I now lay on my oars awhile: I was disheartened by the failure of the attempts I had hitherto made, and began to suspect that my very efforts to please prevented my pleasing, and that this object could only be attained by an ease of manner which was incompatible with anxiety to enjoy it. I was confirmed in this idea by a casual meeting with Charles Annesley: I had never hitherto met with any one who was so completely the model of what I wished and had tried to become. We dined at six o'clock, and were detained at our wine, (though none of us drank much) till half-past ten, solely by the attraction of his conversation. During all this time he talked incessantly, yet nobody thought he talked a word too much, or seemed to desire for a moment to take the lead out of his hands. Not a subject was started on which he did not give information, useful or entertaining, or both: 1 never knew such a memory. He had all the best of our poets at his beck, and without the least apparent effort, brought in, as aptly as if it formed part of his own conversation, the finest or liveliest passages of their works. The playfulness of his style gave animation to the least observation he made; and his gentle manner and high breeding enabled him to level his opponents in argument, without the possibility of their being offended. To two foreign gentlemen in the party, a Frenchman and an Italian, he talked in their own languages as easily and as fluently as if he had been born in their capitals. He retailed all the epigrams and smart sayings current at the moment in the first circles, and seemed to know every thing and every body. The latter, indeed, he was likely to do; for he kept the best company, being himself possessed of large independent property, and the son and heir of one of the first landed proprietors of the country, and one of the most distinguished members of the House of Commons. He had travelled very extensively, both in Europe and Asia, and introduced occasionally the most amusing descriptions of the people he had visited, and the most scientific remarks on the objects of curiosity he had seen so copious, indeed, and so delightful was the fund of diversion which his travels had enabled him to collect and dispense, that he made every one who heard him anxious to follow the route he had taken, though he always ended with assuring us, that England was the best country after all. The delight with which I contemplated the accomplishments of Annesley was as active as it was fervent. I did not see why, by attention and study, I might not succeed in following his steps, except indeed in the advantages of distinguished society, in which his station and riches gave him an unavoidable advantage over me. His skill in languages, and his knowledge of foreign countries and manners, could only be attained by travelling, and accordingly I resolved to travel. I had little preparations to delay me, and soon embarked in a packet, with fewer definable motives probably for travelling than most of the thousands who have overrun Europe since the peace, but with a fixed determination to be able to speak some other language beside my own, and to be able to say in my turn what drove Sterne abroad "They manage these things better in France." I employed two years in visiting the greater part of France, Italy, and Germany; and I returned eight months ago, with a fair knowledge of the countries and people I saw, and the power of conversing with ease in the language of the two former. I am not dissatisfied with the success of my experiment, though in this, as in all human undertakings, the result falls short of the expectation. I at least find myself a very welcome guest among my friends; and only a fortnight ago, was delighted by a young lady's telling me that she had dined the day before at a very stupid party, where I was very much wanted. I find it a much easier, as well as more successful manner of making myself agreeable, to follow the conversation instead of trying to lead it. Whatever I see ludicrous in the course of my excursions, or read in that of my studies, I carefully treasure up, to introduce when it can come in à propos. One thing I particularly avoid, as a rock on which I have often seen others split, to enter unbidden on the subject of my travels; and here, by the by, I have to complain of being sometimes wantonly forced to be a bore entirely without fault of my own. Now and then, some one of the party, who would not the least care if I were buried eleven fathoms deep in the Frozen ocean, from politeness, asks me some question about my travels, which I must answer, and cannot answer briefly, though I am perfectly aware that neither the inquirer nor any one else present, is the least interested in the reply. I think I have at length discovered the secret of shining in conversation, and will report the result of my researches for the benefit of those who may be enabled, by station or talent, to make more advantage of it than I can: "To be able to say something on the subject that may be started without shewing any anxiety or impatience to say it." More of the success than can be conceived, depends on the power of listening patiently and cheerfully; and I cannot better close this article than by quoting a saying of the Prince de Ligne, which should be deeply engraved in the minds of all who wish to render themselves agreeable in society, and to the remembrance of which I must in gratitude own myself indebted for having more than once escaped making myself very much the contrary, "Ce qui coute le plus pour plaire, c'est de cacher que l'on s'ennuie. Ce n'est pas en amusant qu'on plait. On n'amuse pas même si l'on s'aniuse : c'est en faisant croire que l'où s'amuse."- Lettres du Prince de Ligne. T. TO A FRIEND, ON A SEAL HAVING THE DEVICE OF CUPID WITH A LYRE, SEATED ON A LION. EMBLEM of Nature's happiest, noblest mould ! L. GYMNASTICS OF THE STUDIOUS. "A MERE bookish learning," says a witty old friend of ours, who lived about three centuries ago, "is both troublesome and ungraceful. I could wish," continues he, "that Paluel or Pompey, the two famous dancing-masters of my time, could have taught us to cut capers, by only seeing them do it, without stirring from our places."We commence our catalogue of the gymnastic amusements of scholars with this art, because it is certainly one of the most ancient extant, and because it is, in our apprehension, so peculiarly suitable to the literary character-a truth which, we have no doubt, we shall succeed in establishing, both by argument and authority. The ars saltandi, now most undeservedly degraded far beneath its level, was, in more ancient and noble times, a necessary acquisition to the accomplished scholar. Shall that shame us which Epaminondas accounted honourable? Did not the illustrious Scaliger perform the saltatio pyrrhica before the Emperor Maximilian, to the great admiration of all Germany-" non sine stupore totius Germania?" and shall we hesitate after such an authority as this?-There are few species of exercise which have any thing intellectual about them; but dancing is one of those few. There is something mathematical in a quadrille. But it is the more sober kinds of dances which are particularly suited to the studious mind, such as the solemn and graceful movements of those measures, which the students at law of other days were accustomed to perform before the critical eyes of the great dignitaries of the profession. Was not this a more rational mode of teaching their legal ideas how to shoot, than the present practice of merely requiring the student to eat his way to distinction?-was it not, we ask, infinitely more noble and more intellectual? and may not the decrease of deep and sound lawyers in our day be mainly attributable to this source? There can be no doubt that Lord Coke was an excellent dancer. The Lord Chancellor Hatton, it is well known, was much celebrated for his saltatory abilities; and, indeed, may be said to have stepped to the woolsack per saltum." He was first taken notice of by the Queen, for the comeliness of his person, and for his graceful dancing in a masque at court; but more afterwards, for his great abilities." We always find envy accompanying ability and success; and accordingly, the serjeants of that day, vainly emulous of the fame which his graceful dancing had acquired, refused to plead before the "grave Lord-Keeper." In 1633, the Inns of Court presented the King and Queen with a masque, with which their majesties were highly satisfied; and no doubt, on that occasion, the gentlemen of the long robe displayed much skill and dexterity in the exercise of their saltatory functions. Sir William Jones, one of the most scientific of our modern lawyers, seems to have been the last who paid that attention to this noble science which it so justly deserves. During his residence in London he was accustomed to receive instructions from a celebrated professor of this art; and who shall say that the beautiful specimen of legal and logical reasoning, which the work on Bailments presents, may not be in a great measure attributed to Sir William's proficiency in the art saltatory? Riding on horseback has been a favourite amusement with many literary men, and deservedly so. On horseback you can take the best exercise in the shortest time; and besides, the attention is more earnestly engaged in the exercise itself, than in the mere act of walking, and consequently it is highly useful to those whose minds are too apt to dwell upon one train of thought. It is a sort of new existence to mount a high-spirited generous horse. We become endowed with all the corporeal advantages which Nature has bestowed upon him: we are swift as he is; we bound forward with equal velocity; and as he caracoles and shakes his mane, we feel animated with some of the same spirit. Moreover this exercise is peculiarly fitted to counteract the evil effects of a sedentary life—a fact for which we will vouch high authorities, since Plato recommends it as beneficial to the health, and Pliny says it is good for the stomach and the joints. (In the absence of authorities from Galen or Dr. Baillie, we hope the dicta of these two philosophers will be thought sufficient.) Many erudite and accomplished scholars have been much attached to this exercise.* We are told by Monstrelet, that a grave doctor of divinity, by name Maistre Pierre Pol, was very fond of riding, but always preferred a side-saddle on which he used regularly to make his appearance in the streets of Paris. Montaigne must have been a great equestrian: "I do not willingly alight," says he, "when I am once on horseback, for it is the place where, whether sick or well, I find myself most at ease." We know that Erasmus was fond of riding, from an anecdote which Roger Ascham has left us of him. So was Sir Philip Sidney; but all the wits and scholars of that day had still a large portion of the chivalrous character of antiquity in their composition. But of all the men that ever bestrid a horse, there is no one that can match Alfieri as an equestrian. Never was there in the world such a decided case of hippomania. The affection of an Arab for his family courser was scarcely superior to the esteem and love which the Italian poet appears to have felt for his four-footed companions. He bought about a dozen horses in England, and with the assistance of his grooms conducted them himself over the Alps, guiding their footsteps with all the care and attention which an anxious travel *Gilbert Wakefield is an exception-he was never on horseback in his life. ler would display for his friend's safety. He was indeed a bold and adventurous rider. In taking a high five-barred gate, his horse fell with him, and Alfieri broke his arm. Nothing deterred by this accident, he mounted again, and making a second attempt succeeded in clearing the gate. Most assuredly, whether mounted on his English hunter, or his Italian Pegasus, Alfieri was a man who would not easily yield to obstacles. Pope seems to have considered the exercise of riding as peculiarly favourable to literary contemplations. In that most scholastic ride in company with old Lintot, which the poet describes with such spirit in his letter to Lord Burlington, the two equestrians, author and bookseller, alighted to refresh themselves under the shade of some spreading trees. Lintot pulled out a pocket Horace, and requested Pope to amuse himself in "turning an ode" till they mounted again. "Lord!" says Lintot, "if you pleased, what a clever miscellany you might make at leisure hours." "Perhaps I may," said Pope, if we ride on; the motion is in aid to my fancy, a round trot very much awakens my spirits; then jog on apace, and I'll think as hard as I can." This very much reminds one of Swift's song, "Pegasus loves a jolting pace." The recipe, however, does not seem to have been very efficacious; for when, after the lapse of a full hour, Lintot broke out, "Well, Sir! how far have you gone?" Pope's answer was only "Seven miles." The motion of a carriage, too, is very useful in rousing the thoughts; of which Sir Richard Blackmore is an example, " who, in that old rumbling chariot of his, between Fleet-ditch and St. Giles's pound, shall make you half a Job." But, after all, the primitive exercise is walking, an exercise, however, in which (ex vi termini) sedentary people can scarcely be supposed to indulge. And yet walking is certainly favourable to thought. Perhaps it acts on the mind someway in the same manner as it does upon the body, and causes at the same time a circulation of blood and ideas. Certainly "a walk in the garden" (we hope we are not trespassing) is as pleasant an amusement for the body and soul of man, be he scholar or not, as any in the world. It is so easy to put down your book and take up your hat, and seek your garden, and there walk, stand, saunter, or sit, just as the humour moves you. We should like to know, amongst all the quiet unpretending pleasures the world can furnish, what is better than to sit reading an entertaining book on a sunny day in the shade ? We should like to know what The court, camp, church, the vessel and the mart, for such hours of tranquil enjoyment? Is it not Cowley that wisely tells Evelyn |