cause they have no genius for the little. There cannot be a greater mistake. They have astonishing acumen for the minutiæ minutissimæ of the art. Be you ever so acute yourself (I mean not in the art predatory), you will find that it is a contest of heads, from the time you enter to the time you quit Italy. I say not much about the inns, for I think there we beat them, or we used to do. I have not been of late a traveller, and I hope reform has reached our own inns; and that no longer, if you remark upon a bill, and that there must be a mistake, the waiter shall say, "Yes, sir, we have omitted to charge the vegetables:" or, that he shall tell you, with the coolest air in the world, when you say " Why," in a tone of remonstrance, "why, this is dearer than the at Oxford;" "Yes, sir, we are reckoned a trifle higher." But there is this difference in the two countries; in the one you are cheated out of your money, but into comforts; in the other out of both, but certainly less money. I will, therefore, give up inns, and in every sense, for, in Italy, I never mean to enter another. But the cafés are very cheap and abominably dirty. When I was there, there were two things which rendered them odious-the number of beggars and the number of flies. At every sip of coffee you took, multitudes of beggars' hands were close to your mouth, and multitudes of flies in it. There could be no conversation for the reiterated cry of "Datemi qualche cosa. But vermin of all kinds abound; and, what is curious, places long unlet, humanly untenanted, the fleas take possession of. I left Italy with a most imperfect notion of Michael Angelo's great work, "The Day of Judgment." I wore white pantaloons when I entered the chapel, and, in an instant they were like pepper and salt worsted, covered with thousands of fleas

once put my head within half an inch of one, in closing a shutter, going to bed at Subiaco ; nor of tarantulas and "such small deer," because I have been reading an account of spiders in Persia, that, as I perfectly detest the genus, make me quite shudder to think of; and, in comparison, all these matters in Italy, excepting the fleas I cannot give up them, for they never gave up me-are nothing. Nothing more astonished me than the universal cheating of shopkeepers, and even bankers. I have received a small copper coin-under a farthing, nicely packed in the middle of a rouleau of Napoleons, from the bank; and have been cheated out of a few pounds, in the transfer from a bank in one place to a bank in another, because the banker chose to omit moneta fina. But, at a shop, if you offered often a third, or even a quarter, you would pay too much. I travelled some days in company with the wife of a manufacturer, who cautioned me on this point. I could not believe it; and, when I arrived at Rome, she desired me to go out and try the experiment. I bought a common article to ascertain the point. I forget what I gave, but it was about a third of what I was asked, and I felt ashamed to offer it, but I did so for the experiment's sake, and found I had given a little too much. But the following account as to this matter will surprise you:-I went to a bookseller's-a publisher's library. He had no shop, not to external appearance. He was a most urbane, aged, gentlemanly, white-headed man, the author of antiquities, &c. &c. &c. There, I suppose, were the literati and the dilettanti, for the room, in respect of company, reminded me of Mr Murray's in Albemarle Street, where you may breathe an atmosphere of learning, wisdom, and most urbane sociality; there was I introduced, and, when there, turned over some portfolios of

albo."

They are, I doubt not, the Pope's body-guard, whose business it is to keep your hands employed that you take away nothing of his. I suppose they do good and keep down the fever of the blood, and so you need no other phlebotomy. I will not attempt to frighten your young friend with accounts of scorpions, &c., though I

from the works of a favourite master; and, in one of the portfolios, I found an injured, soiled print of one of his subjects, which I had not before seen. The man looked so like an author, and so far above all matters extra the love of the antique and antiquities, that I scarcely knew how to make my wishes known. I did it, therefore, by a circumlocation, first admiring the print ; and then, as it was a modern one, ask

ing if it was published in Rome, then if sold in Rome. He caught eagerly at the word sold, and, without much ado, told me the price-five scudi; that is, about twenty-five shillings. I saw at once it was enormous, and thought of the caution; and, remarking that it was a little soiled, said I ought to have it for three. He took three, and off I went with my print. Within an hour I passed a Stamperia, where I saw at the window a clean impression of the very print, and a printed list of the prices, and, would you believe it, Eusebius, it was under one scudo; and, for a damaged copy, I had been asked by this white-haired piece of antiquity, and inquitous antiquity, five, and had actually given three! Oh, Eusebius, you would not have been contented with blowing him up, you would have taken fire throughout, and gunpowdered the whole edifice, regardless of the literati and dilettanti, all the while gravely discussing the probabilities of the tombs of the Horatii and Curiatii; but, as you were not there, those discussions are still going on, and still will go on. But what did I do? I quietly walked back to the grand library, and as quietly told the old gentleman that he was a thief, a rascal, and that I would expose him to all the English. The last words did the business; he looked dreadfully alarmed, and looked behind him to see who might be within hearing; and, making significant nods, and putting one hand to my mouth, to prevent my doing mischief, in great haste put the other hand into his pocket and handed me back all my money.

This was pretty well, for I came off with "flying colours," that is with the colour of my money, which was sure to fly upon some other occasion; for the Italians were too much for me. And so it happened; for in my love of the antique I forgot my prudence; and, being desirous of having some plaster casts, was recommended to an honest tradesman, who was to take them for me from some sculpture at the Vatican, the subjects of which much pleased me. They were a pastoral figure, and a freize, the search of Ceres. I made my bargain, and like a fool paid my money, and paid for the packing and the shipping. But the unplastered shepherd is still piping; and all I can hope is that Ceres has sent the plaster-cast maker to Hades instead of going there herself, and that, having some interest with Proserpine, he will be flogged daily, for my money has been cast upon the worthless. I bequeath the debt a legacy to the Pope.

I have written enough, though I have matter more, and abundant, but there is a time for all things. Whatever effect this account may have upon your young friend, I am sure you, who know me, will be satisfied that I understate things. You know I have no talent at exaggeration. Probably your friend will read Eustace, and, if he be very young, believe him. Perhaps he will read Rogers' "Italy," and tell you that it is not mine, and you will add that I have not Rogers's "Pleasures of Memory."

Vive valeque.

Z.

ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE is a descendant of one of the ancient noble provincial families of France, whose members were always actively employed in the service of their country. In the 15th century one of his ancestors is mentioned as "Capitaine de la Ville de Cluny," and his female ancestors continued to receive a "redevance' from the monastery of Cluny, until the first French Revolution, which abolished all such dues. In the Memorial des Etats de Bourgogne the family is registered. Several seignories belonged to it, such as those of D'Hurigny, D'Urcy, De Monceaux, &c., &c., and the chateau and estate of Monceaux still in his possession, by inheritance, have been for centuries in the family.

ALPHONSE MARIA LOUIS DE LAMARTINE was born on 21st October, 1791. His father was Captain of Cavalry in the Dauphiny regiment, and Chevalier of St Louis. He was one of those who remained faithful to the unfortunate and forsaken Louis XVI. ; and, together with his grandfather, uncles, aunts, &c., was imprisoned for his political opinions at Macon. The mother of Alphonse took a house looking on the prison gate, that she might show her infant daily to his father through the bars of the jail. Had it not been for the timely death of Robespierre they would all have ascended the scaffold; but, in consequence of that event, they escaped, and retired to a small residence on a wine estate called Milly, which he has since celebrated in one of his Harmonies, entitled “La Terre Natale." Is it not extraordinary that he, who was in his infancy the son of a political prisoner at Macon, should now be the political representative of that town, his birth-place, in parliament? At Milly he passed his infancy in rustic liberty, and his fond est affections gratefully attach him to this spot. There he first acquired his taste for nature. Birds, butterflies, flowers, and vineyards, were his companions, and the scenes of his early wanderings; and there the sunsets and sunrises, storms and tempests of the year, made an indelible impression on his young mind. At the college of Bellay, in the Department

of Ain, seated near the Rhone, he received his education, and early showed a great aptitude for learning, bearing away all the prizes and crowns yearly distributed. A French provincial education is at best, however, a sorry affair; and, when De Lamartine received his, there was certainly not more, but less attention paid than at present, to the formation of the mind of the student. This was, however, partially compensated for by the superior moral and religious education he then obtained. But De Lamartine was a genius and a poet. He had, in his earliest years, a passion for all that was beautiful, harmonious, and tasteful. He loved the quiet landscape, the domestic and family hearth, the grouping of virtue and cheerfulness, the melody of the birds, the humming of the bee, the active perseverance of the ant, the gay wings of the butterfly, the variegated foliage of the forest, the murmuring of the rill-the homestead, the barn, the thatched roof-the knell of the curfew, the ivy of the church, the village cemetery, the vigorous peasant, the harmony of nature, and the works of God. As he grew up, he found the moral world replete also with good. Noble and generous sentiments, a disinterested love of his fellow-creatures, and an elevated piety towards the Father of heaven and earth, took possession of his nature; and, as Aimé Martin says, in his Education des Mœurs de Famille, "Voilà pourquoi les grands écrivains nous ravissent; voilà pourquoi les grands poètes nous enlèvent ! voilà pourquoi, d'un trait de leur génie, ils soufflent sur la foule vulgaire le dénouement des Grecques pour la patrie, ou les transports de Socrate pour la vertu."

On leaving college De Lamartine returned to his family, and often retired alone to the Chateau de St Point, which belonged to his father, but which was then uninhabited, and nearly in ruins. This solitary and romantic scene was admirably adapted to the character of his mind, and suited his imaginative and poetic tendencies. He continually studied nature whilst he read history, and examined, with the eye of Christiah philosophy, the natu

ral, as well as the moral world which he inhabited.

As, during the reign of Napoleon, his family would not allow him to accept any public employment, remaining, as it did, faithful to the eldest branch of the House of Bourbon, the young De Lamartine resolved on foreign travel, and made a journey to Italy, and a long residence there, for the purpose of supplying his mind with those classical recollections which should improve his natural taste, and prepare him for his future career as a French poet. Want of occupation, to the young De Lamartine, neither suited his principles nor his tastes. He had no notion of a young man of talent, fortune, and family, having the right to eat, and drink, and laugh, and dance, and sleep, without making any attempt to mitigate the sorrows, improve the character, increase the knowledge, or ameliorate the taste of his fellow-mortals. As, then, he was interdicted by his family from accepting any civil or military employment under Napoleon, he determined on so actively occupying his time as to render himself, at least, prepared for future usefulness, when any change should take place in the destinies of France. Though not a soldier by profession, he yet received military preparation; and, when the Restoration arrived, he was permitted to become a member of the bodyguard of Louis XVIII.

The mother of De Lamartine was Mademoiselle Des Roys, a young lady of distinguished merit and beauty. Her mother was governess to the royal princes, and she was herself brought up with the present King of the French, Louis Philippe, and with Madame Adelaide, his sister. She lived to an advanced age, and died in 1828. The father of De Lamartine is still living, in his 87th year, in full possession of all his faculties, and not less venerable for his noble and consistent character, than for the number of years during which he has lived, beloved by his family, his friends, and his princes.

De Lamartine had five sisters, and on occasion of the marriage of one of them to the Count de Viguet, at Chamberry in Savoy, the poet became acquainted with his amiable and accomplished lady, the daughter of W. H. Birch, Esq., who was then travelling on the Continent with her mother. At the Marquise de la Pierre's, at

Chamberry, they first saw each other, and a deep-settled attachment was formed, which was, however, opposed by both the mother and family of Miss Birch. At length the consent of the former was obtained, on condition that De Lamartine should quit the military career, should enter on that of diplomacy, and should obtain the appointment of secretary to the French embassy in London. The father of Miss Birch was an officer of merit in the British army, and spent half his fortune in equipping a volunteer corps and battery to resist a threatened French descent on the coast of England. Little did he think at that time that his then infant child would become the wife of the greatest French poet of the age in which he lived. The maternal great-grandfather of Madame de Lamartine was the Governor Holwell, who survived the catastrophe of the Black Hole in Calcutta, and lived to the advanced age of 99. Her father and brothers all served in India in the civil department, and held very high situations. Thus the families of De Lamartine and Birch, with all their branches, have belonged to the aristocracy of the two countries.

Immediately after the marriage of De Lamartine with Miss Birch, they set off to Naples, he having been ap pointed secretary to the embassy there. They then proceeded to Rome, to another diplomatic nomination; thence, for a short time, to London; and finally, to Florence, where he acted in the capacity of chargé d'affaires. In 1829 he left Florence to be appointed Minister in Greece, and then arrived those events of 1830, which once more changed the whole tenor of his life, since, from principle, he gave in his resignation, and has never since accepted any post under Government.

Apprehensive of a long and sanguinary revolution-disapproving, on the one hand, the ordinances of Charles X., and, on the other hand, the exclusion of the Duke de Bourdeaux from the throne of France-resolved on separating himself from political party agitation--convinced that his country had need of order and repose, and not of agitation and discussion-and above and before all things, anxious to visit the Holy Land, and to impregnate his very soul on the spot with those emotions which he wished to feel, and which he desired to cultivate-De