It is worthy of observation that in the most rational pages of that writer, who stepped forward as the defender of fixed morality, it is still not difficult to find traces of the spirit of the age in which he lived. This supposed change of our internal dispositions, according to the nature of the place which we inhabited, belonged secretly to the system of materialism; which Rousseau affected to combat. The soul was considered to be a sort of plant, subject to the variations of the atmosphere, and agitated or serene in conformity with this. But could Jean Jacques himself really believe in this salutary influence of the higher regions? Did not this unfortunate man himself carry with him his passions and his misery to the mountains of Switzerland?

There is only one situation, in which it is true that mountains inspire an oblivion of earthly troubles. This is when a man retires far from the world to employ his days in religious exercises. An anchorite, who devotes himself to the relief of human nature, or a holy hermit, who silently meditates on the omnipotence of God, may find peace and joy upon barren rocks; but it is not the tranquillity of the place which passes into the soul of the recluse; it is on the contrary, his soul, which diffuses serenity through the region of storms.

It has ever been an instinctive feeling of mankind to adore the Eternal on high places. The nearer we are to Heaven, the less distance there seems to be for our prayers to pass before they reach the throne of God. The patriarchs sacrificed on the mountains; and as if they had borrowed from their altars their idea of the Divinity, they called him the Most High. Traditions of this ancient mode of worship remained among Christian nations; whence our mountains, and in default of them our hills were covered with monasteries and abbeys. From the centre of a corrupt city, man, who was perhaps pro

ceeding to the commission of some crime, or who was at least in pursuit of some vanity, perceived, on raising his eyes, the altars upon the neighbouring heights. The cross, displaying at a distance the standard of poverty to the eyes of luxury, recalled to the rich ideas of affliction and commiseration. Our poets little understood their art, when they ridiculed these emblems of Mount Calvary, with the institutions and retreats, which bring to our recollection those of the East, the manners of the hermits of the Thebaid, the miracles of our divine religion, and the events of times, the antiquity of which is not effaced by that of Homer.

But this belongs to another class of ideas and sentiments, and bears no reference to the general question, which we are examining. After having censured mountains, it is only just to conclude by saying something in their favour. I have already observed that they are essential to a fine landscape, and that they ought to form the chain in the back ground of a picture. Their hoary heads, their lank sides, and gigantic members, though hideous when contemplated, are admirable when rounded by the vapour of the horizon, and coloured in a melting gilded light. Let us add too, if it be wished, that mountains are the source of rivers, the last asylum of liberty in times of despotism, as well as an useful barrier against invasion, and the evils of war. All I ask is that I may not be compelled to admire the long list of rocks, quagmires, crevices, holes, and contortions of the Alpine vallies. On this condition I will say there are mountains, which I should visit again with much pleasure-for instance those of Greece and Judea.*

* This letter was written prior to M. de Chateaubriand's recent Travels in the Holy Land.

RECOLLECTIONS

ENGLAND.

IF MAN were not attached, by a sublime instinct to his native country, his most natural condition in the world would be that of a traveller. A certain degree of restlessness is for ever urging him beyond his own limits. He wishes to see every thing, and is full of lamentations after he has seen every thing. I have traversed several regions of the globe, but I confess that I paid more attention to the deserts than to mankind, among whom, after all, I often experience solitude.

Isojourned only for a short period among the Germans, Spaniards, and Portuguese; but I lived a considerable time in England: and as the inhabitants of that kingdom constitute the only people who dispute the empire of the French, the least account of them becomes interesting.

*This was written at the time that all the continental powers of Europe had been conquered by the arms of Napoleon, and had acknowledged his title.

Erasmus is the most ancient traveller, with whom I am acquainted, that speaks of the English. He states that, during the reign of Henry VIII. he found London inhabited by barbarians, whose huts were full of smoke. A long time afterwards, Voltaire, wanting to discover a perfect philosopher, was of opinion that he had found this character among the Quakers upon the banks of the Thames. During his abode there the taverns were the places, at which the men of genius, and the friends of rational liberty assembled. England, however, is known to be the country, in which religion is less discussed, though more respected than in any other; and where the idle questions, by which the tranquillity of empires is disturbed, obtain less attention than any where else.

It appears to me that the secret of English manners, and their way of thinking is to be sought in the origin of this people. Being a mixture of French and German blood, they form a link of the chain by which the two nations are united. Their policy, their religion, their martial habits, their literature, arts, and national character appear to me a medium between the two. They seem to have united, in some degree, the brilliancy, grandeur, courage, and vivacity of the French with the simplicity, calmness, good sense, and bad taste of the Germans.

Inferior to us in some respects, they are superior in several others, particularly in every thing relative to commerce and wealth. They excel us also in neatness: and it is remarkable that a people, apparently of a heavy turn, should have, in their furniture, dress, and manufactures, an elegance in which we are deficient. It may be said of the English that they employ in the labours of the hand the delicacy, which we devote to those of the mind.

The principal failing of the English nation is pride: 3. which is, indeed the fault of all mankind. It prevails at