reached.
He sets out for the most picturesque country of Europe, from that which is certainly the least so and gives the first indications of his sensitiveness on these topics, by a passing critique on the ancient châteaus of France, and their former inhabitants. We may as well introduce him to our readers with this passage as with any other.
"A few comfortable residences, scattered about the country, have lately put us in mind how very rare they are in general: Instead of them, you meet, not unfrequently, some ten or twenty miserable hovels, crowded together round what was formerly the stronghold of the lord of the manor; a narrow, dark, prison-like building, with small grated windows, embattled walls, and turrets peeping over thatched roofs. The lonely cluster seems unconnected with the rest of the country, and may be said to represent the feudal system, as plants in a hortus siccus do the vegetable. Long before the Revolution, these châteaux had been mostly forsaken by their seigneurs, for the nearest country town; where Monsieur le Compte, or Monsieur le Marquis, decorated with the cross of St. Louis, made shift to live on his paltry seigniorial dues, and rents ill paid by a starving peasantry; spending his time in reminis cences of gallantry with the old dowagers of the place, who rouged and wore patches, dressed in hoops and high-heeled shoes, full four inches, and long pointed elbow-ruffles, balanced with lead. Not one individual of this good company knew any thing of what was passing in the world, or suspected that any change had taken place since the days of Louis XIV. No book found its way there; no one read, not even a newspaper. When the Revolution burst upon this inferior nobility of the provinces, it appeared to them like Attila and the Huns to the people of the fifth century-the Scourge of God, coming nobody knew whence, for the mere purpose
The first view of the country, though no longer new to most readers, is given with a truth, and a freshness of feeling which we are tempted to preserve in an extract.
Coming down the Jura, a long descent brought varied country with hills and dales, divided into neat us to what appeared a plain, but which proved a enclosures of hawthorn in full bloom, and large hedge-row trees, mostly walnut, oak, and ash. It had altogether very much the appearance of the most beautiful parts of England, although the eaclosures were on a smaller scale, and the cottages less neat and ornamented. They differed entirely from France, where the dwellings are always collected in villages, the fields all open, and without trees. Numerous streams of the clearest water crossed the road, and watered very fine meadows. The houses, built of stone, low, broad, and massy, either thatched or covered with heavy wooden shingles, and shaded with magnificent walnut trees, might all have furnished studies to an artist." Vol. pp. 25-27. The following, however, is more characteristic of the author's vigorous and familiar, but somewhat quaint and abrupt, style of description.
"Leaving our equipages at Ballaigne, we proceeded to the falls of the Orbe, through a hanging wood of fine old oaks, and came, after a long descent, to a place where the Orbe breaks through a great mass of ruins, which, at some very remote period, have fallen from the mountain, and entirely obstructed its channel. All the earth, and all the smaller fragments, having long since disappeared: and the water now works its way, with great noise
"It rained all day yesterday, and we remained shut up in our room at a German inn in Waldshut, enjoying a day's rest with our books, and observing men and manners in Germany, through the small round panes of our casements. The projecting roofs of houses afford so much shelter on both sides of the streets, that the beau sex of Waldshut were out all day long in their Sunday clothes, as if it had been fine weather; their long yellow hair in a single plait hung down to their heels, along a back made very strait by the habit of carrying pails of milk and water on the head; their snow-white shiftsleeves, rolled up to the shoulder, exposed to view a sinewy, sun-burnt arm; the dark red stays were laced with black in front, and a petticoat scarcely longer than the Scotch kilt, hid nothing of the lower limb, nor of a perfectly neat stocking, well stretched by red garters full in sight. The aged among them, generally frightful, looked like withered little old men in disguise."-Vol. i pp. 87, 88.
and fury, among the larger fragments, and falls above the height of eighty feet, in the very best style. The blocks, many of them as large as a good-sized three-story house, are heaped up most strangely, jammed in by their angles-in equilibrium on a point, or forming perilous bridges, over which you may, with proper precaution, pick your way to the other side. The quarry from which the materials of the bridge came is just above your head, and the miners are still at work-air, water, frost, weight, and time! The strata of limestone are evidently breaking down; their deep rents are widening, and enormous masses, already loosened from the mountain, and suspended on their precarious bases, seem only waiting for the last effort of the great lever of nature to take the horrid leap, and bury under some hundred feet of new chaotic ruins, the trees, the verdant lawn-and yourself, who are looking on and foretelling the catastrophe! We left this scene at last reluctantly, and proceeded towards the dent-de-vaulion, at the base of which we arrived in two hours, and in two hours more reached the summit, which is four thousand four hundred and seventy-six feet above the sea, and three thousand three hundred and forty-two feet above the lake of Geneva. Our path lay over smooth turf, sufficiently steep to make it difficult to climb. At the top we found a narrow ridge, not more than one hundred yards wide. The south view, a most magnificent one, was unfortunately too like that at our entrance into Switzerland to
bear a second description; the other side of the ridge can scarcely be approached without terror, being almost perpendicular. Crawling, therefore, on our hands and knees, we ventured, in this modest attitude, to look out of the window at the hundred and fiftieth story (at least two thousand feet), and see what was doing in the street. Herds of cattle in the infiniment petit were grazing on the verdant lawn of a narrow vale; on the other side of which, a mountain, overgrown with dark pines, marked the boundary of France. Towards the west, we saw a piece of water, which appeared like a mere fishpond. It was the lake of Joux, two leagues in length, and half a league in breadth. We were to look for our night's lodgings in the village on its banks."-Vol. i. pp. 33-36.
"These fine woods extend almost to the very gates of Berne, where you arrive under an avenue There are seats by the side of the road, for the conof limes, which, in this season, perfume the air. venience of foot-passengers, especially women going to market, with a shelf above, at the height of a person standing, for the purpose of receiving their baskets while they rest themselves on the bench: you meet also with fountains at regular distances. The whole country has the appearance of English pleasure-grounds. The town itself stands on the elevated banks of a rapid river, the Aar, to which the Rhine is indebted for one half of its waters. sudden bend of the stream encloses, on all sides but one, the promontory on which the town is built; the magnificent slope is in some places covered with turf, supported in others by lofty terraces planted with trees, and commanding wonderful views over the surrounding rich country, and the high Alps beyond it.
"Bienne struck us as more Swiss than any thing we had yet seen, or rather as if we were entering Switzerland for the first time; every thing looked and sounded so foreign: And yet to see the curiosity we excited the moment we landed and entered the streets, we might have supposed it was ourselves who looked rather outlandish. The women wore their hair plaited down to their heels, while the full petticoat did not descend near so far. Several groups of them, sitting at their doors, sung in parts, with an accuracy of ear and taste innate among the Germans. Gateways fortified with towers intersect the streets, which are composed of strangelooking houses built on arcades, like those of bridges, and variously painted, blue with yellow borders, red with white, or purple and grey; projecting iron balconies, highly worked and of glossy black, with bright green window frames. The luxury of fountains and of running water is still greater here than at Neuchâtel; and you might be tempted to quench your thirst in the kennel, it runs so clear and pure. Morning and evening, goats, in immense droves, conducted to or from the mountain, traverse the streets, and stop of them selves, each at its own door. In the interior of the houses, most articles of furniture are quaintly shaped and ornamented; old-looking, but rubbed bright, and in good preservation; from the nut-cracker, curiously carved, to the double-necked cruet, pourtains, and noble shades, you see none but simple ing oil and vinegar out of the same bottle. The and solid dwellings, yet scarcely any beggarly accommodations at the inn are homely, but not unones; not an equipage to be seen, but many a comfortable; substantially good, though not ele- country wagon, coming to market, with a capital team of horses, or oxen, well appointed every way. gant." Vol. i. pp. 65, 66. Aristocratic pride is said to be excessive at Berne; and the antique simplicity of its magistrates, the plain and easy manners they uniformly pre
It is not an easy matter to account for the first impression you receive upon entering Berne. You certainly feel that you have got to an ancient and a great city: Yet, before the eleventh century, it had not a name, and its present population does not exceed twelve thousand souls. It is a republic; yet it looks kingly. Something of Roman majesty appears in its lofty terraces; in those massy arches on each side of the streets; in the abundance of water flowing night and day into gigantic basins; in the magnificent avenues of trees. The very silence, and absence of bustle, a certain stateliness showing it to be not a money-making town, implies and reserved demeanour in the inhabitants, by that its wealth springs from more solid and per
manent sources than trade can afford, and that
another spirit animates its inhabitants. In short, of all the first-sight impressions and guesses about Berne, that of its being a Roman town would be nearer right than any other. Circumstances, in some respects similar, have produced like results in the Alps, and on the plains of Latium, at the interval of twenty centuries. Luxury at Berne seems wholly directed to objects of public utility. By the side of those gigantic terraces, of those fine foun
We may add the following, which is in the same style.
Of all the Swiss cities, he seems to have been most struck with Berne; and the impression made by its majestic exterior, has even made him a little too partial, we think, to its aristocratic constitution. His description of its appearance is given with equal spirit and precision.
serve in their intercourse with the people, are not |
But we must now hasten from the Physical wonders of this country to some of the author's Moral observations; and we are tempted to give the first place to his unsparing but dispassionate remarks on the character of modern English travellers. At Geneva, he observes,
In short, the friends of Geneva, among our modera English travellers, are not numerous-though they are select. These last distinguished themselves during the late hard winter by their bounty to the poor-not the poor of Geneva, who were sufficiently assisted by their richer countrymen, but those of Savoy, who were literally starving. If English travellers no longer appear in the same light as formerly, it is because it is not the same class of peo ple who go abroad, but all classes, and not the best of all classes, either. They know this too, and say mous numbers, and of the absurd conduct of many it themselves; they feel the ridicule of their enor of them. They are ashamed and provoked; describe it with the most pointed irony, and tell many a ha morous story against themselves. Formerly, the travelling class was composed of young men of after leaving the University, went the tour of the good family and fortune, just coming of age, who, Continent under the guidance of a learned tutor, often a very distinguished man, or of men of the same class, at a more advanced age, with their families, who, after many years spent in professional duties at home, came to visit again the countries they had seen in their youth, and the friends they had known there. In those better times, when no Englishman left his country either to seek his fortune, to save money, or to hide himself; when travellers of that nation were all very rich or very learned; of high birth, yet liberal principles; unbounded in their generosity, and with means equal to the inclination, their high standing in the world might well be accounted for; and it is a great pity they should have lost it. Were I an Englishman, I would not set out on my travels until the new fashion were over."-Vol. i. pp. 356-359.
At Schaffhausen, again, he observes,
"English travellers swarm here, as everywhere else; but they do not mix with the society of the country more than they do elsewhere, and seem to like it even less. The people of Geneva, on the other hand, say, 'Their former friends, the English, are so changed they scarcely know them again. They used to be a plain downright race, in whom a certain degree of sauvagerie (oddity and shyness) only served to set off the advantages of a highly cultivated understanding, of a liberal mind, and generous temper, which characterised them in general. Their young men were often rather wild, but soon reformed, and became like their fathers. Instead of this, we now see (they say) a mixed assemblage, of whom lamentably few possess any of those qualities we were wont to admire in their predeces. sors. Their former shyness and reserve is changed to disdain and rudeness. If you seek these modern English, they keep aloof, do not mix in conversation, and seem to laugh at you. Their conduct, "There were other admirers here besides ourstill more strange and unaccountable in regard to selves; some English, and more Germans, who each other, is indicative of contempt or suspicion. furnished us with an opportunity of comparing the Studiously avoiding to exchange a word with their difference of national manners. The former, divided countrymen, one would suppose they expected to into groups, carefully avoiding any communication find a sharper in every individual of their own nawith each other still more than with the foreigners, tion, not particularly introduced,-or at best a per- never exchanged a word, and scarcely a look, with son beneath them. Accordingly you cannot vex or any but the legitimate interlocutors of their own set; displease them more than by inviting other English women adhering more particularly to the rule-from travellers to meet them, whom they may be com- native reserve and timidity, full as much as from pelled afterwards to acknowledge. If they do not pride or from extreme good breeding. Some of the find a crowd, they are tired. If you speak of the ladies here might be Scotch; at least they wore the old English you formerly knew, that was before the national colours, and we overheard them drawing Flood! If you talk of books, it is pedantry, and comparisons between what we had under our eyes they yawn; of politics, they run wild about Bona- and Coralyn; giving justly enough, the preference parte! Dancing is the only thing which is sure to to the Clyde; but, at any rate, they behaved à please them. At the sound of the fiddle, the think-l'Anglaise. The German ladies, on the contrary, ing nation starts up at once. Their young people contrived to lier conversation in indifferent French. are adepts in the art; and take pains to become so, With genuine simplicity, wholly unconscious of forspending half their time with the dancing master. wardness, although it might undoubtedly have been You may know the houses where they live by the so qualified in England, they begged of my friend scraping of the fiddle, and shaking of the floor, to let them hear a few words in English, just to which disturbs their neighbours. Few bring letters; know the sound, to which they were strangers. If and yet they complain they are neglected by the we are to judge of the respective merits of these good company, and cheated by innkeepers. The opposite manners, by the impression they leave. I latter, accustomed to the Milords Anglais of former think the question is already decided by the English times, or at least having heard of them, think they against themselves. Yet, at the same time that they may charge accordingly; but only find des Anglais blame and deride their own proud reserve, and pour rire, who bargain at the door, before they ven- would depart from it if they well knew how, but a ture to come in, for the leg of mutton and bottle of few have the courage to venture:-and I really bewine, on which they mean to dine!' lieve they are the best bred, who thus allow themselves to be good-humoured and vulgar." Vol. i. pp. 94, 95. We have not much to say in defence of our countrymen-but what may be said truly, ought not to be suppressed. That our travellers are now generally of a lower rank than formerly, and that not very many of them are fitted, either by their wealth or breeding, to uphold the character of the noble and honontable persons who once almost monopolised the advantages of foreign travel, is of course
"Placed as I am between the two parties. I hear young Englishmen repeat, what they have heard in France, that the Genevans are cold, selfish, and interested, and their women des précieuses ridicules, the very milliners and mantua-makers giving themselves airs of modesty and deep reading! that there is no opera, nor théâtre des variétés; in short, that Geneva is the dullest place in the world. Some say it is but a bad copy of England, a sham republic; and a scientific, no less than a political, counterfeit.
Many travelling details, and particular descriptions, are here omitted.