to maintain, that there was no distinction between virtue and vice, he
said, "Why Sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying;
and I see not what honour he can propose to himself from having the
character of a lyar. But if he does really think that there is no
distinction between virtue and vice, why Sir, when he leaves our houses
let us count our spoons."[126]
[Footnote 126: See Boswell's "Johnson." Date of July 14th, 1763.--ED.]
Of modern infidels and innovatours, he said, "Sir, these are all vain
men, and will gratify themselves at any expence. Truth will not afford
sufficient food to their vanity; so they have betaken themselves to
errour. Truth Sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk,
and so they are gone to milk the bull."[127]
[Footnote 127: See Boswell's "Johnson." Date of July 20th, 1763.--ED.]
I felt an elation of mind to see Paoli delighted with the sayings of Mr.
Johnson, and to hear him translate them with Italian energy to the
Corsican heroes.
I repeated Mr. Johnson's sayings as nearly as I could, in his own
peculiar forcible language,[128] for which, prejudiced or little
criticks have taken upon them to find fault with him. He is above making
any answer to them, but I have found a sufficient answer in a general
remark in one of his excellent papers. "Difference of thoughts will
produce difference of language. He that thinks with more extent than
another, will want words of larger meaning."[129]
[Footnote 128: "Lord Pembroke said once to me at Wilton, with a happy
pleasantry and some truth, that Dr. Johnson's sayings would not appear
so extraordinary were it not for his _bow-wow-way_."--Boswell's "Journal
of a Tour to the Hebrides," page 7.--ED.]
[Footnote 129: "Idler," number 70.]
I hope to be pardoned for this digression, wherein I pay a just tribute
of veneration and gratitude to one from whose writings and conversation
I have received instructions of which I experience the value in every
scene of my life.
During Paoli's administration there have been few laws made in Corsica.
He mentioned one which he has found very efficacious in curbing that
vindictive spirit of the Corsicans, of which I have said a good deal in
a former part of this work. There was among the Corsicans a most
dreadful species of revenge, called "Vendetta trasversa, Collateral
revenge," which Petrus Cyrnaeus candidly acknowledges. It was this. If a
man had received an injury, and could not find a proper opportunity to
be revenged on his enemy personally, he revenged himself on one of his
enemy's relations. So barbarous a practice, was the source of
innumerable assassinations. Paoli knowing that the point of honour was
every thing to the Corsicans, opposed it to the progress of the blackest
of crimes, fortified by long habits. He made a law, by which it was
provided, that this collateral revenge should not only be punished with
death, as ordinary murther, but the memory of the offender should be
disgraced for ever by a pillar of infamy. He also had it enacted that
the same statute should extend to the violatours of an oath of
reconciliation, once made.
By thus combating a vice so destructive, he has, by a kind of shock of
opposite passions, reduced the fiery Corsicans to a state of mildness,
and he assured me that they were now all fully sensible of the equity of
that law.
While I was at Sollacarò information was received that the poor wretch
who strangled the woman at the instigation of his mistress had consented
to accept of his life, upon condition of becoming hangman. This made a
great noise among the Corsicans, who were enraged at the creature, and
said their nation was now disgraced. Paoli did not think so. He said to
me, "I am glad of this. It will be of service. It will contribute to
form us to a just subordination.[130] We have as yet too great an
equality among us. As we must have Corsican taylours and Corsican
shoemakers, we must also have a Corsican hangman."
[Footnote 130: "'Sir,' said Johnson, 'I am a friend to subordination, as
most conducive to the happiness of society.'"--Boswell's "Johnson." Date
of June 13, 1763.--ED.]
I could not help being of a different opinion. The occupations of a
taylour and a shoemaker, though mean, are not odious. When I afterwards
met M. Rousseau in England, and made him a report of my Corsican
expedition, he agreed with me in thinking that it would be something
noble for the brave islanders to be able to say that there was not a
Corsican but who would rather suffer death than become a hangman; and he
also agreed with me, that it might have a good effect to have always a
Genoese for the hangman of Corsica.
I must, however, do the Genoese the justice to observe that Paoli told
me, that even one of them had suffered death in Corsica, rather than
consent to become hangman. When I, with a keenness natural enough in a
Briton born with an abhorrence at tyranny, talked with violence against
the Genoese, Paoli said with a moderation and candour which ought to do
him honour even with the republick, "It is true the Genoese are our
enemies; but let us not forget that they are the descendants of those
worthies who carried their arms beyond the Hellespont."
There is one circumstance in Paoli's character which I present to my
readers with caution, knowing how much it may be ridiculed in an age
when mankind are so fond of incredulity, that they seem to pique
themselves in contracting their circle of belief as much as possible.
But I consider this infidel rage as but a temporary mode of the human
understanding, and am well persuaded that e'er long we shall return to a
more calm philosophy.
I own I cannot help thinking that though we may boast some improvements
in science, and in short, superior degrees of knowledge in things where
our faculties can fully reach, yet we should not assume to ourselves
sounder judgements than those of our fathers; I will therefore venture
to relate that Paoli has at times extraordinary impressions of distant
and future events.
The way in which I discovered it was this: Being very desirous of
studying so exalted a character, I so far presumed upon his goodness to
me, as to take the liberty of asking him a thousand questions with
regard to the most minute and private circumstances of his life. Having
asked him one day when some of his nobles were present, whether a mind
so active as his was employed even in sleep, and if he used to dream
much, Signor Casa Bianca said, with an air and tone which implied
something of importance, "Sì, si sogna. Yes, he dreams." And upon my
asking him to explain his meaning, he told me that the General had often
seen in his dreams, what afterwards came to pass. Paoli confirmed this
by several instances. Said he, "I can give you no clear explanation of
it. I only tell you facts. Sometimes I have been mistaken, but in
general these visions have proved true. I cannot say what may be the
agency of invisible spirits. They certainly must know more than we do;
and there is nothing absurd in supposing that GOD should permit them to
communicate their knowledge to us."
He went into a most curious and pleasing disquisition on a subject,
which the late ingenious Mr. Baxter has treated in a very philosophical
manner, in his "Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul;"[131] a book
which may be read with as much delight, and surely with more advantage
than the works of those who endeavour to destroy our belief. Belief is
favourable to the human mind, were it for nothing else but to furnish it
entertainment. An infidel I should think must frequently suffer from
ennui.
[Footnote 131: Published in October, 1733. "The author is said to be one
Baxter."--"Gentleman's Magazine" for 1750, vol. xx.--ED.]
It was perhaps affectation in Socrates to say, that all he had learned
to know was that he knew nothing. But surely it is a mark of wisdom, to
be sensible of the limited extent of human knowledge, to examine with
reverence the ways of GOD, nor presumptuously reject any opinion which
has been held by the judicious and the learned, because it has been made
a cloak for artifice, or had a variety of fictions raised upon it by
credulity.
Old Feltham says, "Every dream is not to be counted of; nor yet are all
to be cast away with contempt. I would neither be a Stoick,
superstitious in all; nor yet an Epicure, considerate of none."[132] And
after observing how much the ancients attended to the interpretation of
dreams, he adds, "Were it not for the power of the gospel in crying down
the vains[133] of men, it would appear a wonder how a science so
pleasing to humanity, should fall so quite to ruin."[134]
[Footnote 132: "Feltham's Resolves," Cent. I., Resol. 52.]
[Footnote 133: He means vanity.]
[Footnote 134: "Feltham's Resolves," Cent. I., Resol. 52.]
The mysterious circumstance in Paoli's character which I have ventured
to relate, is universally believed in Corsica. The inhabitants of that
island, like the Italians, express themselves much by signs. When I
asked one of them if there had been many instances of the General's
foreseeing future events, he grasped a large bunch of his hair, and
replied, "Tante, Signore, So many, Sir."
It may be said that the General has industriously propagated this
opinion, in order that he might have more authority in civilizing a rude
and ferocious people, as Lycurgus pretended to have the sanction of the
oracle at Delphos, as Numa gave it out that he had frequent interviews
with the nymph Egeria, or as Marius persuaded the Romans that he
received divine communications from a hind. But I cannot allow myself to
suppose that Paoli ever required the aid of pious frauds.
Paoli, though never familiar, has the most perfect ease of behaviour.
This is a mark of a real great character. The distance and reserve which
some of our modern nobility affect is, because nobility is now little
else than a name in comparison of what it was in ancient times. In
ancient times, noblemen lived at their country seats, like princes, in
hospitable grandeur. They were men of power, and every one of them could
bring hundreds of followers into the field. They were then open and
affable. Some of our modern nobility are so anxious to preserve an
appearance of dignity which they are sensible cannot bear an
examination, that they are afraid to let you come near them. Paoli is
not so. Those about him come into his apartment at all hours, wake him,
help him on with his clothes, are perfectly free from restraint; yet
they know their distance, and, awed by his real greatness, never lose
their respect for him.
Though thus easy of access, particular care is taken against such
attempts upon the life of the illustrious Chief, as he has good reason
to apprehend from the Genoese, who have so often employed assassination
merely in a political view, and who would gain so much by assassinating
Paoli. A certain number of soldiers are continually on guard upon him;
and as still closer guards, he has some faithful Corsican dogs. Of these
five or six sleep, some in his chamber, and some at the outside of the
chamber-door. He treats them with great kindness, and they are strongly
attached to him. They are extremely sagacious, and know all his friends
and attendants. Were any person to approach the General during the
darkness of the night, they would instantly tear him in pieces.
Having dogs for his attendants, is another circumstance about Paoli
similar to the heroes of antiquity. Homer represents Telemachus so
attended.
[Greek: duô kunes argoi heponto],
--HOMER, "Odyss.," lib. ii., l. 11.
"Two dogs a faithful guard attend behind."
--POPE.
But the description given of the family of Patroclus applies better to
Paoli.
[Greek: Ennea tô ge anakti trapezêes kunes êsan],
--HOMER, "Iliad," lib. xxiii., l. 73.
"Nine large dogs domestick at his board."
--POPE.
Mr. Pope, in his notes on the second book of the "Odyssey," is much
pleased with dogs being introduced, as it furnishes an agreeable
instance of ancient simplicity. He observes that Virgil thought this
circumstance worthy of his imitation, in describing old Evander.[135] So
we read of Syphax, general of the Numidians, "Syphax inter duos canes
stans, Scipionem appellavit.[136] Syphax standing between two dogs
called to Scipio."
[Footnote 135: "Æneid," lib. viii., l. 461.]
[Footnote 136: I mention this on the authority of an excellent scholar,
and one of our best writers, Mr. Joseph Warton, in his notes on the
Aeneid; for I have not been able to find the passage in Livy which he
quotes.]
Talking of courage, he made a very just distinction between
constitutional courage and courage from reflection. "Sir Thomas More,"
said he, "would not probably have mounted a breach so well as a sergeant
who had never thought of death. But a sergeant would not on a scaffold
have shewn the calm resolution of Sir Thomas More."
On this subject he told me a very remarkable anecdote, which happened
during the last war in Italy. At the siege of Tortona, the commander of
the army which lay before the town, ordered Carew an Irish officer in
the service of Naples, to advance with a detachment to a particular
post. Having given his orders, he whispered to Carew, "Sir, I know you
to be a gallant man. I have therefore put you upon this duty. I tell you
in confidence, it is certain death for you all. I place you there to
make the enemy spring a mine below you." Carew made a bow to the
general, and led on his men in silence to the dreadful post. He there
stood with an undaunted countenance, and having called to one of the
soldiers for a draught of wine, "Here," said he, "I drink to all those
who bravely fall in battle." Fortunately at that instant Tortona
capitulated, and Carew escaped. But he had thus a full opportunity of
displaying a rare instance of determined intrepidity. It is with
pleasure that I record an anecdote so much to the honour of a gentleman
of that nation, on which illiberal reflections are too often thrown, by
those of whom it little deserves them. Whatever may be the rough jokes
of wealthy insolence, or the envious sarcasms of needy jealousy, the
Irish have ever been, and will continue to be, highly regarded upon the
continent.
Paoli's personal authority among the Corsicans struck me much. I have
seen a crowd of them, with eagerness and impetuosity, endeavouring to
approach him, as if they would have burst into his apartment by force.
In vain did the guards attempt to restrain them; but when he called to
them in a tone of firmness, "Non c'è ora ricorso, No audience now," they
were hushed at once.
He one afternoon gave us an entertaining dissertation on the ancient art
of war. He observed that the ancients allowed of little baggage, which
they very properly called "impedimenta;" whereas the moderns burthen
themselves with it to such a degree, that 50,000 of our present soldiers
are allowed as much baggage as was formerly thought sufficient for all
the armies of the Roman empire. He said it was good for soldiers to be
heavy armed, as it renders them proportionably robust; and he remarked
that when the Romans lightened their arms the troops became
enfeebled.[137] He made a very curious observation with regard to the
towers full of armed men, which we are told were borne on the backs of
their elephants. He said it must be a mistake; for if the towers were
broad, there would not be room for them on the backs of elephants; for
he and a friend who was an able calculatour, had measured a very large
elephant at Naples, and made a computation of the space necessary to
hold the number of men said to be contained in those towers, and they
found that the back of the broadest elephant would not be sufficient,
after making the fullest allowance for what might be hung by ballance on
either side of the animal. If again the towers were high, they would
fall; for he did not think it at all probable that the Romans had the
art of tying on such monstrous machines at a time when they had not
learnt the use even of girths to their saddles. He said he did not give
too much credit to the figures on Trajan's pillar, many of which were
undoubtedly false. He said it was his opinion, that those towers were
only drawn by the elephants; an opinion founded in probability, and free
from the difficulties of that which has been commonly received.
[Footnote 137: "The enervated soldiers abandoned their own, and the
public defence; and their pusillanimous indolence may be considered as
the immediate cause of the downfall of the empire." Gibbon's "Decline
and Fall," chapter 27.--ED.]
Talking of various schemes of life, fit for a man of spirit and
education; I mentioned to him that of being a foreign minister. He said
he thought it a very agreeable employment for a man of parts and
address, during some years of his life. "In that situation," said he, "a
man will insensibly attain to a greater knowledge of men and manners,
and a more perfect acquaintance with the politicks of Europe. He will be
promoted according to the returns which he makes to his court. They must
be accurate, distinct, without fire or ornament. He may subjoin his own
opinion, but he must do it with great modesty. The ministry at home are
proud."
He said the greatest happiness was not in glory, but in goodness; and
that Penn in his American colony, where he had established a people in
quiet and contentment, was happier than Alexander the Great after
destroying multitudes at the conquest of Thebes. He observed that the
history of Alexander is obscure and dubious; for his captains who
divided his kingdom, were too busy to record his life and actions, and
would at any rate wish to render him odious to posterity.
Never was I so thoroughly sensible of my own defects as while I was in
Corsica. I felt how small were my abilities, and how little I knew.
Ambitious to be the companion of Paoli, and to understand a country and
a people which roused me so much, I wished to be a Sir James
MacDonald.[138]
[Footnote 138: Sir James MacDonald, baronet of the Isle of Sky, who at
the age of one and twenty, had the learning and abilities of a
Professour and a statesman, with the accomplishments of a man of the
world. Eton and Oxford will ever remember him as one of their greatest
ornaments.[B] He was well known to the most distinguished in Europe, but
was carried off from all their expectations. He died at Frescati, near
Rome, in 1765. Had he lived a little longer, I believe I should have
prevailed with him to visit Corsica.]
[Footnote B: Horace Walpole thus describes him in a letter dated
September 30th, 1765:--"He is a very extraordinary young man for variety
of learning. He is rather too wise for his age, and too fond of showing
it; but when he has seen more of the world, he will choose to know
less." See also Boswell's "Johnson." Date of July 20th, 1763.--ED.]
The last day which I spent with Paoli appeared of inestimable value. I
thought him more than usually great and amiable, when I was upon the eve
of parting from him. The night before my departure, a little incident
happened which shewed him in a most agreeable light. When the servants
were bringing in the desert after supper, one of them chanced to let
fall a plate of walnuts. Instead of flying into a passion at what the
man could not help, Paoli said with a smile, "No matter;" and turning to
me, "It is a good sign for you, Sir, Tempus est spargere nuces, It is
time to scatter walnuts. It is a matrimonial omen: You must go home to
your own country, and marry some fine woman whom you really like. I
shall rejoice to hear of it."
This was a pretty allusion to the Roman ceremony at weddings, of
scattering walnuts. So Virgil's "Damon" says--
"Mopse novas incide faces: tibi ducitur uxor.
Sparge marite nuces: tibi deserit Hesperus Oetam."
--VIRG. "Eclog." viii, l. 30.
"Thy bride comes forth! begin the festal rites!
The walnuts strew! prepare the nuptial lights!
O envied husband, now thy bliss is nigh!
Behold for thee bright Hesper mounts the sky!"
--WARTON.
When I again asked Paoli if it was possible for me in any way to shew
him my great respect and attachment, he replied, "Ricordatevi che Io vi
sia amico, e scrivetemi. Remember that I am your friend, and write to
me." I said I hoped that when he honoured me with a letter, he would
write not only as a commander, but as a philosopher and a man of
letters. He took me by the hand, and said, "As a friend." I dare not
transcribe from my private notes the feelings which I had at this
interview. I should perhaps appear too enthusiastick. I took leave of
Paoli with regret and agitation, not without some hopes of seeing him
again. From having known intimately so exalted a character, my
sentiments of human nature were raised, while, by a sort of contagion, I
felt an honest ardour to distinguish myself, and be useful, as far as my
situation and abilities would allow; and I was, for the rest of my life,
set free from a slavish timidity in the presence of great men, for where
shall I find a man greater than Paoli?
When I set out from Sollacarò I felt myself a good deal indisposed. The
old house of Colonna, like the family of its master, was much decayed;
so that both wind and rain found their way into my bed-chamber. From
this I contracted a severe cold, which ended in a tertian ague. There
was no help for it. I might well submit to some inconveniences, where I
had enjoyed so much happiness.
I was accompanied a part of the road by a great swarthy priest, who had
never been out of Corsica. He was a very Hercules for strength and
resolution. He and two other Corsicans took a castle, garrisoned by no
less than fifteen Genoese. Indeed the Corsicans have such a contempt for
their enemies, that I have heard them say, "Basterebbero le donne contra
i Genovesi, Our women would be enough against the Genoese." This priest
was a bluff, hearty, roaring fellow, troubled neither with knowledge nor
care. He was ever and anon shewing me how stoutly his nag could caper.
He always rode some paces before me, and sat in an attitude half turned
round, with his hand clapped upon the crupper. Then he would burst out
with comical songs about the devil and the Genoese,[139] and I don't
know what all. In short, notwithstanding my feverishness, he kept me
laughing whether I would or no.
[Footnote 139: "When he came to the part--
'We'll still make 'em run, and we'll still make 'em sweat,
In spite of the devil and Brussels Gazette!'
his eyes would sparkle as with the freshness of an impending
event."--Letter of Charles Lambe to H.C. Robinson, January 20th,
1826.--ED.]
I was returning to Corte, but I varied my road a little from the way I
had come, going more upon the low country, and nearer the western shore.
At Cauro I had a fine view of Ajaccio and its environs. My ague was
sometime of forming, so I had frequent intervals of ease, which I
employed in observing whatever occurred. I was lodged at Cauro in the
house of Signor Peraldi of Ajaccio, who received me with great
politeness. I found here another provincial magistracy. Before supper,
Signor Peraldi and a young Abbé of Ajaccio entertained me with some airs
on a violin. After they had shewn me their taste in fine improved
musick, they gave me some original Corsican airs, and at my desire, they
brought up four of the guards of the magistracy, and made them shew me a
Corsican dance. It was truly savage. They thumped with their heels,
sprung upon their toes, brandished their arms, wheeled and leaped with
the most violent gesticulations. It gave me the idea of an admirable war
dance.