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immense fertility altogether and cultivation which have turned it into the flourishing garden I saw. I left my carriage, which I sent back to Brussels, and taking a footman with me, got into a diligence, and arrived at Lille, in France, at 5 o'clock in the evening, after a very pleasant day's journey, which was a most agreeable disappointment, for when I first got into that "infernal machine", which the French call a diligence, one would suppose because it goes rapidly, (generally it goes very slowly,) I was absolutely nervous, and had a mind to get out again at once and go down to Ostend, and embark in the steam packet-boat there. However, I persevered,―braced up my resolution, and, as I said just now, became so completely reconciled to my new situation, that, in spite of my excessive self-indulgence and love of ease, I have seldom passed eight hours more agreeably in any kind of carriage. Leaving Lille at 5 in the morning, and passing through Dunkirk, etc., to Calais, at 8 in the evening. This morning set out in a little steam-packet, and reached this after four hours' passage. I shall proceed to London to-night. I bring letters. from Lady Westmoreland to her daughter-in-law, the famous Lady patroness of Almacks, and head of all fashion, whose acquaintance I am really curious to make,-Lady Jersey, and to Lady Wm. Russell and Lord Bristol; and, from Sir R. Adair, to Lords Gray, Lansdowne, Holland and Brougham,-besides others. My stay in England will necessarily be very short,not above ten days or so, and I shall, perhaps, on that account, not profit as much by these letters as I otherwise should; but I still stand a good chance of seeing the haute-noblesse of England, in London life, to some advantage,—and it is now almost the only thing about which I have any curiosity, for I am unhappily blasé upon most of the subjects which once interested

me.

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C's. conversation with me, the first day I saw him, gave me a strong fit of home-sickness, and kept me awake all night. But the truth is, I never suffered more from ennuyée, my inveterate enemy, than in the midst of all this supposed splendor and pleasure. I am just in that state of mind in which Goëthe's Faust made his compact with the devil.

LONDON, 28TH JUNE.

Arriving here at about 7 o'clock last Sunday, I travelled up from the neighborhood of the post-office, where I was set down, to the Clarendon Hotel, in new Bond-street, (the most fashionable house in London). Sunday is religiously kept in England: it was to me a dull and quiet one. On Monday, I sent out my letters. On Tuesday, I got a note from Lady Hastings, who is now here with her charming family, telling me she had just heard of my arrival, and enclosing me a card for a ball at the

Countess of Wemys', where I should meet much good company, and, especially, the haute-noblesse of Scotland. I went at halfpast 11 o'clock, and found the rooms still empty, and it was not until near half-past 12 that dancing began in good earnest. I was exceedingly struck with the size of the women, which appeared to me rather gigantic, and with their bad waltzing. But, as the great majority present were Caledonians, they soon struck up reels, and danced them with a spirit and fervor that charmed me. I never saw more national enthusiasm at any meeting of these "Northern folk", famous as they are for it. Lady Hastings called my attention to the dancing of Lord Douglas, which is particularly renowned in its way; and to a couple near us, Lady L. and a singularly exhilerated and springy little gentleman, who snapped his fingers as he capered about, as if they were castanets. This personage, she told me, was seventy-three years of age, (he looked fifty). He had been celebrated for minuets de la cour in the reign of good King George III. I went honie very much pleased with this truly national and hearty exhibition in the grande monde, and, on arriving there, found a note from Lady Jersey, enclosing a card for Almacks next day, and requesting me to call on her the day after that. Would you believe it! I did not go to Almacks,-great as the privilege of admission there is thought, and singularly precious, as granted in so special a manner by the mighty Lady Patroness herself. But I was fatigued, sleepy and unwell, and, besides, really have too little curiosity about such things now, to put myself at all out of the way to enjoy them. The next day I was almost ashamed to confess my delinquency to her imperial ladyship, whom I saw, according to her appointment, at 3 o'clock. Her house struck me as very fine, accustomed as I am to palaces; but I was more engrossed with her than with her entourage, a part of which, I ought not to forget to mention, was the Earl of Roslyn. She asked me whom and what I was desirous of seeing, and was liberal in her offers of service, etc. I rose to go away, she rose also, and said "Here's a fine picture", leading the way into an adjoining room. As she passed, she stopped to say something to me, and fixed her somewhat hawkish eyes on mine with a gaze fixed and intense: she looked, or rather glanced, then, into a mirror at her side, and then went on. I had thus a fair opportunity of surveying the whole person of this great dictator of the fashionable world of London; and think now I understand, what once appeared to me mysterious enough, the secret and the character of her domination over men's and women's minds. But, as this is "deep contemplation", as Jaques says, I will keep my philosophy for another occasion.

I dine, to-day, with Lord Lansdowne,-to-morrow, with Lord Palmerston, and, on Monday, with Sir Alex. Johnstone, when

I hope to meet the Hastings'. Meanwhile, a great musical festival, repeated at intervals of two or three days, at Westminster Abbey, the jubilee of the fiftieth anniversary of the one which you may remember old -'s. giving an account of at our table, once, when he discomfited poor with his sentiment. I shall try to get a ticket for the last, when the "Messiah" is to be performed. Addio,-ever faithful, H. S. L.

The same to the same.

BRUSSELS, MAY 17, 1835.

I received, my dear Mary, three days ago, your letter of 10th April, in which you give me a commission to buy you some paints, etc. I shall have great pleasure in doing so one of these days, but I really cannot say when precisely. If I return in October, I will send them with the boxes that will take out my own things. I am very glad to find you have become such an enthusiast in painting, though for heaven's sake take care of your eyes. From indulging too much in a similar passion for books, my own give me sometimes rather alarming hints. But, in spite of such drawbacks, great and small, the love of art and science, that is to say, the love of truth and beauty,-when it becomes an engrossing, habitual, passionate feeling, is worth more than all the gifts of fortune. There is one of its good effects which I have never seen pointed out, though it is impossible to overrate its importance. It elevates one's sense of his own dignity, and, at the same time, makes you feel that it is a dignity which the world can neither give nor take away. Thus it mitigates, if it does not entirely cure, that worst of all the diseases of our fallen nature, (I know that forbidden tree is called the tree of knowledge,)-that, indeed, by which man fell as angels did before us, a craving, restless, self-tormenting ambition. This seems paradoxical, and yet it is strictly true,-for you may set it down for a universal truth, that the greatest lover of art, like true lovers of your own dear sex, ask no dowry with their mistresses but their own complete perfections; and just by so much as their passion is alloyed by any worldly motive, by just so much their power of expressing it is diminished, and affectation and artifice take the place, in what they do, of all-eloquent

nature.

I am happy to learn you have received the music. I do not remember all the pieces I sent,-Il Flauto Magico, Don Giovanni, Otello, the Muette, but what are the others? Don Giovanni is the admitted master-piece of your favorite Mozart. The Muette is the chef d'œuvre of Auber, the French composer; and, as

VOL. I.-31

French music is a most admirable thing, an opera I never tire of in the performance. It has, in Brussels, an historical interest, which I must let you share in. In the second act two very animated and popular airs occur,-"Amis la matinée est belle," etc., and "Amour sacré de la patrie," etc. It was after the second of these songs that the young men of this city rushed out of the theatre, in 1930, to begin their revolutionary insurrection. This event has since been associated with the song, and made it a sort of national air, like those which Athenian patriots sang in honor of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, their deliverers from the tyranny of the Pisistratides. My love for music always has been intense, so that I count upon passing many pleasant hours with you, as you revive my old recollections by playing the master-pieces I have sent you,—to which I shall add many more.

Mr. Livingston, as you have by this time heard, left Paris in high dudgeon, his wife and daughter with him, leaving his sonin-law, Mr. B., Chargé d'Affaires. His stay is to be only until the Chamber of Peers confirm (as they very probably will in a few days) the vote of the Chamber of Deputies, appropriating the money to pay us, but requiring that something they have taken offence at be first explained. I consider this as all flummery, just to save appearances and soothe the deeply mortified pride, or perhaps vanity, of "the grande nation." But Mr. L. chose to view the matter in a different light. They have been, for some time past, I hear, very much dissatisfied with their position at Paris, and the premature publication of Mr. L's. dispatches, according to our absurd American plan, made that position at length quite unenviable. The consequences, I fear, will be a complete rupture between the countries. an influence, which, I am very sure, will be exerted to the utmost to bring about this issue. Besides that, I should judge, the tone of the newspapers, especially on the side of the majority, hold a language inconsistent with peaceful purposes and feelings. It makes my own movements necessarily more doubtful, for it was immediately on receiving the news of the vote of the money in the Chamber of Deputies, that I asked leave to return home, assigning that vote as a reason for supposing there would be nothing particularly important for me to do in Europe henceforth, and requesting to be allowed to go home to mind my own business.

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We are a nation of systematic self-flatterers, and no man, who does not roar you lustily in the chorus of adulation, can pass for a good patriot. Apropos of roaring, if Mr. L., in his published despatches, had "augmented his voice", as the whole thing would have gone off smoothly, and Louis Philippe would have said, "Let him roar again." But, begging your

says,

pardon for passing so rapidly from Mozart to Bottom and his bellowing, (those blackguards of Shakspeare are so taking, one never loses sight of them).

We call it economy to send men abroad in places which they cannot fill as they ought, without ruining their families, and which they abandon as soon as they decently can, leaving all their business unfinished, to be done by some successor, as inexperienced, as ready, and as much in a hurry to get home as his predecessor. However, Jonathan's men, I find, are beginning to pay him off in his own coin.

While I write this a flash of lightning, accompanied with quite a respectable clap of thunder, reminds me it is spring, which I might have forgotten from my chilliness. The truth is there is no spring in Europe out of Italy and Greece. I hear it has been horribly cold, bad weather for some weeks past, except a few days.

17TH MAY. Fine weather. Sore throat gone. I leave Brussels to-morrow or the day after for Cologne and Boun; perhaps I shall go up the Rhine as far as Heidelberg.

Ever affectionately,

H. S. L.

The same to the same.

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, AUG. 24, 1835.

sure.

My dear Mary,-Upon my arrival here yesterday, and returning from a week's excursion on the Rhine, your letter of the 7th July was handed me, and afforded me very sincere pleaYour extract from the Baltimore paper, or something to the same effect, I had seen before in the National Intelligencer, very much to my surprise, and, I had almost said, mortification, knowing, as I do, the source it comes from, (a detestable caitiff -): so far am I from having my vanity tickled by it. Yet, I confess I was glad to see the paragraph in the and for this singular reason one of the most savage attacks ever made on me, and the whole Southern Review, appeared in that very paper, and, I dare say, written by the same person, in consequence of some remarks of mine on

at

How strange a creature is man, and how utterly good for nothing his praise or his blame.

The idea of reviving the Southern Review seems to me perfectly visionary. I would not do again what I did for it before for any compensation. It has dimmed my eyes and whitened my hair (at least, helped to do so) before my time, and I am no longer capable of that sort of excitement,-besides various other

reasons.

AUG. 30, I add these lines just for the sake of mentioning

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