and other Europeans left the small-pox and the lues in the South Sea Islands. The natives complain, that the Spaniards left them the swelled throat; Cook the intermittent fever; Vancouver the dysentery; and Bligh the scrofula. Europe has also introduced to them a new and more destructive method of making war. The diffusion of knowledge, by creating a vibration of interests from one end of the globe to the other, has annihilated space; by bringing countries, the most remote, into contact with each other. This has led to a juster equilibrium in respect to civilization. For commerce is one of the greatest and most profound of all instruments, for effecting the result Nature has instituted, by establishing a community of wants. The second instrument of civilization arises out of the greatest of all moral calamities-war. For savage countries and corrupt nations, as an elegant writer has remarked, gain essential and lasting advantages, by being conquered by a people, governed by wiser laws, and distinguished by more humane institutions than themselves. The effects of Roman conquests yielded, in point of interest to those who were conquered, only to the advantages, which have been the constant results of British conquests;-whether in America, in Africa, or in Asia. Such are the advantages arising from war, from commerce, and from colonization. But those, who emigrate, seldom cease to lament the country they have quitted; and hence they are at all times ready to address that country in imagination, as a lover addresses the mistress he has left behind : Where'er I go, whatever realms I see, My heart, untravelled, fondly turns to thee; PLEASURES OF CONTEMPLATION. BUT we have ventured on these subjects too widely and too long. Nature is so captivating; her methods so various; her laws so mysterious; her similitudes so beautiful; and her contrasts so magnificent we we are led so insensibly from plants to insects; from insects to fishes, birds, and quadrupeds; thence to the subject of emigration; and, lastly, to the love of the country, which gave us birth, that though we have become enriched by the various transitions, we have become embarrassed also. In drawing similitudes, and making contrasts, the mind, though spiritualized, as it were, by the contemplation, is able to look into Nature only in parts. Nature, as a whole, it has no power to approach. Men, in whom the energy of spontaneous ambition excites no appetite for the investigation of phenomena, are satisfied that effects cannot always be elicited from causes, and that causes cannot always be traced from results. And because Nature is stupendous in her works, and mysterious in her operations, they are unwilling, and indeed almost fearful, to exercise the powers, she has delegated. But they cannot always resist the majesty of their Creator! For no pleasures are so bland in their qualities, or so pure in their sources; and none are there so worthy the vast capacities of the human mind. And though nothing is entirely certain, but that space is infinite, yet, as things present bear presumptive evidence to things unseen, the mind delights in the endeavour to trace the beauties, the harmonies, and the sublimities, of the material universe, not only up to Nature, but to "Nature's God." When the waves break upon the distant shore with a wild, solemn, melancholy, yet delightful murmur ;—when we observe the regular succession of the seasons;-the rising of the sun from behind rocks lifting their spires, as it were, to the clouds-when we behold meteors; comets; planets; the blue vault; and the uniform reproduction of animal and vegetable life; we feel, that sublimity dwells in beauty, beauty in order, and order in sublimity. An homage, at once pure and ardent, meditative and reflective, diffuses the cheek of manly virtue with delicious tears; and, turning with disgust and impatience from the cold spectacle of artificial life, light is beheld, where others see only mystery; clemency and benevolence are observed to proceed out of apparent cruelty; truth springs even out of optical and mental delusions; and out of apparently frigid commentaries are elicited the benefits of justice and wisdom. The INFINITE is every where, and speaks in all things. NATURAL ENJOYMENTS. As our sensual enjoyments acquire a zest from a union with the mental, so each of them derives additional goût from those objects, which flatter the appetites of both. A fine day, therefore, as Sir William Temple has observed, is as much a sensual, as it is a mental enjoyment. "It is a banquet given by Heaven to earth." It unites the character of luxury and temperance. The Italians live in the air. Walking under piazzas; sitting in porticos; and reclining under bowers, many of their domestic banquets are peculiarly agreeable a. How much more pleasure some of us derive from the simplest of collations, under the shade of a tree, than from the most luxurious banquet in a dining-room, every person of taste is ready to acknowledge. When we are enjoying the society of ladies, of a fine summer's evening, in a drawing-room, opening into a green-house, who will not confess, that the effects of their conversation are far more flattering to the VOL. II. a Cur non sub alta vel platana, vel hac Piu jacentes, &c. &c.-HOR. Carm. lib. ii. 2. H mind, than at those moments, when, dressed in all the splendour of decoration, their persons derive additional lustre from the blaze of Grecian lamps, the heat of fires, and the reflection of mirrors? How agreeable to our palate are our grapes, pines, and nectarines, when partaken in a bower, formed of roses and honeysuckles, which seem to vie with each other in imparting their fragrance to our peaches and our melons! If these are not the "Cœnæ deorum" of Horace,. they are at least the "epulæ deorum." Sherry becomes Burgundy, water nectar, honey manna, and bread ambrosia. While the flageolet, which merely pleases in the odeum, enchants us among rocks; and seems even to articulate, if it be sounded in a narrow valley or glen, where the music of its echoes charm even more than the modulations of the instrument itself. No slumber is more delightful than that, which is brought on by the mingled sounds of natural music. Dryden alludes to this lulling power, in his poem of Cymon and Iphigenia. The lovely nymph lies sleeping on the banks of a river: "The fanning wind upon her bosom blows; To meet the fanning wind her bosom rose; · The fanning wind, and purling stream, continue her repose." Virgil speaks of "Molles sub arbore Somnia;" Lucretius has a similar passage: while the power of natural objects to lull the senses of the elegant, is beautifully insinuated by Horace; and more particularly alluded to by Spenser, in his Bower of Bliss. One of the archbishops of Saltzburgh frequently dined in his garden and his aviary: and Leopold, emperor of Germany, twice took a collation under the shade of the hazel tree, growing in the city of Frankfort. "I had rather dine under this tree," said his imperial majesty, "than in the finest palace in Germany." And here, my Lelius, you must excuse me, for quoting one of your own letters, written from VilLib. v. Ep. ii. 23. 27. & Georg. ii. 1. 470. Lib. ii. leneuve, situated in the bosom of the Savoy mountains. “When I arrived at the bridge, crossing the Doron, I sat myself down upon the grass, took out my wallet, and regaled myself with a few dates and oranges, I had brought with me in my fishingbag, with great satisfaction. Perceiving a cottage at some distance, I walked thither; and, procuring some milk and a little honey, I enjoyed a repast, of which the patriarchs would not have disdained to have partaken. I then laid myself down upon the grass, and gazed for some time upon the clear autumnal sky above; and sent my imagination among those innumerable globes, that invisibly fill the vast regions of space, till sleep overtaking me in the excursion, I fell into a dream; and having partaken of an agreeable repast myself, I fancied that I saw Camöens and Tasso reclining under orange trees; and satisfying their hunger with the fruits above them, which they were not always capable of doing, when in this world of trouble and misfortune. On the other hand, Voltaire,the companion of kings,-was weaving a crown of laurel for them; and the princes, in whose reigns Tasso was a prey to melancholy, and Camöens died of hunger in the streets, were eating wild leeks, and drinking water from a fountain, in which were a vast number of crawling reptiles." BANQUETS. As a contrast to the simple enjoyments of moderate appetites, I shall present you with an account of the banquets of princes. Diodorus Siculus relates, that an Agrigentine, on the marriage of his daughter, feasted upwards of 20,000 persons. The brother of the Emperor Vitellius once treated him with 2,000 fishes, and 7,000 birds; all "scarce and exquisite." Had Vitellius lived, says Josephus, not even the whole revenue of the Roman empire could have maintained his table! |