endeavour to gather carefully, and hope I shall so far succeed as to leave a comfort. To his mother, young Smith writes thus: "JAMES SMITH." "My happiness, honoured madam, in my present situation, is completed by your expressing so much happiness in my prospects, as well as my father. I cannot help considering it, as you say, peculiarly directed by the Almighty, and therefore I recur immediately to him when any gloomy ideas present themselves; as I hope I have the most perfect confidence in Him, and trust He will preserve us all to be a blessing to each other. But if He thinks fit to separate us, I hope we could acquiesce; and we know that not a single kind thought can ever be lost, or lose its reward. I have met with a number of young playfellows, as you said I should. The children of Dr. Duncan are very pretty, and remarkably sensible; and here are a sweet little boy and girl, the children of Dr. Adam, whom I often play with. Mrs. Adam is a very beautiful polite woman, and the children in perfect order; the little lass told her mamma I was 'a bonny man.' Ay,' says her brother, and a good man too!'" In April 1782, Mr. Smith tells his father that he, in connexion with some fellow-students, had formed a society for Natural History; and thus incidentally he notices Dr. Hutton. "It is accidental my not having mentioned Dr. Hutton; who is one of my best and most agreeable acquaintances, a man of the most astonishing penetration and remarkable clearness of intellects, with the greatest good humour and frankness; in short, I cannot discover in what his oddity (of which I heard so much) consists. He is a bachelor, and lives with three maiden sisters; so you may be sure the house and every thing about it is in the nicest order. I step in when I like, and drink tea with them; and the Doctor and I sometimes walk together. He is an excellent mineralogist, and is very communicative, very clear, and of a candid, though quick temper; in short, I am quite charmed with him. He has a noble collection of fos sils, which he likes to show-by the way, I do not mean to prosecute this study any further than is necessary and proper for me to be acquainted with; it requires infinite attention and labour, and there are few certain conclusions to be found. I shall endeavour to get a general knowledge of every branch of literature as it falls in my way; but believe I shall find enough to employ me in the strict line of my profession, with the two first kingdoms of nature by way of relaxation; for I am fully persuaded that an intimate acquaintance with these is not only peculiarly ornamental, but highly necessary, to form an accomplished physician, as literature now stands; and am sure the benefit I have derived, wherever I have been, and am continually deriving, from the little knowledge of this kind which I am possessed of, is greater than could have been imagined,—I mean with respect to introducing me to the literary world; for if I had been without such an introduction, I might have drudged here perhaps a couple of years before I could have done anything to have signalized myself, or have been taken half the notice of which I now am. "I promised to give you some account of my young acquaintances. The name of the one I have contracted most intimacy with is Batty; he comes from Kirby Lonsdale, in Westmoreland." Mr. Smith's correspondence with this young friend, who left College before him, shews all the kindly glow of a young and a good heart. He grudges that he cannot have his friend to share his pleasures-the lectures to wit, and speaks quite touchingly of running down Robertson's close, to see the gloomy lodging where his friend had resided, and which he had often visited with a cheerful step, when it contained Batty. These young letters should serve the memory of Sir James more than his presidentship, and patent of knighthood; and when we are told that these pure affections, and this glow of feeling continued with him to the last, and, "that this unsuspicious simplicity was never obliterated," we are disposed to give him our hearts as well as our admiration. In the summer of 1782, he made a pedestrian tour to the Highlands, with some young students and Dr. Hope's son, the Doctor having recommended and advised the journey. The Doctor now frugally calculated the expenses of the youths, if out for a month, at L.3 a-head-we like to be thus minute-but Smith, reckoned upon spending L.5 or L.6. This Highland tour forms an agreeable subject for a long letter home. Smith was charmed with the city of Glasgow, with the Clyde, and Loch Lomond; and describes the Highland scenery very prettily. Sage and steady as Mr. Smith was, he was touched with the spirit of the time. In the winter of 1782-3, he attended the lectures of Browne. There is both sense and nonsense in the following extract:He is writing to his father "I really believe medicine, if it deserves the name of science at all, in its present state, is in the most barbarous condition of any science, and only now emerging from the greatest darkness and absurdity. It is commonly declared, by all practitioners, that theory is nonsense, and that experience, that is empiricism, is everything. Cullen's theory is visibly going into the same state of contempt as Boerhaave's has been reduced to, and his lectures are by no means consistent with it, though admirable as mere practical lectures. These considerations and some other have induced me to attend Browne this winter; and I am happy in having done it, for his system and view of the human economy are certainly the most philosophic of any, and are gaining ground in a wonderful manner: perhaps, however, he may have only his day. He has many of the most respectable pupils, and behaves very well to us." As president of the Natural History Society, to which the Earl of Buchan had been admitted as an honorary member, Mr. Smith received a very characteristic letter from that nobleman, ending thus grandly: "I entreat of you, sir, to convey to your brethren the thanks of a member of the great Republic of Letters, who, at no advanced age, begins to grow old in the service of that community which seems to have adopted him more heartily than the other." This was the community of science and letters, of course-that other, the Scottish Peerage which had just refused to elect his lordship one of their sixteen representatives. One or two other delightful preparatory letters are exchanged between the affectionate father and grateful son, who, after a residence of two years, left Edinburgh for his home, first visiting his friend Batty. Lady Smith indulges in a retrospect at this first pause or stage in her husband's opening career of worth and eminence, which strikes us as being very beautiful in feeling and in diction. But as his own letters are her favourite mode of delineating his character, we adhere to them. After remaining for the summer months with his proud and affectionate parents, Mr. Smith repaired to London, to prosecute his medical studies under the Hunters and Dr. Pitcairn. He lodged in the same apartments with his friend and fellow-student Batty, and tells his father, that Mr. Baillie, (the late Sir Matthew,)" is very civil to us; but we are charmed with John Hunter; he alone is worth coming to live in London for." As in Edinburgh, Sir James here gained the friendship of his medical teachers, though Natural History seems to have engaged, even then, much more of his affections than medicine. He frequented the house of Sir Joseph Banks; and hearing that the son of Linnæus having recently died, his father's collection and library were to be disposed of, he anxiously applied to his generous parent to make the purchase for him, which was to be the foundation of fame and fortune. The price was fixed at 1000 guineas. Sorry we are that we cannot transcribe the whole 3 aheading Leb letter Clyde, gl of the sensible and affectionate letter of the kind but thoughtful father to this eager appeal of his enthusiastic son. "Had I but you," he says, "I had not hesitated one moment; every shilling of mine should be at your devotion, to serve any good purpose, and your dear mother would be as contented as I could be to live upon the moderate income of our real estate, till it pleased Providence to withdraw us from the world."The young man ultimately succeeded; and the purchase, which proved in every way advantageous, was happily completed. The history of it is somewhat prolix; but this was an important era in the life of her husband, and Lady Smith naturally lingers on a transaction which so powerfully influenced his future life. He hired apartments in Paradise Row, Chelsea, where he deposited his magnificent acquisition, and was assisted by Sir Joseph Banks and Dr. Dryander in arranging it. From this date, it may be said that Sir James gave himself up to Botany, and began to compose his Botanical works; but he also went to Leyden, instead of Edinburgh, to continue his general studies. From this place, besides writing to his parents, he corresponded with several newly acquired friends, lovers of Natural History; and among others, Dr. Goodenough, afterwards Bishop of Carlisle, with whom a friendship, cemented by their common attachment to botany and natural science, continued unabated till death divided them. In, the Bishop's correspondence we find nothing of much interest; and, for our own parts, could easily have spared full three-fourths of the letters. The Doctor's humility, after attaining episcopal honours, and the pains he takes to set his friend at ease, by assuring him that these dignities have not inordinately puffed him up, nor impaired their ancient friendship, are amusing. These epistles answer another purpose. They shew what an easy, comfortable office is that of a Bishop of the 19th century. The mitre gave Dr. Goodenough, who certainly was a respectable, and even liberal dig.. nitary, more leisure to watch plants and collect insects. Of the fatigues of legislation he complains immoderately, of late hours, and of being pent up in the smoke of London, during the sitting of Parliament. Some persons will think it advisable to relieve the bishops from such incongruous toils and fatiguing duties. Sir James, after leaving Leyden, made a long tour on the Continent, an account of which he published on his return, under the title of "Sketch of a Tour on the Continent." He had previously published a "Dissertation on the Sexes of Plants," and "Reflections on the Studies of Nature." His picture, sent to his father, of the Court of Versailles, in 1786, is not very remarkable in any way. He does not seem to have viewed anything there en beau. The King, he saw; the Queen was in bed. The daubing of the ladies' cheeks, in the most refined court of the world, he describes as a European traveller might the ornaments and personal decorations of the beauties of an African or Otaheitean royal circle. But comparison would be a libel on the natural good taste of the islanders. "Nature," he says, "is quite out of the question." So indeed it was in many things there besides cheek-daubing. "Old hags,” (thus the young Englishman speaks of the élite of the Court, and of the Fauxbourg St. Germain,)" old hags, ugly beyond what you can conceive, for we have a very inadequate idea of what an ugly woman is in England, are dressed like girls in the most tawdry colours, and have on each cheek a broad daub of the highest pink crayon, or something like it. The King is a pretty good person; rather fat, his countenance agreeable. He had some prodigiously fine diamonds. In a little shabby * * apartment in the Benedictines Anglois, lies poor James II., under a rusty black pall and tattered escutcheon, waiting to be carried back to England! So very deplorable a spectacle softened my contempt into pity." The most agreeable of Sir James's Continental letters is one in which the traveller gives a lady an account of his visit to the tomb of Rousseau. It will be read with great interest even now. It places the character of Rousseau in a fairer, and, we have no doubt, a truer light, than most contemporary accounts of his latter years and days, and disproves the story of his suicide, so zealously spread by the enemies of this extraordinary and misrepresented man. Sir James first visited Chantilly, and thence, he says, he and his companion had a romantic ride of eight miles, through the forest, to Ermenonville. "We arrived about dusk, and put up at a little inn, where the present Emperor, and the King of Sweden had been accommodated before us. The landlord knew Rousseau, and spoke of him with the greatest esteem. The day of his death this man saw him about seven o'clock botanizing; he complained of having had a sleepless night, from the headach. Before ten he was dead. Water was found collected in his head. Our landlord preserves his snuff-box, and the shoes in which he died; they have wooden soles and straw tops. One of his admirers has written something on the box; and another has written on the shoes, that he was proud to inscribe his name sur la simple chaussure d'un homme qui ne marchoit jamais que dans le sentier de la vertu." "The next morning being very fine, we rose at six, and had a most enchanting ramble through the gardens of Monsieur le Marquis de Girardin, which form a striking contrast with those of Chantilly, being laid out in the most romantic style, what the French call à l'Angloise. They consist of about eight hundred acres, a great part of which are wild woods, and rocky hills and dales, as wild as the highlands of Scotland. We first passed a beautiful cascade, and went along a winding path through a wood by the side of the lake, from time to time meeting with inscriptions disposed with great judgment. We took a boat to go to the Island of Poplars, honoured with the ashes of Rousseau. His tomb is elegantly simple, of white stone; on one side is a piece of sculpture representing a mother of a family reading Emilius, with other emblems; the other is inscribed L'homme de la Nature et de la Vérité.' He desired to be buried in the garden, and the Marquis chose this spot. I shall not attempt to describe to you what I felt on seeing and touching this tomb. I brought away some moss from its top for you. "In another Island near it is a lesser monument, over a German who taught the Marquis's children drawing; and being a Protestant, could not be buried in consecrated ground. Hence we passed by some inscriptions in honour of Virgil, Thomson, Shenstone, and some others, to the Temple of Modern Philosophy, an unfinished building; on each of the pillars already erected is inscribed the name of some great man, with a word expressive of what he excelled in: thus to Voltaire is given, ridicule; to Rousseau, nature; to Priestly, air; to Franklin, thunder, &c. &c. On an unfinished column is written in Latin, Who will complete this?' This tem ple overlooks the lake; near it is an hermitage embosomed in a wood. From this spot we went to some simple wooden buildings, where every Sunday the Marquis and his lady amuse themselves with having the neighbouring peasants dance, &c., on the plan described in the Nouvelle Heloise. The woods around them are very fine; and after passing through them we came to a solitary elm-tree, on which the Marquis has written, Le voici cet orme heureux où ma Louise a reçu ma foi. From hence is an immense prospect, finely varied with fields, woods, and water. the hill among heath and juniper, we came to two charming Italian inscriptions by the Marquis, which lead to a rock on which Rousseau has engraven, with his own knife, Julie.' I have some moss for you from this very rock. Ascending another hill we came to the House of Rousseau, a little hut so called, in which he wrote several verses; for he often used to visit it during the short time of his residing here, which was only six weeks before his death, although he often used to come to Ermenonville with the Marquis's family before. Of his dwelling-house I shall speak Within this hut is written, Jean Jacques est immortel. From it is another fine view; it stands among craggy rocks. hereafter. Descending "Descending into another valley,, we went by the water side through groves and across a meadow to the tower of la belle Gabrielle d'Estrées, who was mistress to James Il y to be cared Henry IV. Tradition says this garden was their first place of rendezvous, which occasioned the Marquis to build this tower; it is in the Gothic style, and ornamented with trophies and verses. Among the rest is the very armour which belonged to a faithful follower of Henry IV., whose name I forget, and who passing through the street where that prince was murdered, a few days after that event, fell down in an agony of grief, and died the next day. "Passing by a pretty grotto, by the side of a bubbling fountain of the finest water I ever saw, we at length arrived at Rousseau's garden, one of the sweetest spots I ever beheld, quite sequestered, and planted in the most romantic style; it chiefly consists of an irregular lawn, surrounded with a variety of trees and shrubs, and ornamented with flowers, but apparently all in a state of nature; nor is the hand of art to be traced at all, except in the beautiful velvet of the turf. On a tree is an inscription, signifying that there Jean Jacques used often to retire, to admire the works of nature, to feed his favourite birds, and play with the Marquis's children. Near this spot is a house intended for his dwelling, but he died before it was finished; 'tis a comfortable cottage, with a little garden of flowers before it, and is embosomed in apple-trees, vines, &c. In a small arched building near it, the Marquis at first intended to have buried Rousseau, but changed his mind. From this place we soon reached the front of the house opposite to that whence we set out, and our delightful tour was at an end. "I think you will not be displeased at my giving you so particular an account of it, so I make no apology for the length of my letter; but I have more to tell you. Hearing that the widow of Rousseau was living at a place not far out of our road to Paris, and that many strangers visited her, we felt a strong desire to do the same; but had some fears lest we should discover something in her which might excite disagreeable sensations, and even perhaps lessen our veneration for her husband; for we heard that she had been his servant, and after having lived with him in that capacity ten years, he said to her Ma bonne amie, I am satisfied with your fidelity, and wish I could make you an adequate return. I have nothing to give you but my hand. If you think that worth having, it is yours.' They were married; and lived together sixteen years afterwards very comfortably. She was several years younger than her husband. At last curiosity prevailed, and we went to see her. She received us with the greatest politeness, and appeared much pleased with our visit; spoke in the most becoming manner of her husband, and readily answered every question I put to her. What I principally learned from her was as follows:-The character of Julia was drawn from Madame Bois de la Tour of Lyons, a lady still living, with whom Mr. and Mrs. Rousseau often spent a great deal of time; she has a large family, and is the admiration of all who know her. The story of Julia has not, however, any connexion with hers. How far that is founded in truth, Mrs. Rousseau said, was only known to its author. The idea that Ermenonville was the scene of it, or that the real father of Julia lived there, is without foundation. She assured me that the Confessions of Rousseau were really all of his own writing. She confided the manuscript to the Marquis de Girardin, who expunged several names and anecdotes relating to people still living, but against her consent; for she thought the whole ought to have been published as the author left it. I think more ought to have been expunged, at least the name of Madame de Warens ought to have been kept secret. "We asked her which was the best portrait of Rousseau. She showed us a plaster bust, which was cast from his face a few hours after death, and which, she said, resembled him exactly. The expression of the face, as well as its form, is vastly superior to that of any likeness of him I ever saw. There is great serenity in the countenance, and much sensibility. The mouth is uncommonly beautiful." This is a very different acount of Rousseau and Therese from many of those we have been accustomed to receive; and it should be remembered that the writer was upon the spot, and the death of the Man of Nature and of Truth then very recent. The tourist continued his journey through the South of France, and went by sea from Marseilles to Genoa. His letters, addressed alternately to his father or mother, continue the narrative of his tour through the principal Italian cities. His introductions from London and Paris procured him the acquaintance of the principal literary and scientific men in the places he visited, and of most of them he speaks with warm esteem. He was at Rome during the Carnival, saw the Pretender there, and at Naples, saw that other old lion, Sir William Hamilton. The replies NO. X.-VOL. II. 2 L |