Chapter IX: Part 9

Foreseeing the fatigues and dangers of such a journey, he occupied a whole year in preparing himself to undertake it, by accustoming his body to the most violent exercises and the most painful privations. At length, all his preparatory arrangements being completed, he commenced his journey on foot, with a knapsack on his back, a musket on his shoulder, and two hundred and forty pounds in gold concealed in his girdle. “When I set out from Marseilles in 1783,” says he, “it was with all my heart; with that alacrity, that confidence in others and in myself which youth inspires. I gayly quitted a country of peace and abundance to live in a country of barbarism and misery, from no other motive than to employ the active and restless moments of youth, to acquire a new kind of knowledge, which might procure for the remainder of my days a certain portion of reputation and honour.”

On arriving in Egypt he proceeded to Cairo, where he remained during seven months; after which, finding that there existed too many obstacles to a proper examination of the interior parts of the country, and that too little assistance in learning Arabic was to be obtained, he determined on travelling into Syria. M. Durozoir, the author of the Life of Volney, in the “Biographie Universelle,” to which I am greatly indebted, falls into a most unaccountable error in narrating this part of our traveller’s career. According to him, Volney had no sooner arrived in Egypt than he shut himself up in a Coptic convent, where he remained _eight months_, for the purpose of acquiring the Arabic; after which he traversed the country with more advantages than any other traveller had hitherto enjoyed. Volney himself asserts, on the contrary, that he resided but _seven months_ in the country; that he was prevented by obstacles which appeared to him insurmountable from traversing more than a very small portion of Egypt; that he did not acquire a competent knowledge of Arabic until he arrived in Syria, where (and not in Egypt) he shut himself up during eight months in an Arabian convent, in order to render himself master of the language. M. Durozoir must have forgotten Pococke, and Shaw, and Hasselquist, and Niebuhr and Bruce, every one of whom were superior in external _advantages_ to Volney, and probably understood the language of the country better than he did previous to his residence in Syria. It is surprising, therefore, to find a writer of respectable name speaking of the advantages which Volney possessed over all preceding travellers in Egypt, arising from his long residence and knowledge, while most of his predecessors saw ten times more of the country, enjoyed greater privileges, and possessed a more intimate knowledge of Arabic. The real advantage which Volney actually did possess over the majority of Egyptian travellers consisted in his superior genius, which enabled him to turn his short experience to good account, and to comprehend the meanings of things which thousands had seen without comprehending at all.

The mode in which Volney has given the results of his travels to the public precludes the possibility of our following his track. He sedulously avoids, as Daru has justly remarked, placing himself upon the stage, and neither tells you by what route he travelled through the country, nor what were the impressions which the sight of certain objects produced upon his mind. The fact must be admitted, whether it make for or against the author; but when the count proceeds to inform us, in his inflated rhetorical style, that the traveller is suddenly transformed into a native of the country, who, after mature observation, describes its physical, political, and moral condition, we smile at his boyish enthusiasm.

I cannot help regretting, however, that our traveller should have omitted to trace his route through Egypt, not only because his having done so would have been advantageous to me, but from a persuasion that the omission has been seriously injurious to his popularity. It is, moreover, a very great error, and one in which I myself formerly participated, to imagine that a traveller is more likely to impart just notions of the scene of his researches by giving the results only of his experience, suppressing the manner in which that experience was obtained. An attentive examination of the works of travellers of all ages and countries has at length created a contrary conviction in my mind. In a judicious personal narrative the traveller is but one interlocutor in a drama exhibiting innumerable characters and a perpetually changing scene. You in some sort behold him surrounded by strangers in a strange land; you observe them not, and hear them, as it were, converse together; and if the traveller himself sometimes feigns or walks in masquerade, it is rarely that the natives can be supposed to have sufficiently powerful motives for so doing. They exhibit themselves exactly as they are. It would seem to follow from this view of the case, that whatever its advantages in other respects may be, the method adopted by Volney is liable, on the grounds above stated, to very serious objections. It not only shuts out the traveller from our view, but, in lieu of an animated picture, presents us with reasoning and discussion, able, I admit, and frequently original, but wanting that irresistible charm which is possessed in so eminent a degree by beautiful narrative.

Having examined such objects of curiosity in Lower Egypt as could easily be viewed, and collected ample materials for the defence of Herodotus, the greatest traveller of all antiquity, from the attacks of conceited and ignorant persons, Volney passed into Syria. “Here,” he observes, “eight months’ residence among the Druses, in an Arabian convent, rendered the Arabic familiar to me, and enabled me to travel through all Syria during a whole year.” His long residence in the mountains of Syria, during which he no doubt undertook numerous little excursions in various directions, furnished him with materials for a correct picture of the scene. This he has drawn with equal vigour and beauty. “Lebanon,” says he, “which gives its name to the whole extensive chain of the Kesraouan, and the country of the Druses, presents us everywhere with majestic mountains. At every step we meet with scenes in which nature displays either beauty or grandeur; sometimes singularity, but always variety. When we land on the coast, the loftiness and steep ascent of this mountainous ridge, which seems to enclose the country, those gigantic masses which shoot into the clouds, inspire astonishment and awe. Should the curious traveller then climb these summits which bound his view, the wide extended place which he discovers becomes a fresh subject of admiration; but completely to enjoy this majestic scene, he must ascend the very point of Lebanon, or the Sannia. There on every side he will view a horizon without bounds; while in clear weather the sight is lost over the desert, which extends to the Persian Gulf, and over the sea, which bathes the coasts of Europe. He seems to command the whole world, while the wandering eye, now surveying the successive chains of mountains, transports the imagination in an instant from Antioch to Jerusalem, and now approaching the surrounding objects, observes the distant profundity of the coast, till the attention, at length, fixed by distinctive objects, more minutely examines the rocks, woods, torrents, hillsides, villages, and towns; and the mind secretly exults at the diminution of things which before appeared so great. He contemplates the valley obscured by stormy clouds with a novel delight; and smiles at hearing the thunder, which had so often burst over his head, growling under his feet, while the threatening summits of the mountains are diminished till they appear only like the furrows of a ploughed field, or the steps of an amphitheatre; and he feels himself flattered by an elevation above so many great objects on which pride makes him look down with a secret satisfaction. When the traveller visits the interior parts of these mountains, the ruggedness of the roads, the steepness of the descents, the height of the precipices, strike him at first with terror, but the sagacity of his mule soon relieves him, and he examines at his ease those picturesque scenes which succeed each other to entertain him. There, as in the Alps, he travels whole days to reach a place that was in sight at his departure: he winds, he descends, he skirts the hills, he climbs; and in this perpetual change of position it seems as if some magic power varied for him at every step the decorations of the scenery. Sometimes he sees villages ready to glide from the steep declivities on which they are built, and so disposed, that the terraces of one row of houses serve as a street to the row above them. Sometimes he sees a convent standing on a solitary eminence, like Mar-shaya in the valley of the Tigris. Here is a rock perforated by a torrent, and become a natural arch, like that of Nahr-el-Leben. There another rock, worn perpendicular, resembles a lofty wall.”

The same difficulty of tracing the footsteps of our traveller of which I complained when speaking of his Egyptian journey occurs again in Syria. It is, in fact, impossible to discover from his works any particulars, excepting a few dates, which are perfectly unimportant. After a protracted residence at the convent of Mar-hanna, or “St. John,” where, as already observed, he matured his knowledge of Arabic, he descended into the lower districts, and visited a Bedouin camp, near Gaza, where he remained several days. I know not whether it was upon this or on some other occasion that he so far recommended himself to the chief of a tribe by his agreeable manners, as to inspire in the Arabs a desire to retain him among them. Having remarked that the Bedouins enjoy an extraordinary freedom from religious prejudices, and are consequently disposed to be tolerant, he adds, “Nothing can better describe, or be a more satisfactory proof of this, than a dialogue which one day passed between myself and one of their sheïkhs, named Ahmed, son of Bahir, chief of the tribe of Wahidia. ‘Why,’ said this sheïkh to me, ‘do you wish to return among the Franks? Since you have no aversion to our manners, since you know how to use the lance and manage a horse like a Bedouin, stay among us. We will give you pelisses, a tent, a virtuous and young Bedouin girl, and a good blood mare. You shall live in our house.’--‘But do you not know,’ said I, ‘that, born among the Franks, I have been educated in their religion? In what light will the Arabs view an infidel, or what will they think of an apostate?’--‘And do you not yourself perceive,’ said he, ‘that the Arabs live without troubling themselves either about the prophet, or the _Book_ (the Koran)? Every man with us follows the dictates of his conscience. Men have a right to judge of actions, but religion must be left to God alone.’ Another sheïkh, conversing with me one day, addressed me, by mistake, in the customary formulary, ‘Listen, and pray for the prophet.’ Instead of the usual answer, _I have prayed_, I replied with a smile, ‘_I listen_.’ He recollected his error, and smiled in his turn. A Turk of Jerusalem who was present took the matter up more seriously: ‘O sheïkh,’ said he, ‘how canst thou address the words of the true believers to an infidel?’--‘The tongue is _light_;’ replied the sheïkh, ‘let but the heart be _white_ (pure); but you who know the customs of the Arabs, how can you offend a stranger, with whom we have eaten bread and salt?’ Then, turning to me, ‘All those tribes of Frankestan, of whom you told me that they follow not the law of the prophet, are they more numerous than the Mussulmans?’--‘It is thought,’ answered I, ‘that they are five or six times more numerous, even including the Arabs.’--‘God is just,’ returned he; ‘he will weigh them in his balance.’”

The most singular people, however, who came under the observation of Volney during his eastern travels, were unquestionably the Druses. Extraordinary stories respecting their origin and manners had from time to time prevailed in Europe. By some they were supposed to be the descendants of the crusaders, particularly of the English; others attributed to them a different origin; but all agreed in accusing them of believing in strange absurd dogmas, and of practising monstrous rites. At length he obtained from oriental writers the following account of the rise of this remarkable sect. In the year of the Hegira 386 (A. D. 996) the third calif of the race of the Fatimites, called Hakem-b’amr-ellah, succeeded to the throne of Egypt, at the age of eleven years. He was one of the most extraordinary princes of whom history has preserved the memory. He caused the first calif, the companion of Mahomet, to be cursed in the mosques, and afterward revoked the anathema. He compelled the Jews and Christians to abjure their religion, and then permitted them to resume it. He prohibited the making slippers for women, to prevent their coming out of their houses. He burnt one-half of the city of Cairo for his diversion, while his soldiers pillaged the other. Not content with these extravagant actions, he forbade the pilgrimage to Mecca, fasting, and the five prayers; and at length carried his madness so far, as to desire to pass for God himself. He ordered a register of those who acknowledged him to be so; and the number amounted to sixteen thousand. This impious pretension was supported by a false prophet, who came from Persia into Egypt; which impostor, named Mohammed-ben-Ismael, taught that it was not necessary to fast or pray, to practise circumcision, to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, or observe festivals; that the prohibition of pork and wine was absurd; and that marriage between brothers and sisters, fathers and children, was lawful. To ingratiate himself with Hakem, he maintained that this calif was God himself incarnate, and instead of his name being _Hakem-b’amr-ellah_, which signifies governing by the order of God, he called him _Hakem-b’amr-eh_, governing by his own order. Unluckily for the prophet, his god had not the power to protect him from the fury of his enemies, who slew him in a tumult, almost in the arms of the calif, who was himself massacred soon after on Mount Mokattam, where he, as he said, had held conversation with angels. The death of these two chiefs did not prevent the progress of their opinions: a disciple of Mohammed-ben-Ismael, named Hamzaben-Ahmud, propagated them with indefatigable zeal, in Egypt, in Palestine, and along the coast of Syria, as far as Sidon and Berytus. His proselytes, it seems, underwent the same fate as the Maronites; for being persecuted by the sect in power, they took refuge in the mountains of Lebanon, where they were better able to defend themselves; at least it is certain, that shortly after this era we find them established there, and forming an independent society like their neighbours.

In the opinion of Volney the great body of the Druses are wholly destitute of religion; “yet,” says he, “one class of them must be excepted, whose religious customs are very peculiar. Those who compose it are to the rest of the nation what the _initiated_ are to the _profane_; they assume the name of Okkals, which means spiritualists; and bestow on the vulgar the epithet Djahel, or ignorant; they have various degrees of initiation, the highest orders of which require celibacy. These are distinguishable by the white turban they affect to wear, as a symbol of their purity; and so proud are they of this supposed purity, that they think themselves sullied by even touching a profane person. If you eat out of their plate, or drink out of their cup, they break them; and hence the custom so general in this country, of using vases with a sort of cock, which may be drunk out of without touching the lips. All their practices are enveloped in mysteries. Their oratories always stand alone, and are constantly situated on eminences: in these they hold their secret assemblies, to which women are admitted. It is pretended they perform ceremonies there in presence of a small statue resembling an ox or a calf; whence some have pretended to prove that they are descended from the Samaritans. But, besides that the fact is not well ascertained, the worship of the ox may be deduced from other circumstances.

“They have one or two books which they conceal with the greatest care, but chance has deceived their jealousy; for, in a civil war, which happened six or seven years ago, the Emir Yousef, who is _Djahel_, or ignorant, found one among the pillage of their oratories. I am assured by persons who have read it, that it contains only a mystic jargon, the obscurity of which doubtless renders it valuable to adepts. Hakem-b’amr-ellah is there spoken of, by whom they mean God, incarnated in the person of the calif. It likewise treats of another life, of a place of punishment and a place of happiness, where the Okkals shall of course be most distinguished. Several degrees of perfection are mentioned, to which they arrive by successive trials. In other respects these sectaries have all the insolence and all the fears of superstition: they are not communicative, because they are weak; but it is probable that, were they powerful, they would be promulgators and intolerant.”

On returning to France after an absence of nearly three years (which M. Durozoir, who loves to differ with the traveller upon such points, will have to be nearly _four years_), Volney employed himself in preparing his “Travels” for the press. Upon the appearance of the work the public, which is seldom in the wrong in such matters, received it as a masterpiece of its kind; and from that time to the present its reputation may be said to be on the increase. I am averse from adopting the unmeaning or exaggerated panegyrics of his French biographers, who are satisfied with nothing short of regarding Volney as the continuator of Herodotus, with whom they seem to consider him upon a par. No person can be more desirous than myself to enhance the just praises of Volney, who has exhibited, in his description of Syria and Egypt, remarkable force and depth of thinking, and powers of delineation of no ordinary class. But in Herodotus we have a picture of the whole world, as far, at least, as it was known in his time, sketched with inimitable truth and brevity, and adorned with a splendour of colouring which with matchless skill he has known how to unite with the severest accuracy. To many of the excellences of this writer Volney has no pretensions. Others he may have possessed in an equal degree; but I will not continue a comparison in itself absurd, never dreamed of by the traveller himself, and which could only have suggested itself to writers blinded by national vanity.

To proceed, however, with the events of our traveller’s life. No sooner had the travels appeared, than the Empress Catherine II., who, besides her desire to wheedle every writer of distinction in Europe, was really actuated by an admiration for genius, sent him a gold medal in token of her satisfaction. This was in the year 1787. In the following year he published his “Considerations on the War between the Turks and Russians.” In this political pamphlet the knowledge which he had acquired in his travels was of course the basis of his reasoning; but he had likewise received, perhaps from the Russian court, information which would appear to have been correct, respecting the resources of the Scythians; for events, says his French biographer with a kind of triumph, have realized nearly all his predictions. He did not, continues the same writer, forget, in the consideration of this great quarrel, the interests of France, and dwelt more particularly on the project of seizing upon Egypt, in order to counterbalance the aggrandizement of Russia and Austria. But to the execution of this project he foresaw numerous obstacles. “In the first place,” said he, “it will be necessary to maintain three separate wars: the first against Turkey, the second against the English, and a third against the natives of Egypt, which, though apparently the least formidable, will be the most dangerous of the three. Should the Franks venture to disembark in the country, Turks, Arabs, and peasants would all arm against them at once: and fanaticism would serve them instead of art and courage.”

From the period of his return into his country, being actuated by the desire of being useful, which seems to have been ever predominant in his mind, though it did not always manifest itself in a rational way, Volney conceived the idea of introducing improvements in agriculture in the island of Corsica. For this purpose he began to concert measures for purchasing an estate in that island, on which he meant to make several experiments in the culture of the sugar-cane, cotton, indigo, coffee, &c. The utility of these schemes induced the French government to nominate him Director of Agriculture and Commerce in Corsica; but other duties retained him in his country. Upon the convocation of the States General in 1789, he was elected deputy for the seneschalship of Anjou. Shortly after this he resigned the place he held under government, being persuaded that the duties of a representative of the people, and those of a dependant on the government, are incompatible. In the tribune of the Constituent Assembly Volney advocated the same opinions which are found in his writings. He was the declared enemy of despotism, whether exercised by one individual or by many; and constantly distinguished himself by his bold and liberal advocacy of popular rights. His intimate connexion with Cabanis, celebrated for the extravagance of his metaphysical opinions, frequently brought him into contact with Mirabeau, the Catiline of the revolution. This able improvisator, equally indifferent respecting the _meum_ and _tuum_ in ideas as in money, in a discussion concerning the clergy, borrowed from Volney his well-known rhetorical flourish _on the window of Charles IX._, from whence that gracious monarch amused himself with shooting at his subjects. Twenty deputies were besieging the tribune, and among these was Volney, who held a written discourse in his hand. “Show me what you are going to say,” said Mirabeau. “This is beautiful, sublime,” he exclaimed, after having glanced over the manuscript; “but it is not with a feeble voice and a clear countenance that such things should be uttered. Give the manuscript to me!” Such consummate arrogance was not to be resisted. Volney yielded up his speech to the audacious sophist, who, melting up our traveller’s original ideas with his own, poured out the whole with that artificial theatrical enthusiasm which produces upon inexperienced minds nearly the same effects as eloquence. It is said that Volney ere long began to perceive that the storm which had been raised with so much labour and artifice was likely to sweep away in its fury much more than was intended; and that he then began to think of moderating its rage. But if he was in earnest in his opposition, he very quickly had the mortification to discover that his efforts were futile; that revolution had, in fact, become a general movement, which bore down with irresistible violence every obstacle which might be opposed to it, whether by friends or foes.

In the midst of these political labours Volney found time to produce two works of very different character and pretensions: “The Chronology of the Twelve Centuries preceding the Invasion of Greece by Xerxes,” and his well-known rhapsody called the “Ruins.” Shortly after this, the Empress Catherine, who found that she had been made the dupe of the French sophists, declared herself the enemy of France; upon which Volney, eager to display his contempt for his fickle admirer, returned the medal which she had formerly presented to him. Upon this, Grimm, the literary gladiator of the empress, and up to that moment the friend of Volney, addressed him a letter filled with the most biting sarcasms and unjust personalities, but written in so keen a style that it has been attributed to Rivarol, another clever advocate of ancient abuses.

In 1792 Volney accompanied Pozzo di Borgo to Corsica, with his old design of making agricultural experiments. He accordingly purchased the estate of La Confina, near Ajaccio, and was proceeding to realize some of his useful plans, when he was driven from the island by the troubles excited by Pascal Paoli, who sold his estate by auction, notwithstanding that he had recently given him various assurances of friendship. During his residence in Corsica our traveller became acquainted with Napoleon, who was at that time only an officer of artillery. He is said to have divined the character of this ambitious man from the first; and some years later, upon learning in America that Napoleon had been appointed commander of the army of Italy, he remarked to several French refugees, “Provided that circumstances second him, he will be found to possess the head of Cæsar on the shoulders of Alexander.” This oracular saying, which is by no means the best thing of the kind attributed to our traveller, is remarkable merely for the pomposity of the expression, and signifies little or nothing, except that Napoleon was as able as he was ambitious. On his return to France, in 1793, he published a “Sketch of the State of Corsica,” and the “Law of Nature,” the latter of which M. Durozoir, with characteristic exaggeration, pronounces to be “one of the best treatises on morals which have ever been published in any language.” The “Law of Nature” is well known in England, and proves its writer to have been a man of an acute and vigorous mind, as well as an accomplished master of style; but it would be paying Volney an absurd compliment to place his little catechism, in which there are no ideas absolutely new, on a level with the “Ethics to Nichomachus,” or the great work of Panætius, of which we may form a tolerably clear conception from the “De Officiis” of Cicero, which is little more than a copy of it. Moreover, in the “Law of Nature,” man is considered too much in a material, and too little in a spiritual light; which, though it may be a merit in the eyes of such a writer as M. Durozoir, must to a person of a different creed appear to be a very remarkable defect. Considering the question merely in a philosophical point of view, it can, I think, admit of no dispute that the incentives to good actions can never be too numerous; but Volney, from his peculiar notions, could only speak of morals as of physical science, which, taken as a whole, it certainly is not. Whatever merit this little tract may possess, therefore, it seems to be essentially defective in attributing to one set of principles effects which they never produce unless in combination with others.

In 1793 our traveller, whose political opinions were purely republican, was imprisoned ten months as a _royalist_, and only recovered his liberty after the events of the 9th of Thermidor. To console him in some degree for this injustice, he was shortly afterward appointed historical professor in the Normal School, which had just then been established by the friends of order and of their country. Volney was eminently well qualified to shine in this capacity. His reading, which was immense, had lain much, if not chiefly, among historical writers; and his calm, penetrating genius enabled him to discover with extraordinary precision the natural chain of events. Nevertheless, from a passion for vain paradox, which has of late been but too common both in France and Germany among persons who would be thought to be philosophers, he unfortunately exhibited in his historical researches a degree of skepticism highly absurd. He had perhaps read and admired the startling proposition of Aristotle, that doubt is the foundation of all science; but if doubt eternally generate doubt, upon what basis are the sciences to be erected? The Greek philosopher, I conceive, merely intends to say, that without doubt there can be no inquiry, and without inquiry no science. However, notwithstanding this radical defect, Volney’s lectures at the Normal School were received with applause, principally perhaps from the striking originality of the author’s style, and the novelty of his views. Truths long and familiarly known, appear to lose their beauty, and are eagerly exchanged for errors, tricked out in all the dazzling gloss of novelty.

His oratorical career was not of long duration. The Normal School was quickly suppressed; and Volney, disgusted and fatigued with fruitless endeavours to benefit his country, determined on deserting it for ever, and seeking in the New World that tranquillity which he had failed to find in the Old. On his arrival in the United States of America, in 1795, he was well received by Washington, who gave him many public marks of his confidence and friendship. It is said, however, though I know not upon what grounds, that John Adams, elected president in 1797, entertained feelings highly inimical to Volney, who, a short time before, had criticised severely, perhaps unjustly, his “Defence of the Constitutions of the United States.” It is even insinuated by Durozoir, whose unsupported testimony I should, however, refuse to accept in a matter of this kind, that our traveller was driven from America by the unmanly revenge of John Adams in the spring of 1798. Be this as it may, he was suspected by the Americans of being engaged in a conspiracy for delivering up Louisiana to the Directory; while in France, on the other hand, he was accused of having asserted that Louisiana could never become an advantageous possession of the French republic. While his mind was thus harassed by contradictory and absurd suspicions, Dr. Priestley published his “Observations on the Progress of Infidelity,” &c., in which Volney, says Durozoir, who probably had no more read Priestley’s pamphlet than I have, was denounced as an “atheist, an ignoramus, a Chinese, and a Hottentot.” Priestley was no doubt a rough polemic, too much addicted, perhaps, to hard names; but the work which he denounced had, in many respects, a highly mischievous tendency, and in refuting it some degree of warmth was pardonable.

On our traveller’s return to France, where he had been elected a member of the Institute during his absence, he became once more intimately connected with Napoleon, whom, in 1794, he had dissuaded from seeking military employment in Turkey or Russia, and by his influence caused to be restored to his rank in the army. Napoleon was not ungrateful, and when elected to the consulate was desirous of naming Volney his colleague. This dignity, however, the traveller refused, as well as that of minister of the interior, which was soon afterward offered him. He was content with the mere rank of senator. When at a future period Napoleon was about to assume the title of emperor, Volney ventured to oppose him, observing that _it were better to restore the Bourbons_. From this time forward he was invariably found among that small minority in the senate who condemned and opposed the despotic measures of the emperor; yet he allowed himself to be decorated with the rank of count, and the title of commandant of the Legion of Honour. Still he took little share in political matters, preferring before all distinctions retirement and study.

In 1803 appeared his “Description of the Climate and Soil of the United States,” a work possessing, no doubt, considerable merit, but which has been far from obtaining equal success with his “Eastern Travels.” He now resumed his chronological studies, which had been for some time interrupted. In these he gave vent to all his heterodox opinions, which it could answer no good purpose either to retail or refute in this place. Others, more deeply versed than I in the chronology of the world, have performed this task; which was not, however, extremely necessary, as Volney’s labours on this subject seem designed never to acquire popularity. In 1810 he married Mademoiselle Chassebœuf, his cousin, for whose amusement he purchased a large mansion, with extensive gardens, &c., in the Rue Vaugirard. Here he lived in a kind of morose and misanthropic retirement, heightened, if not caused, by his gloomy and unhappy opinions; and here he died, on the 25th of April, 1820, in the sixty-third year of his age.

EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE.

Born 1769.--Died 1822.

Edward Daniel Clarke was born on the 5th of June, 1769, at Willingdon, in the county of Sussex. Even when a child he is said to have displayed great narrative powers, which he exercised as frequently as possible for the amusement of his father’s domestics and parishioners. In his boyish studies, however, he was wanting in application; a fault arising from the quickness and vivacity of his mind, actuated by insatiable curiosity, and characterized from the beginning by a decided partiality for natural history. Still, the loss sustained by this species of negligence he afterward severely felt, when, notwithstanding the habits of industry which he acquired at a later period of youth, it was found impossible by any degree of exertion to retrieve the moments misspent or wasted in boyhood. At the same time there was one advantage derived from his unstudious inclinations; they urged him to be much abroad in the open air, where he amused himself with running, leaping, and swimming, in which last accomplishment he was particularly skilled, and on one occasion had the satisfaction of saving by this means the life of his younger brother, who was seized by the cramp while bathing in the moat which surrounded his father’s house.

In the spring of 1786, through the kindness of Dr. Beadon, afterward Bishop of Bath and Wells, Clarke obtained the office of chapel clerk at Jesus College, Cambridge, whither he removed about the Easter of the above year. Next year he sustained the heavy calamity to lose a pious, beneficent, affectionate father, by which misfortune, young and inexperienced as he was, without a profession, and with few prospects of advancement, he was entirely thrown upon his own resources, his remaining parent not possessing the means of aiding him with aught beyond her prayers. Fortunately his deceased father had, instead of wealth, bequeathed to his family a more valuable inheritance; a name revered for sanctity, and a number of noble-minded friends, who not only provided for the immediate necessities of its several members, but continued to watch over their progress, and on many important occasions to advance their interests in after-life. Nevertheless, Clarke had to contend with numerous difficulties. “Soon after the death of their father,” says Mr. Otter, “the two elder sons returned to college; and Edward, having now acquired a melancholy title to one of the scholarships of the society of Jesus College, founded by Sir Tobias Rustat, for the benefit of clergymen’s orphans, was elected a scholar on this foundation immediately upon his return. The emoluments of his scholarship, joined to those of an exhibition from Tunbridge school, and the profits of his chapel clerk’s place, amounting in the whole to less than 90_l._ a year, were his principal, indeed it is believed his only resources during his residence at college; and, however well they may have been husbanded, it must be evident that, even in those times of comparative moderation in expense, they could not have been sufficient for his support, especially when it is understood that he was naturally liberal to a fault. It does not appear, however, that he derived during this time any pecuniary assistance from his father’s friends; and as there is the strongest reason to believe that he faithfully adhered to the promise he had made to his mother, that he would never draw upon her slender resources for his support, it may excite some curiosity to know by what means the deficiency was supplied. The fact is, that he was materially assisted in providing for his college expenses by the liberality of his tutor, Mr. Plampin, who, being acquainted with his circumstances, suffered his bills to remain in arrear; and they were afterward discharged from the first profits he derived from his private pupils.”

The indolent inactivity which had marked his school studies did not desert him at college. He seems, in fact, to have been disgusted with the system of education pursued at Cambridge, caring nothing for mathematics, which were there regarded as all in all, and finding among the other mental pursuits of the place nothing whatever to kindle the ardour of his ambitious mind. Still the desire of fame, without which man never performed any thing great, began gradually to manifest itself in his character both to himself and others. Exceedingly uncertain as to the mode, he yet determined to acquire in one way or another a reputation in literature; and while many of those around him were descanting complacently upon his failings, and the consequent backwardness of his acquirements, he silently felt the sting which was so soon to goad him on to a destiny more brilliant than his compassionate comrades ever dreamed of. His favourite studies, however, such as they were, he seems to have pursued with considerable eagerness; and by degrees his taste, after wavering for some time, settled definitively on literature.

In the spring of 1790 Clarke obtained, through the recommendation of Dr. Beadon, then Bishop of Gloucester, the office of private tutor to the honourable Henry Tufton, nephew to the Duke of Dorset. The place selected for his residence with his pupil, says Mr. Otter, was a large house belonging to Lord Thanet, inhabited at that time only by one or two servants, situated in a wild and secluded part of the county of Kent, and cut off, as well by distance as bad roads, from all cheerful and improving society; a residence suitable enough to a nobleman with a large establishment and a wide circle of friends, but the last place, one would have thought, to improve and polish a young man of family just entering into active life. His pupil, moreover, had conceived a dislike for study and for tutors of every kind, which promised to enhance the tedium of a life spent in such a scene. But Clarke, who probably sympathized with the young man’s aversion from intellectual task-work, very quickly succeeded by his gay, lively, insinuating manners in winning his confidence, and, apparently, in convincing him that a certain degree of knowledge might be useful, even to a man of his rank. This agreeable result, which seems to have been somewhat unexpected, so raised our incipient traveller in the estimation of the Duke of Dorset, that the engagement, which appears to have been at first for nine months only, was prolonged another year, the latter part of which was occupied in making with his pupil the tour of Great Britain. Of these domestic travels he on his return published the history; but the performance appears to have been hastily and slovenly written, and, as has been the fate of many other youthful works, to have been severely judged by the mature author, jealous of his fame, and averse from exhibiting to the public the nakedness of his unformed mind.

Shortly after the conclusion of this tour he accompanied his pupil in a little excursion to Calais, when he enjoyed the satisfaction, which none but a traveller can appreciate, of treading for the first time on foreign ground. In 1792 he was fortunate enough to obtain an engagement to travel with Lord Berwick, whom he had known at college, and in the autumn of that year set out in company with that young nobleman, through Germany and Switzerland into Italy. He was now in the position for which nature had originally designed him. “An unbounded love of travel,” says he, “influenced me at a very early period of my life. It was conceived in infancy, and I shall carry it with me to the grave. When I reflect upon the speculations of my youth, I am at a loss to account for a passion which, predominating over every motive of interest and every tie of affection, urges me to press forward and to pursue inquiry, even in the bosoms of the ocean and the desert. Sometimes, in the dreams of fancy, I am weak enough to imagine that the map of the world was painted in the awning of my cradle, and that my nurse chanted the wanderings of pilgrims in her legendary lullabies.” This was the spirit which urged the Marco Polos, the Chardins, and the Bruces to undertake their illustrious journeys; and if Clarke was compelled by circumstances to confine his researches to less remote and better known countries, he exhibited in his rambles through these a kindred enthusiasm, and similar devotion and energy.

Clarke and his companion having passed the Alps, which, however frequently seen, still maintain their rank among the most sublime objects in nature, descended into Italy, visited Turin and Rome, and then proceeded to Naples, in which city and its environs they remained nearly two years. In the summer of 1793 there was, as is well known, an eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which our traveller, now an inhabitant of Naples, enjoyed ample opportunities of visiting. And here a striking manifestation of the daring intrepidity of the English occurred: for not only Clarke himself, part of whose business as a traveller it was to familiarize himself with danger, but numbers of other English gentlemen, and even ladies, ascended to the mouth of the burning crater and the sources of lava-streams in an active state for mere amusement; where, on one occasion, a lady narrowly escaped death from a large stone from the volcano, which flew by her like a wheel. At another time the whole party were menaced with the fate of the elder Pliny. It was in the month of February. “I found the crater in a very active state,” says Clarke, “throwing out volleys of immense stones transparent with vitrification, and such showers of ashes involved in thick sulphurous clouds as rendered any approach to it extremely dangerous. We ascended as near as possible, and then crossing over to the lava attempted to coast it up to its source. This we soon found was impossible, for an unfortunate wind blew all the smoke of the lava hot upon us, attended at the same time with such a thick mist of minute ashes from the crater, and such fumes of sulphur, that we were in danger of being suffocated. In this perplexity I had recourse to an expedient recommended by Sir W. Hamilton, and proposed immediately crossing the current of liquid lava to gain the windward side of it; but felt some fears, owing to the very liquid appearance the lava there had so near its source. All my companions were against the scheme, and while we stood deliberating, immense fragments of stone and huge volcanic bombs that had been cast out by the crater, but which the smoke had prevented us from observing, fell thick about us, and rolled by with a velocity that would have crushed any of us, had we been in the way. I found we must either leave our present spot, or expect instant death; therefore, covering my face with my hat, I rushed upon the lava and crossed over safely to the other side, having my boots only a little burnt and my hands scorched. Not one of my companions, however, would stir, nor could any persuasion of mine avail in getting a single guide over to me. I then saw clearly the whole of the scene, and expected my friends would every moment be sacrificed to their own imprudence and want of courage, as the stones from the crater fell continually around them, and vast rocks of lava bounded by them with great force. At last I had the satisfaction of seeing them retire, leaving me entirely alone. I begged hard for a torch to be thrown over to me, that I might not be lost when the night came on. It was then that André, one of the ciceroni of Resina, after being promised a bribe, ran over to me, and brought with him a bottle of wine and a torch. We had coasted the lava, ascending for some time, when looking back I perceived my companions endeavouring to cross the lava lower down, where the stream was narrower. In doing this they found themselves insulated, as it were, and surrounded by two different rivers of liquid fire. They immediately pressed forward, being terribly scorched by both currents, and ran to the side where I was; in doing which one of the guides fell into the middle of the red-hot lava, but met with no other injury than having his hands and face burnt, and losing at the same time a bottle of vin de grave, which was broken in the fall, and which proved a very unpleasant loss to us, being ready to faint with excessive thirst, fatigue, and heat. Having once more rallied my forces, I proceeded on, and in about half an hour I gained the chasm through which the lava had opened itself a passage out of the mountain. To describe this sight is utterly beyond all human ability. My companions, who were with me then, shared in the astonishment it produced; and the sensations they felt in concert with me were such as can be obliterated only with our lives. All I had seen of volcanic phenomena before did not lead me to expect such a spectacle as I then beheld. I had seen the vast rivers of lava which descended into the plains below, and carried ruin and devastation with them; but they resembled a vast heap of cinders on the scoriæ of an iron foundry, rolling slowly along, and falling with a rattling noise over one another. Here a vast arched chasm presented itself in the side of the mountain, from which rushed with the velocity of a flood the clear vivid torrent of lava in perfect fusion, and totally unconnected with any other matter that was not in a state of complete solution, unattended by any scoriæ on its surface, or gross materials of an insolvent nature; but flowing with the translucency of honey, in regular channels cut finer than art can imitate, and glowing with all the splendour of the sun.”

In the July of the same year our traveller viewed Vesuvius under another aspect, when soft, tranquil beauty had succeeded to terrific sublimity. “While we were at tea in the Albergo Reale,” says he, “such a scene presented itself as every one agreed was beyond any thing of that kind they had ever seen before. It was caused by the moon, which suddenly rose behind the convent on Vesuvius; at first a small bright line silvering all the clouds, and then a full orb which threw a blaze of light across the sea, through which the vessels passed and re-passed in a most beautiful manner. At the same time the lava, of a different hue, spread its warm tint upon all the objects near it, and threw a red line across the bay, directly parallel to the reflection of the moon’s rays. It was one of those scenes which one dwells upon with regret, because one feels the impossibility of retaining the impression it affords. It remains in the memory, but then all its outlines and its colours are so faintly touched, that the beauty of the spectacle fades away with the landscape; which, when covered by the clouds of the night, and veiled in darkness, can never be revived by the pencil, the pen, or by any recourse to the traces it has left upon the mind.”

In the autumn of 1793 Clarke received from Lord Berwick a proposal that he should accompany him to Egypt and the Holy Land, with which our traveller, whose secret wishes had long pointed that way, immediately closed. While preparations were making for the journey, Lord Berwick suddenly recollected that some living, to which he was to present his brother, might fall vacant during his absence, and be lost to his family. He determined, therefore, on sending an express to England; and when he had hired his courier, Clarke, who perhaps felt the want of violent exercise, offered to accompany the man, that no time might be lost. He accordingly set out for England, and having remained two or three days in London to execute the commission with which he had been intrusted, he hurried down to Shropshire, and arranged the business which had brought him to England. This being accomplished, he returned to London, where, to his infinite surprise and mortification, he found a letter from Lord Berwick, informing him that the expedition to Egypt had been postponed or abandoned. His engagement with this nobleman, however, had not yet expired. He therefore, after a short stay in England, hastened back to Italy, from whence he finally returned in the summer of 1794.

Clarke now spent some time with his mother and family at Uckfield, and in the autumn of the same year undertook, at the recommendation of the Bishop of St. Asaph, the care of Sir Thomas Mostyn, a youth of about seventeen. This engagement continued about a year, during which period he resided with his pupil in Wales, where he became known to Pennant, with whom he afterward maintained a correspondence. When this connexion had, from some unexplained causes, ceased to exist, our traveller undertook a small periodical work called “Le Rêveur,” which, when twenty-nine numbers had been published without success, was judiciously discontinued, and sunk so completely into oblivion that not a single copy, it is believed, could now be found.

In the autumn of 1796 Clarke entered into an engagement with the family of Lord Uxbridge, which, under whatever auspices begun, was highly beneficial to himself and satisfactory to his employers. The youth first placed under his care, delicate and feeble in constitution, soon fell a prey to disease; but the next youngest son of the family, the honourable Berkeley Paget, succeeded his brother; and with him, in the summer and autumn of 1797, our traveller made the tour of Scotland. This was in every respect an agreeable and fortunate journey for our traveller, who not only enjoyed the scenery, wild, varied, and beautiful, which the north of England and many parts of Scotland afford, but secured in his pupil a powerful friend, who, so long as our traveller lived, promoted his interests, and when his life had closed, continued the same benevolent regard to his family.

On the termination of his connexion with Mr. Paget, who was now sent to Oxford, Clarke retired to Uckfield, where, for a time, he seemed entirely immersed in the pleasures of field-sports. His devotion to this species of amusement, however, was destined to be of short duration. A young gentleman of Sussex, whose education had been very much neglected, succeeded about this time to a considerable estate, upon which he intimated his desire of placing himself for three years under the guidance and instruction of our traveller, first at Cambridge, and afterward during a long and extensive tour upon the Continent. The pecuniary part of the proposal was very liberal, says Mr. Otter, and the plan was entered upon without delay. The traveller and his pupil remained a whole year at Cambridge, during which the former, who fully understood the advantages of knowledge, and had been hitherto prevented by his wandering life from pursuing any regular course of study, profited quite as much as the latter.

The preliminary portion of their studies being over, Clarke and his pupil began to prepare for their travels. Two other individuals were at first associated with them, Professor Malthus, author of the celebrated treatise on population, and the Rev. Mr. Otter, afterward the biographer of our traveller. The party set out from Cambridge on the 20th May, 1799, and arrived at Hamburgh on the 25th. Here they made but a short stay before they set out for Copenhagen, and from thence, by way of Stockholm, across the whole of Sweden to Tornea, on the Gulf of Bothnia. Malthus and Otter left them at the Wener Lake. Clarke, with all the enthusiasm of a genuine traveller, could never imagine he had carried his researches sufficiently far; but, having reached the 66th degree of northern latitude, declared he would not return until he should have snuffed the polar air. His pupil, Cripps, seems to have shared largely in his locomotive propensity, and in the courage which prompts to indulge it. They therefore proceeded towards the polar regions together; but having reached Enontakis, in latitude 68° 30´ 30´´ north, our traveller, who had previously been seized by a severe fit of illness, was constrained to abandon the polar expedition and shape his course towards the south. Writing from Enontakis to his mother, “We have found,” says he, “the cottage of a priest in this remote corner of the world, and have been snug with him a few days. Yesterday I launched a balloon eighteen feet in height, which I had made to attract the natives. You may guess their astonishment when they saw it rise from the earth.