om repining at this superiority laughed within
himself at the ridiculous ambition of the pedantic doctor. He rated him
in his own mind as a mere index-hunter, who held the eel of science by
the tail, and foresaw an infinite fund of diversion in his solemnity and
pride, if properly extracted by means of his fellow-traveller's
vanity and assurance. Prompted by these considerations, he resolved to
cultivate their acquaintance, and, if possible, amuse himself at their
expense in his journey through Flanders, understanding that they were
determined upon the same route. In this view he treated them with
extraordinary attention, and seemed to pay particular deference to the
remarks of the painter, who, with great intrepidity, pronounced judgment
upon every picture in the palace, or, in other words, exposed his own
nakedness in every sentence that proceeded from his mouth.

When they came to consider the Murder of the Innocents by Le Brun,
the Swiss observed, that it was un beau morceau, and Mr. Pallet
replied,--"Yes, yes, one may see with half an eye, that it can be
the production of no other; for Bomorso's style both in colouring
and drapery, is altogether peculiar: then his design is tame, and his
expression antic and unnatural. Doctor, you have seen my judgment of
Solomon; I think I may, without presumption--but, I don't choose to make
comparisons; I leave that odious task to other people, and let my works
speak for themselves. France, to be sure, is rich in the arts; but
what is the reason? The king encourages men of genius with honour and
rewards; whereas, in England, we are obliged to stand on our own feet,
and combat the envy and malice of our brethren. Egad! I have a good mind
to come and settle here in Paris. I should like to have an apartment in
the Louvre, with a snug pension of so many thousand livres."

In this manner did Pallet proceed with an eternal rotation of tongue,
floundering from one mistake to another, until it was the turn of
Poussin's Seven Sacraments to be examined. Here again, the Swiss, out
of the abundance of his zeal, expressed his admiration, by saying these
pieces were impayable; when the painter, turning to him, with an air of
exultation, "Pardon me, friend, there you happen to be mistaken: these
are none of Impayable's; but done by Nicholas Pouseen. I have seen
prints of them in England, so that none of your tricks upon travellers,
Mr. Swiss or Swash, or what's your name." He was much elated b