“Certainly it would have been pleasant to have had a companion; but for
my own part, I often enjoy a solitary walk: it is, I think, a great
advantage to accustom the mind to submit sometimes to solitude, and to
look for pleasure from within. Suppose there be nothing to see, why
should you be dull? Have you not memory and reflection for companions?
Do not your various pursuits furnish you with matter for consideration?
Study is absolutely useless, if you do not, by daily recalling what you
have read, endeavour to class and arrange it in your mind; can you feel
alone and dull when thus engaged, and is not that retired walk exactly
suited for such employment? But, come with me, my dear,” he added, “and
I will shew you sufficient to occupy both eyes and mind even in that
dull place.”
A walk with my uncle is one of my greatest pleasures, dear mamma.--I was
ready in a minute--and to the beech-walk we went; but it was no longer a
dull walk; all he says is so delightful, and he listens so patiently to
every question. After a few turns, in which I entirely forgot the
North-east wind, he said, “There is no place, my little Bertha, that
does not present some objects of interest to those who choose to open
their eyes. For instance, even on this rough ditch, and on the old wall
that joins it, you may see a curious variety of vegetation, which your
finest embroidery cannot equal. Look at those mosses; they are among the
meanest plants, yet there is not one that is not worth examining. The
fructification is still to be seen on that tuft of _bearded thread
moss_. Take your little magnifying glass and look at the cup which is so
delicate, and yet so firm, its edge strengthened by that finely toothed
ring, to which the slender conical lid is exactly fitted; its pointed
top, you see, serves to attach that little shining scaly membrane, which
is the principal defence of the flower and seed from the weather, and
which is called the veil or _Calyptra_.
“Now, Bertha, look at this _silver thread moss_, here on the walk, with
its diminutive leaves so closely pressed to the stem as to be hardly
visible; it is now quite green, but in some weeks it will become of a
shining silvery white, especially when dry; and this circumstance
distinguishes it from all other mosses.”
I asked him the name of the moss that is so common on the roots of the
trees, creeping through the grass round them, and growing in tufts of
long crowded shoots;--he told me that those long crowded shoots mark
that species, and he shewed me the brown fibres by which they cling to
the trees; and the leaves which grow in double rows, ending in little
crooked hairs; he called it the _trailing feather moss_. He seemed to
take as much pleasure in explaining a thousand things about them as I
did in listening. How stupidly I had walked up and down there, and never
cast my eyes on the beautiful structure of these little plants! We then
examined several lichens, some in tufts hanging from the branches of
trees and bushes, or encircling them with their crisp flat leaves;
others covering the stems with an odd white crust; while on the damp
earth beneath we found the _cup lichen_ in deep sea-green patches,
displaying its tiny cups like fairy wine-glasses.
“On those stones,” said my uncle, “you may trace the beginning of all
vegetation, from the little black spots, which are scarcely discernible,
to the larger lichens and mosses of different forms and sizes. Or, let
us turn to the grassy bank, and you may there see a great number of
herbaceous plants still green, mixing with that useful grass, the
creeping bent, which throws out fresh pasture at this late season from
the joints of its runners or _stolones_.”
He shewed me many of these plants; and more than once said, “Everything
here is interesting to persons of observation, and particularly so to
those who know something of botany. But they are not merely for
momentary examination--the variety and the design, to be found in each,
supply ample subject of reflection.”
Just at that moment I heard a shrill cry, and I interrupted my uncle to
ask what it was.
He told me that it was the alarm-cry of the fieldfare, and pointed to a
large tree at the end of the walk, where a number of fieldfares and
redwings, lately arrived from a colder climate, had collected.
“You see,” said my uncle, “that even without any fine picturesque view,
you may have abundance of amusement here, not only in observing the
growth of mosses and plants, but in watching the habits of birds. You
may see the little woodpecker, and the still smaller creeper running
nimbly up the stems of the trees, and pecking insects and their eggs out
of the crevices of the bark; or the fauvette and the friendly robin
waiting on every spray for a little notice; while in the thickets to the
left you may see the missel thrush, and may sometimes distinguish its
note, though it does not actually sing at this season.”
As my uncle said this, we approached the tree on which the fieldfares
were perched: they seemed at first unmindful of us; but, as we came
nearer, one bird which I had observed sitting alone at the very end of
a branch, rose suddenly on its wings and gave a cry of alarm, which was
the same I had heard before. The moment this happened, they all flew off
together, except one, which remained there till we almost reached the
tree, when it repeated the same cry and followed the rest.
My uncle told me that this is the constant habit of these birds; they
arrive late in autumn, and always collect in a flock, placing one on the
watch to give the alarm. When they spread over a field in search of
food, they never separate much, and fly off in a body at the first
notice of their sentinel. The redwing sings sweetly in its native
country, Sweden, though here it makes only a piping noise. As we walked
along, he told me that fieldfares were formerly kept in aviaries by the
Romans, who fattened them on bread and minced figs; during which process
very little light was admitted, and all objects were excluded from their
sight, that could remind them of their former liberty. We watched these
birds for a long time; and as we returned home my uncle said, “But in
suggesting these subjects of observation, Bertha, I do not mean that you
should always stand still in the cold to examine them; nor do I suppose
that in one walk you could attend to such a variety of objects. I only
want to shew you how much amusement a solitary winter’s walk, even
along a _dull_ straight high ditch, can supply for both eyes and
thoughts.
“Besides all these, you, my little botanist, might have another endless
subject for examination in our deciduous trees, on many of which you
will find that, unlike those of tropical climates, the young shoots,
leaves and flowers are formed in autumn, and cradled up in scaly buds,
where they are secure from frost, till the following spring.
“Indeed, the comparisons you must be naturally induced to make between
your two countries, might supply you with amusing and useful occupation;
and the result will be, that in each you will discover how peculiarly
every creature and every vegetable is adapted to the country where it
has been placed.”
_6th_, _Sunday._--I asked my uncle this morning, why Joseph said that
every shepherd was an abomination to an Egyptian; and also, why Joseph
expected, that when Pharaoh was informed that his father and brethren
were shepherds, he would order them to dwell in the land of Goshen?
“In the first place,” said he, “it is supposed that Egypt had been
invaded and subdued by a tribe of warlike shepherds from Arabia, called
Cushites, or sons of Cush. They were also called the Pali, or
shepherds; and their leaders called themselves the Shepherd-Kings. Six
of these Shepherd-kings are said to have successively reigned in Egypt,
till at length the native princes, weary of their tyranny, rebelled, and
expelled them. They retired into the land of Canaan, and established
themselves at Jerusalem, and in other strong situations in that country,
which, from them, obtained the name of Palestine, or Palis-tan--the
country of the Pali. These people afterwards became the Philistines, who
were such troublesome neighbours to the Israelites.
“The memory of their tyranny was still fresh in the minds of the
Egyptians, at the time that Joseph’s family removed to Egypt; and it
was, therefore, natural that every shepherd should be an abomination to
the Egyptians. Cush, you know, was the eldest son of Ham; the Egyptians
were descended from Mizraim, the second son of Ham, and Egypt is to this
day called Mizr, by the Arabs and Abyssinians.
“As to your second question,” continued my uncle, “in regard to their
being ordered to dwell in the land of Goshen, it appears probable that
there had been shepherds in those parts before; otherwise Joseph could
scarcely have foreseen that that portion of the land would be given to
his brethren. Besides which, Goshen being chiefly adapted to pasturage,
which was so contrary to the taste of the Egyptians, this region most
likely lay neglected. Hence we see why the Israelites found such easy
access into the country, so as not only to be allowed to dwell in it,
but to have the land of Goshen given them for a possession, even the
best of the land of Egypt.”
“I wonder,” said Wentworth, “why the Israelites were sent by Providence
into Egypt, as they were, after a time, to be placed in Canaan, the land
of promise, and would, therefore, be again unsettled and obliged to
remove.”
“It has been suggested,” said my uncle, “that the promise made to
Abraham, to give to his posterity the land of Canaan, was not to be
fulfilled, till this great family of Israel was strong enough to take
that land by force from the inhabitants, and to keep possession of it.
Besides, the Canaanites had not then completed the measure of their
wickedness, which was to be punished by the loss of their country.
“In the meantime, though the Israelites were obliged to reside amongst
idolaters, and were enjoined to preserve themselves unmixed; yet Egypt
was the only place where they could for so long a time remain safe from
being confounded with the natives. For the ancient Egyptians were, by
numerous institutions, forbidden all fellowship with strangers; and
having a particular aversion to the employment of the Israelites, they
were, by that means, more completely separated. Besides, during their
long residence of above 400 years in Egypt, the Israelites, who were but
simple shepherds when they went there, had the advantage of acquiring a
knowledge of the various arts in which the Egyptians excelled.
“The Bible here, as in many other cases, only records the facts: we
cannot now penetrate, my dear boy, into the causes or motives which led
to them; but we may be sure that what was dictated by Infinite Wisdom
was just and proper; and in venturing to assign such reasons as we can
infer from other circumstances in history, we should do so with great
modesty and distrust of ourselves.”
_7th._--My uncle has been obliged to go to London about business; he
left us this morning, but his stay will not be very long, I hope, for we
shall miss him excessively, and the more so, as winter is completely
begun. We have now dark days, with frequent rain and storms; few trees
have even a withered leaf remaining, and every thing out of doors has a
forlorn and desolate appearance.
But though the leaves are all gone, we have still a few flowers; the
China rose is still in bloom, and in the sheltered warm borders, we find
a few wall-flowers, some lilac primroses, and many Neapolitan violets,
which are delightfully sweet.
_9th._--When we were walking this morning in the forest, Frederick made
me take notice of a flock of crows, which were quite different in
appearance from the common rook. The back is ash-coloured, while the
head, throat, wings, and tail, are black. I was surprised at my own
blindness in not having observed them before; but Frederick told me that
they had only arrived lately, as they change their abode twice in the
year. About the middle of autumn, they appear in the southern parts of
England in flocks; and in the beginning of spring they depart in a
northerly direction; though in some parts of Scotland and Ireland, they
remain through the whole year. This species is still more familiar than
the rook, and in winter will go even to the yards of houses to pick up
food. It is called the hooded crow, or scare-crow. I heard it give two
cries, one was the hollow hoarse note of the crow, but the other was
shrill, and not very unlike the crowing of a cock. They are remarkable
for this double cry.
Mr. Landt, in his description of the Feroe Islands, says that one or two
hundred of these birds sometimes assemble, as if by general consent. A
few of them sit with drooping heads, others seem as grave as if they
were the judges, and others again very bustling and noisy. The meeting
breaks up in about an hour, when one or two are generally found dead on
the spot; and it has been supposed, by those who have observed them
carefully, that they were criminals punished for their offences.
Frederick says he has read that in the Orkneys, too, they meet in
spring, as if to deliberate on concerns of importance; and after flying
about in this collected state for eight or ten days, they separate into
pairs, and retire to the mountains.
Along with those we saw several carrion crows with their glossy plumage
of bluish black; they not only associate with rooks and other crows, but
approach our dwellings and saunter among the flocks; and I really saw
some hopping on the backs of pigs and sheep, with such apparent
familiarity that one might have imagined they were domestic birds.
Towards the close of winter the hooded crow and the rook remove to other
regions, but the carrion crows resort to the nearest woods, which they
seem to divide into separate districts, one for each pair; and it is
remarkable that they never intrude on each other’s portions.
Crows may well be called _omnivorous_ birds, for they eat every
thing--flesh, eggs, worms, grain, fish, and fruit. Shell fish, it is
said, they very ingeniously crack by dropping them from a great height
on a stone. Many people have seen this; and the great Mr. Watt, whose
observation was always alive, watched one of these sagacious crows
taking up a crab into the air, which it repeatedly let fall on a rock,
till the shell w?as completely broken. The same ingenuity has been
observed in another species of the crow family, in North America: a blue
jay, which had been tamed, finding the dried seeds of Indian corn too
hard to break, placed one in the corner of a shelf in the green-house,
between the wall and a plant box: having thus secured it on three sides,
he easily contrived to break it; and, having once succeeded, he
continued ever after to apply the same means.
_10th._--We have had a grand discussion in our walk this morning, on
genius. Mary’s opinion is, that it never exists originally; and that
wherever biography affords us the opportunity of learning the small
circumstances of early life, we may observe that something had occurred
to turn the attention, while young, to that pursuit, in which successful
perseverance had been afterwards ascribed to genius. For instance, in
the thirteenth century, some Greek painters being employed in the
churches of Florence, the youthful Cimabue gazed for whole days in
admiration of their work: he afterwards devoted himself to the art, and
quickly surpassed his masters. Here, but for the circumstance of the
Greek painters, his talent might have remained unknown even to himself.
“But,” said Caroline, “his own pupil, Giotto, may be opposed to your
theory; you know he was a shepherd boy, whom Cimabue found accurately
drawing the figures of his sheep on the sand.”
“I confess,” said Mary, “that does seem rather against me, but we do not
know what previous opportunities he might have had. Canova’s genius, it
is said, shewed itself in the obscurity of village life; yet we learn
from his Memoirs that he lived with his grandfather, who, though only a
common stone-cutter, was in the habit of designing and working
architectural ornaments, and surely that accounts for the tendency of
his pupil’s mind.”
“Very well,” replied Caroline, “I will leave you in possession of
Canova, and only ask what you think of West--the great West? Belonging
to the sect of Quakers, who disapprove of making any representation of
the human form, and born in North America, where the arts were not at
that time cultivated, he had never seen any sort of drawing; yet while
he was a very little boy, being desired to watch a sleeping infant, he
was so charmed with its little face and attitude, that he made an
excellent sketch of it with a bit of half-burned wood. Was not that,
Mary, from the impulse of genius?”
“I see,” said Wentworth, “that Mary does not think herself quite
conquered; but as it is going to rain, suppose we adjourn the debate, as
papa says, to another day. Caroline shall then have Bertha on her side;
I will do my best for Mary, as a true knight is bound to assist the
weak; and Frederick shall be the umpire, and adjudge the wreath of
victory.”
We all agreed to this plan; and I am sure it will produce a great deal
of amusement. My uncle and aunt approve of these good-humoured contests,
in which we never lose our temper, and all gain information.
_11th._--Our _genius_ conversation of yesterday having been mentioned in
the evening at tea, my aunt encouraged us to repeat our arguments, and
to defend them by fresh examples; and my uncle so nicely threw himself,
sometimes into one scale, and sometimes into the other, that both
parties valued themselves on his support. I am rather in doubt which
will amuse you most, the anecdotes of various people that he related, or
some circumstances in Canova’s life that my aunt afterwards told us: I
believe these interested me the most, so I shall begin with them.
“The beautiful country round Passagno, and the refreshing breezes from
the Alps, made it a frequent summer residence for the Venetian nobility.
Old Pasino Canova, who lived there, was often employed in the repairs or
embellishments of their villas, and on these occasions he was
accompanied by his grandson. Young Canova thus became known to the
senator Falier, who was afterwards his most zealous patron; and an
intimacy was formed between him and Giuseppe Falier, the youngest son,
which ceased only with Canova’s life.
“The ingenuous disposition of Canova, his animated countenance and his
modesty, interested the elder Falier; and he took him, when about twelve
years old, under his immediate protection. But it was by a mere accident
that his talents were first noticed. At a festival celebrated at the
villa of Falier, and attended by many of the Venetian nobility, the
domestics had neglected to provide an ornament for the dessert. The
omission was not discovered till it was too late; and, fearing the
displeasure of their master, they applied to Pasino, who, with his
grandson, was then at work in the house.
“The old man could suggest no remedy; but young Antonio desired to have
some butter, and in a few moments he modelled a lion, with such skill
and effect, that, when it appeared at table, it excited the attention
and applause of all present. The servants were questioned--the whole
was disclosed, and little Tonin declared to be the contriver. He was
immediately called for; and blushing and half reluctant, was led into
the brilliant assembly, where he received universal praise and
caresses.”
“There is a circumstance strikingly similar to this,” continued my aunt,
“which is told of our celebrated sculptor Chantrey, and of which I
believe there is no doubt, as I was told it by a person to whom
Chantrey, with noble candour, had himself communicated it. When quite a
boy, not more than nine or ten, he used frequently to visit his aunt,
who was housekeeper to a lady of fortune in Derbyshire. During one of
these visits, it was observed that the flowers and ornaments of the
pastry at table were executed with particularly good taste; and the
housekeeper acknowledged that she had allowed her little nephew to amuse
himself in making whatever ornaments he fancied. The lady determined on
giving him other opportunities of trying his talents, and finding how
very superior they were, she actually sent him to London to receive
instruction. With what delight this benevolent and judicious woman must
now behold the works of this great artist; and how much she must enjoy
the fame which he has so justly acquired!
“The progress which Canova made, and the perfection even of his earliest
works, is known to all the world; but perhaps you may not have heard
that during his whole life, both while suffering opposition from envious
artists, who threw every obstacle in his way, and afterwards when he had
attained the highest success, he preserved his unpretending modesty and
simplicity. He neither yielded to occasional disappointment, nor to the
vanity of shewing that he could surpass his rivals. Improvement was the
one great object which he unremittingly pursued, and all his ideas were
subjected to rigid examination; he compared them first with nature, and
he then flew to the Vatican, where he compared them with the
antique.--The result always calmed his solicitude; he returned with
fresh confidence to his _studio_, and in solitude laboured to perfect
his style, without either boasting to his friends, or triumphing over
his opponents.
“This modest reserve always marked his conduct. To the observations of
friends, whether of approbation or criticism, he seldom replied. ‘To
praise,’ he used to say, ‘what can I answer?--to the censures of
well-wishers I must listen in silence; for if wrong, their feelings
would be hurt by telling them so, and if correct, I endeavour to profit
by their remarks,’ But it frequently occurred that he reminded his
friends of their former criticisms, and candidly pointed out the
consequent correction.
“His high talents were combined with the most amiable disposition, and
a most grateful heart. His good old grandmother lived to see the success
and the excellence of the object of her care; and Canova, who cherished
every affectionate feeling, enjoyed that first of pleasures--the
repaying former benefits. After the death of his grandfather he brought
her to reside with him at Rome, and his friends still remember his
tender anxiety to make the close of her life happy.
“Canova sculptured the bust of his grandmother, in the dress of her
native province, which was the same as that of Titian’s mother; and this
bust he kept in his own apartment.--Pointing it out one day to a
visiter, he said, with much emotion, ‘That is a piece which I greatly
value;--it is the likeness of her to whom I owe as much as it is
possible for one human being to owe to another;’ adding, ‘you see she is
dressed nearly as Titian’s mother; but unless affection renders me a
partial judge, my grandmother is much the finer old woman.’”
_12th._--Mary has a most enviable memory; she has just been entertaining
me with what she read in Waddington’s travels in Dongola.
She says, the houses there are either a sort of mud fortresses intended
for defence, or else low cottages of straw and branches, tied together
with bands, and supported at each corner by the dry stem of a palm, to
which the walls are united.
The vale of Farjas is described as a most romantic little spot; a green
and cultivated valley not two hundred yards broad, closely shut in
between a range of high granite rocks, and a narrow branch of the Nile;
and flourishing in freshness and fertility, in the middle of the wildest
waste. The simple inhabitants offered a great many little civilities to
Mr. W. and his companions.
She mentioned also two very curious passes through the hills; one called
the “Pass of the Water’s Mouth,” near the entrance of which are two
immense stones, as regular as if formed and placed there by art; and the
other a winding pass amongst high rocks, that required an hour and forty
minutes to travel through it; it is oddly called “The Father of the
Acacias,” though from beginning to end it contains not one symptom of
vegetation.
But I can write no more now, for my aunt has sent for me to walk with
her, if I am so inclined--and that indeed I am.