as it was, I felt surprised and puzzled, delighted and grieved, at the same time. My first residence in England was short. Years elapsed--circumstances were altered-still I felt a wish to see this country once more; at last I unexpectedly returned to it. If I have no longer, for this country, the headlong affection of a lover, I feel still, after repeated trials, the calmer but more lasting attachment of a friend. The transition, however, has not been easy, or unaccompanied by struggles. I felt at particular times ready to abjure my former sentiments, to cast them off as the offspring of boyish fancy and inexperience; I was disappointed,-sick at heart; but, thanks to my good genius, I discovered new merits by the side of those very failings which had destroyed my former illusions; my views became more extensive, and I felt, if not quite pleased, at least reconciled.

Foreigners are apt to accuse the English of coldness, selfishness, and pride. The first two charges I take to be false. The English have warm hearts, but little enthusiasm; their passions and their imagination are early trained into subjection. In a country of industry and activity, where comparative wealth is indispensable to keep up the appearance and character of a gentleman, a young man soon learns that the unchecked indulgence of his fancies and passions will lead him into extravagance, waste of time, and subsequent distress. Opinion is here all-powerful, and very rigid in its judgments; the character of a person once lost, every avenue to wealth or honour is shut to him. An idle man is disliked as much as a coward. In the streets of London, and other large towns, every body looks thoughtful and stirring; people run rather than walk. A man who happens to be unoccupied, and loitering about, is soon remarked, and stared at; he finds himself ill at ease; the busy crowd jostle him to the right or left; he is elbowed without ceremony; and he must, at last, effect his retreat. In Italy or France, a young man with a very small income may spend his time in doing nothing, and yet frequent good society and live agreeably. Thousands of young men of good families in your Italian cities live in utter idleness; and if they have but a civil address, tolerable looks, and no patches on their coats, they are liked, well received, and nobody finds fault with their mode of existence. But such a life cannot be led in England, except by a man of independent fortune, and of these there are some as idle as any of your Italian Contini and Marchesini; but, generally speaking, the number even of privileged idlers, is infinitely smaller than abroad.

Every thing beyond the mere absolute necessaries of life, is, in this country, enormously dear; and in addition to this,

the established habits of comfort and luxury lay you under many obligations which are unknown abroad. Lodgings, furniture, dress, are three or four times more expensive than with you; and without a proper attention to these, a man cannot expect to keep up his rank in society. Amusements, such as theatres, concerts, balls, excursions, &c., are dear in proportion. An income of a thousand pounds a-year, upon which I have known an Italian family live in a palace, and keep their carriage and livery servants, is here no more than sufficient for the comfortable though modest support of a genteel family of the middling class.

From all I have stated, it follows naturally that an Englishman must look forward to the possession of wealth as a great object of life, and restrain every propensity that might put an obstacle to its attainment. He acquires, therefore, habits of calculation, which give him that reserved and cold appearance that distinguishes him from the natives of other countries. But, as the character of man is never shaped by one single cause, other reasons contribute also to produce one common effect. The notions of decorum and propriety are very strict in England. Appearances of either bodily or mental uncleanliness are carefully shunned; the language is extremely guarded; even looks are subject to a sober discipline. In this the English ladies exert a most powerful, and, I think, a most beneficial influence. Theirs is not a prudish affectation, but a proper sense of the respect which is due to them. I have had several discussions on this subject with people here, and, although I know that virtue is often found in other countries, allied to considerable relaxation in manners, language, and appearance; yet I firmly believe that a strict attention to decency, even in trifles, is its most complete safeguard. This is more particularly true of this country, where a person who disregards public opinion soon loses the esteem of others, and consequently self-respect; the other steps to degradation are then very smooth and slippery. So far I have accounted to you, and I hope satisfactorily, for the supposed coldness and selfishness of which you have so often heard the English accused. I will now proceed to the third charge.

The trait of the English character which is least agreeable to foreigners, is that which Zimmermann has called national pride, but which I would rather define as national vanity; for I think the English are individually proud, but nationally vain. That eternal repetition of encomiums, many of them deserved, on their own country and institutions,-that scarce disguised contempt of foreigners in a mass, the absurd, and often indecent, manner in which the newspapers talk about foreign nations and states, wounding all our feelings of self-love and VOL. I. Part II.

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respect, treating us all as so many herds of slaves and beggars; all these, and similar notions, which are manifested daily and in a thousand ways, become at times really disgusting. A man does not like to be continually reminded of his inferiority; although he may feel willing to bow to superior merit, he likes to do it spontaneously, and not to be forced into it. It is this weak side of the English that has created them hosts of enemies on the continent. It is a lamentable instance of the system of moral compensation that this nation, so truly estimable and great, should, in this particular, be deficient in tact and liberality. I know that this prejudice is, in some degree, akin to a sentiment of patriotism, which has enabled this country to perform wonders; I know that the failing itself is not allied to any malignant feeling, and I willingly overlook it; but I can easily understand how, in other breasts, it has created sentiments of dislike, and even hatred. This affords, perhaps, an explanation of a singular phenomenon, which has often struck me both here and abroad, viz., the little attachment and gratitude that many foreigners feel for this country, even after they have been benefited by it. L'Angleterre n'a fait que des ingrats, is a saying that I have often heard repeated; and the truth of which I have been obliged to acknowledge with grief. Man cannot brook contempt; he could sometimes endure more easily the wounds inflicted on his own personal self-love, than tamely submit to hear the country of his birth under-rated and abused. As I have already observed, this disposition of the English to look down upon foreign nations is more national than personal, the very people who indulge most in it will show kindness to the individual stranger; but it sometimes happens that their kindness falls upon an ulcerated heart, and its milk turns to gall. There are, it is true, many Englishmen, who, by means of a liberal education, and by the experience acquired in their travels, have risen above this excessive national prejudice; yet, generally speaking, I am afraid that contempt for the rest of the world is but too much an habitual sentiment of this people. I have observed, and examined, and doubted; and yet I must come to this painful conclusion. You will ask me, how this sentiment is manifested? In different ways according to the difference of education and disposition. The lower classes show it often coarsely, and without disguise; the lower ranks of the middling class by their manner and looks; travellers and other writers by their journals and dissertations; and in persons of good breeding it often peeps out from under a veil of constrained politeness, very different from the manner in which they address one of their own countrymen.

An Englishman may be obviously vain of belonging to this

country, and yet very modest and unassuming with regard to his individual qualifications, circumstances, and rank. here is a mistake which foreigners are apt to fall into. The reserve of the English, which often proceeds from modesty and diffidence, is construed into supercilious pride. I have said that there is a fund of pride in the English character, quite distinct from their national vanity; but this individual pride is, generally speaking, a reasonable and not an offensive one; it is the natural dignity and self-respect of man; it is neither haughty nor overbearing; nay, it is often allied to diffidence. A young Englishman, accustomed to check, in the company of ladies, any ebullition of too great freedom or obstreperous mirth, is introduced abroad to society in which a tone of familiarity prevails, bordering upon what he considers as impropriety; he is silent, bashful, and perplexed,-they think him proud. He is unwilling to speak foreign languages, of which he believes he has attained but an imperfect knowledge and pronunciation; this is also ascribed to pride. The strongly marked gradations which exist in his country between the different classes, and which are the result of wealth and education, render him shy of new acquaintances; he finds himself abroad in parties where persons from almost every rank mix familiarly together; his aristocratic feelings (don't be surprised at the word, Giulio, for there is more aristocracy in England than in Italy, although better distributed) revolt against the contamination; in this he is perhaps proud, although in his own country his feelings would be no more than proper and just, because in unison with the rules of society and the established order of things. This is the way in which men misunderstand and misjudge each other.

And now, brighten up your countenance, for I pass on to a subject which should sound like music to your Italian ears. You naturally expect that I should tell you something about the ladies of this country. You know that I have ever been an enthusiastic admirer of female beauty, and, above all, of feminine grace. But there is a peculiar sort of female countenance, the sight of which has the power of rivetting my whole attention, of engrossing all my faculties, and on which I could gaze for hours together without growing tired, and without experiencing any other sensation but that of calm delight, and pure disinterested admiration. My taste in this particular is different from yours, and from that of most of our friends. It is not founded upon any peculiar style of countenance, any cast of features; but in a certain expression of the face, and of the whole person, which it is impossible for me to describe; I could only point to it and say, Ecce! It is not the full proud beauty we have admired together in the

southern regions of our Peninsula, conscious of her charms and sure of her power; nor the aërial romantic fair who seems to rise above the soil she treads upon; but the mild, pensive, kind daughter of earth, who neither commands nor repels admiration; whose looks show her to be a genuine woman, sharing in the excellencies and weaknesses of her sex. Countenances of this sort I have met with in the northern parts of Italy, and especially in Piedmont; I have encountered them under the arcades of Strada Po, and at the theatres of Turin. Some of my friends thought them plain and deficient in expression; they preferred the regular beauties of Rome and Naples: but I felt in looking at the eyes and mouths of the former as if I could hold dumb converse with them,—as if we understood one common language. Ma, you will say, a che proposito, all this rhapsody? Why, to tell you that I have met with more countenances of my favourite description in this country than in any other; that I have feasted my eyes upon them; that I could have followed the fair unknown beings for miles out of my way, by the mere power of attraction, and without any object in view, (you know this is a common practice with your idle Italian sparks,) but that I have learnt better manners since my return to England, and I am become almost as sedate and as sober-looking as any of the natives.

The English ladies are generally tall in their persons, and well proportioned; their figures are good, their complexions remarkably fine. All this you know, as you have seen numbers of them abroad; but what you don't know is, that although there is not among them a great proportion of what your connoisseurs call first-style beauties, yet I have hardly met with an ugly woman in England; and this to me is far more satisfactory than having to encounter the sight of fifty furies, for one single Venus, which is the case in the streets of Naples.

When I left the Continent I had my ears stunned with exclamations against the want of taste and grace of the English travelling females, and I had myself seen some specimens which seemed to warrant this reproach; yet since my arrival here I have quite abjured this prejudice. I find in the dress of English ladies' a most exquisite cleanliness and neatness, which is unparalleled in any other country; a display of costliness without profusion. The materials are the best of their kind; if there is any defect in their arrangement it is in the taste of the ornamental accessories, but in this also they have wonderfully improved of late, without adopting the gaudiness of the French. I am not sufficiently a connoisseur in these matters to enter into particulars, but I can tell you that almost every woman you see, even in the streets, is well