town. But this is as it pleafes God. I have much to fay to you concerning myfelf and my ftudies, but I would rather do it when we meet, and as to-morrow I am about to return into the country, and am bufy in making preparations for my journey, I have but just time to fcribble this. Adieu.

London, Sept. 7, 1637.

VII.

To the fame.

Most of my other friends think it enough to give me one farewell in their letters, but I fee why you do it fo often; for you give me to understand that your medical authority is now added to the potency, and fubfervient to the completion of thofe general expreffions of good-will which are nothing but words and air. You wish me my health fix hundred times, in as great a quantity as I can with, as I am able to bear, or even more than this. Truly, you fhould be appointed butler to the house of Health, whofe ftores you fo lavishly beftow; or at least health fhould become your parafite, fince you fo lord it over her, and command her at your pleasure. I fend you therefore my congratulations and my thanks, both on account of your friendthip and your fkill. I was was long kept waiting in expectation of a letter from you, which you had engaged to write; but when no letter came my old regard for you fuffered not, I can affure you, the fmallett diminution, for I had fuppofed that the fame apology for remiffness, which you had employed in the beginning of our correfpondence, you would again employ. This was a fuppofition agreeable to truth and to the intimacy between us. For I do not think that true friendfhip confifts in the frequency of letters, or in profeffions of regard, which may be counterfeited; but it is fo deeply rooted in the heart and affections, as to fupport itself against the rudeft blaft; and when it origi

nates

nates in fincerity and virtue, it may remain through life without fufpicion and without blame, even when there is no longer any reciprocal interchange of kindneffes. For the cherishing aliment of a friendship fuch as this, there is not fo much need of letters as of a lively recollection of each other's virtues. And though you have not written, you have fomething that may supply the omiffion: your probity writes to me in your ftead; it is a letter ready written on the innermoft men brane of the heart; the fimplicity of your manners, and the rectitude of your principles, ferve as correfpondents in your place; your genius, which is above the common level, .writes, and ferves in a ftill greater degree to endear you to me. But now you have got poffeffion of this defpotic citadel of medicine, do not alarm me with the menace of being obliged to repay thofe fix hundred healths which you have beftowed, if I fhould, which God forbid, ever forfeit your friendship. Remove that formidable battery which you feem to have placed upon my breast to keep off all fickness but what comes by your permiffion. But that you may not indulge any excefs of menace I muft inform you, that I cannot help loving you fuch as you are; for whatever the Deity may have bestowed upon me in other refpects, he has certainly inspired me, if any ever were inspired, with a paffion for the good and fair. Nor did Ceres, according to the fable, ever feek her daughter Proferpine with fuch unceafing folicitude as I have fought this Tÿ naλ idéav, this perfect model of the beautiful in all the forms and appearances of things (πολλαι γαρ μορφαί των Aaoviv, many are the forms of the divinities.) I am wont day and night to continue my fearch; and I follow in the way in which you go before. Hence, I feel an irresistible impulfe to cultivate the friendship of him, who, defpifing the prejudiced and falfe conceptions of the vulgar, dares to think, to speak, and to be that which the higheft wifdom has in every age taught to be the best. But if my difpofition or my destiny were fuch that I could without any conflict or any toil emerge to the highest pitch of diftinction and of praise;

there

there would nevertheless be no prohibition, either human or divine, against my conftantly cherishing and revering thofe, who have either obtained the fame degree of glory, or are fuccefsfully labouring to obtain it. But now I am fure that you with me to gratify your curiofity, and to let you know what I have been doing or am meditating to do. Hear me, my Deodati, and fuffer me for a moment to speak without blushing in a more lofty ftrain. Do you afk what I am meditating? by the help of heaven, an immortality of faine. But what am I doing? Tεgouw, I am letting my wings grow and preparing to fly; but my Pegafus has not yet feathers enough to foar aloft in the fields of air. I will now tell you feriously what I defign; to take chambers in one of the inns of court, where I may have the benefit of a pleafant and fhady walk; and where with a few affociates I may enjoy more comfort when I choose to stay at home, and have a more elegant fociety when I choose to go abroad. In my prefent fituation, you know in what obfcurity I am buried, and to what inconveniencies I am expofed. You fhall likewife have fome information refpecting my ftudies. I went through the perufal of the Greek authors to the time when they ceased to be Greeks; I was long employed in unravelling the obscure hiftory of the Italians under the Lombards, the Franks, and Germans, to the time when they received their liberty from Rodolphus king of Germany. From that time it will be better to read feparately the particular tranfactions of each ftate. But how are you employed? How long will you attend to your domeftic ties and forget your city connections? But unless this novercal hoftility be more inveterate than that of the Dacian or Sarmatian, you will feel it a duty to visit me in my winter quarters. In the mean time, if you can do it without inconvenience, I will thank you to fend me Juftinian the hiftorian of Venice. I will either keep it carefully till your arrival, or if you had rather, will foon fend it back again. Adieu.

London, Sept. 23, 1637.

Te

E

VIII.

TO BENEDITTO BONOMATTAI, a Florentine.

I AM glad to hear, my dear Bonomattai, that you are preparing new inftitutes of your native language, and have just brought the work to a conclufion. The way to fame which you have chofen is the fame as that which fome perfons of the firft genius have embraced; and your fellow-citizens feem ardently to expect that you will either illuftrate or amplify, or at least polish and methodize the labours of your predeceffors. By fuch a work you will lay your countrymen under no common obligation, which they will be ungrateful if they do not acknowledge. For I hold him to deferve the highest praise who fixes the principles, and forms the manners of a state, and makes the wildom of his adminiftration confpicuous both at home and abroad. But I affign the fecond place to him, who endeavours by precepts and by rules to perpetuate that ftyle and idiom of fpeech and compofition which have flourished in the purest periods of the language, and who, as it were, throws up fuch a trench around it that people may be prevented from going beyond the boundary almoft by the terrors of a Romulean prohibition. If we compare the benefits which each of thefe confer, we fhall find that the former alone can render the intercourse of the citizens juft and confcientious, but that the last gives that gentility, that elegance, that refinement, which are next to be defired. The one infpires lofty courage and intrepid ardour against the invafion of an enemy; the other exerts himself to annihilate that barbarifin which commits more extenfive ravages on the minds of men, which is the inteftine enemy of genius and literature, by the tafte which he infpires, and the good authors which he causes to be read. Nor do I think it a matter of little moment whether the language of a people be vitiated or refined, whether

the

the popular idiom be erroneous or correct. This confideration was more than once found falutary at Athens. It is the opinion of Plato, that changes in the dress and habits of the citizens portend great commotions and changes in the ftate; and I am inclined to believe, that when the language in common ufe in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by their ruin or their degradation. For what do terms ufed without skill or meaning, which are at once corrupt and mifapplied, denote but a people liftlefs, fupine, and ripe for fervitude? On the contrary, we have never heard of any people or ftate which has not flourished in fome degree of profperity as long as their language has retained its elegance and its purity. Hence, my Beneditto, you may be induced to proceed in executing a work fo ufeful to your country, and may clearly fee what an honourable and permanent claim you will have to the approbation and the gratitude of your fellowcitizens. Thus much I have faid not to make you acquainted with that of which you were ignorant, but becaufe I was perfuaded that you are more intent on serving your country than in confidering the juft title which you have to its remuneration. I will now mention the favourable opportunity which you have, if you with to embrace it, of obliging foreigners, among whom there is no one at all confpicuous for genius or for elegance who does not make the Tufcan language his delight, and indeed confider it as an effential part of education, particularly if he be only flightly tinctured with the literature of Greece or of Rome. I who certainly have not merely wetted the tip of my lips in the ftream of thofe languages, but in proportion to my years, have swallowed the moft copious draughts, can yet fometimes retire with avidity and delight to feaft on Dante, Petrarch, and many others; nor has Athens itself been able to confine me to the tranfparent wave of its Iliffus, nor antient Rome to the banks of its Tiber, fo as to prevent my vifiting with delight the ftream of the Arne, and the hills of Fæfolæ. A ftranger from the fhores of the fartheft ocean, I have now spent fome

days