produced. Such an honour will be less splendid, but more sincere and respectful, than all the pomp and ceremony on the banks of the Avon. I have the honour, &c. Towards the end of this year, Mr. Jones accompanied the family of Lord Spencer in a journey to the continent. I cannot better describe his occupations and reflections, during this excursion, than in his own words: *Mr. Jones to C. Reviczki. Nice, Feb. 4, 1770. The date of my letter will not fail to surprise you; for I do not write from the plains through which the Thames or Isis, so justly dear to me,' glides, but from the foot of the Alps, and in front of the Ligurian sea. I have resided in this delightful little spot nearly three months. It was not possible, therefore, for me to receive your two most acceptable letters, dated in September and January, before my departure from England. I have read them with singular pleasure, to which their length did not a little contribute. You cannot conceive my anxiety to peruse your Treatise on the Military Art of the Turks it is, I understand, deposited in Lord Spencer's house in London; but I expect to receive a copy by the first vessel which sails from England for this port, and I will take care that the three remaining copies shall be safely and expeditiously delivered to your friends, and, if yours, mine also, although I do not even know them by sight. The approbation which your work has received in Germany delights, without suprising, me. It was first mentioned to me by a nobleman of that country, ap Appendix, No. 11. parently a man of taste and amiable manners, who holds, I believe, a public office at Milan; and he promised not only to send it to me, but to inform me of your health, and where to address you; a promise which gave me the greatest satisfaction. For I suspected (forgive the injustice of the suspicion) that I no longer retained a place in your remembrance, and in consequence despaired of hearing from you, unless I first wrote to you. In this suspense I received your two most welcome letters, with fourteen odes: they are not only worthy of the lyre, but the lyre to which they are sung ought to be of gold. I am, indeed, proud of your condescension in asking my opinion of them; as I can by no means think myself entitled to such an honour. I will, however, make my remarks upon them as well as I can, and return them to you when I receive an answer to this letter; for I should be sorry to trust such precious writings to the uncertain conveyance of the post. This letter will probably reach you in a fortnight; and I beg you to gratify me by an early acknowledgment of it; for I assure you, with great truth, that nothing can give me more pleasure than a letter from you, however hasty. You, perhaps, wish to know how I employed my time after your departure from England: a short explanation will suffice. Amongst other occupa tions, I revised and corrected my Commentaries on Oriental Poetry, and when I was preparing an accurate transcription of the manuscript for your perusal, I was unexpectedly interrupted by a business of more importance.* * The business here alluded to is the translation of the life of Nadir Shah, the circumstances of which have been already detailed, and are repeated in another letter; the particular mention made of them in the letter before the reader, is, therefore, untranslated. I had scarcely brought this work to a conclusion, when, in consequence of the sudden indisposition of the younger sister of my pupil, (who frequently talks of you) her father determined to pass the winter with his family in Italy, or the South of France. I was, therefore, under the necessity of entrusting my history (as the king of Denmark was anxious for its publication) to a Frenchman, upon whose accuracy I could depend, for correcting the errors of the press. I have just learned from him that the work is printed; and I will take care that not even his Danish majesty shall receive a copy of it before you. Having thus left England, we repaired to Paris, and after a tedious residence there, we proceeded with great rapidity by the Rhône to Lyons, and from that place continued our journey, by Marseilles, Frejus, and Antibes, to Nice. Where spring, in all her charms perpetual reigns, Even here we shall remain longer than I wish; but I hope to return to England by the beginning of June. I propose, however, if I should have an opportunity, to cross the sea about the middle of this month, and visit Florence, (that celebrated colony of the triumviri, and the cradle of reviving literature) as well as Rome, (the nurse of all elegant arts) and perhaps Naples; but on this plan you shall hereafter know my determination. You may perhaps enquire, what are my occupations at this place. I will tell you, in few words; music, with all its sweetness and feeling; difficult and abstruse problems in mathematics; the beautiful and sublime in poetry and painting; these occupy all my senses and thoughts; nor do I neglect the study of the military art, which it would be the greatest disgrace to an English gentleman not to be acquainted with. I have written - M much in my native language, and amongst other things, a little Tract on Education, in the manner of Aristotle, that is, the analytick manner. I have, moreover, begun a tragedy, to which I have given the title of Soliman, whose most amiable son perished miserably, as you know, by the treachery of a step-mother. The story is full of the most affecting incidents, and has more 'sublimity even than the tragedies of Eschylus, as it abounds with Oriental images. I send you translations of two odes, one from Hafez, the other from a very ancient Arabic poet; but I have adapted the images of the latter to the Roman manners, and I fill the remainder of the paper with a Greek epigram, in imitation of a little English song. Farewel; you shall have your papers as soon as I am informed that you have received this letter. *Mr. Jones to N. B. Halhed. Nice, March 1, 1770. I received your short lettter with great pleasure, as it convinced me, that you were not insensible of my esteem for you, and such as resemble you. I wrote immediately to my friends, as you desired, most earnestly requesting them to promote your views, as if my own interest were concerned; if they accede to my wishes in this respect, they will oblige me and themselves too; for, doubtless, I shall be ready to make them every return that I can. I think, however, that I shall have it in my power to serve you more effectually, after my return to England; and I beg you to believe, that no inclination or efforts, on my part, shall ever be wanting to promote your wishes. Appendix, No. 12. My health is good; but I long for those enjoyments of which I know not well how to bear the privation. When I first arrived here, I was delighted with a variety of objects, rarely, if ever, seen in my own country;....olives, myrtles, pomegranates, palms, vineyards, aromatic plants, and a surprising variety of the sweetest flowers, blooming in the midst of winter. But the attraction of novelty has ceased; I am now satiated, and begin to feel somewhat of disgust. The windows of our inn are scarcely thirty paces from the sea, and, as Ovid beautifully says.... Tired on the uniform expanse I gaze.... I have, therefore, no other resource than with Cicero to count the waves, or with Archimedes and Archytas to measure the sands. I cannot describe to you how weary I am of this place, nor my anxiety to be again at Oxford, where I might jest with you, or philosophize with Poore. If it be not inconvenient, I wish you would write to me often; for I long to know how you and our friends are; but write, if you please, in Latin, and with gaiety, for it grieves me to observe the uneasiness under which you appear to labour. Let me ever retain a place in your affection, as you do in mine; continue to cultivate polite literature; woo the muses; reverence philosophy; and give your days and nights to composition, with a due regard, however, to the preservation of your health. *Mr. Jones to C. Reviczki, Nice, April, 1770. It is impossible to describe my vexation at not hearing from you; and I can only conclude that you * Appendix, No. 13. |