lmost make us
blush for our country, and the cause of intelligence over the world.
The Russian Emperor, who unquestionably has the power of licensing or
prohibiting any of his subjects to travel at his own pleasure, is said
to concede the liberty only to the men of intelligence and ability in
his dominions; the fools are all obliged to remain at home. Hence the
high reputation which the Muscovites enjoy abroad and the frequent
disappointment which is felt by travellers of other nations, when they
visit their own country. It is evident, from the character of the
books of travels which every spring issue from the London press, with
a few honourable exceptions, that no such restraining power exists in
the British dominions. We have no individuals or particular works in
view in these observations. We speak of things in general. If any one
doubts their truth, let him enquire how many of the numberless travels
which annually issue from the British press are ever sought after, or
heard of, five years after their publication.

Our annual supply of ephemeral travels is far inferior in point of
merit to the annual supply of novels. This is the more remarkable,
because travels, if written in the right spirit, and by persons of
capacity and taste, are among the most delightful, and withal
instructive, species of composition of which literature can boast.
They are so, because by their very nature they take the reader, as
well as the writer, out of the sphere of every-day observation and
commonplace remark. This is an immense advantage: so great indeed,
that, if made use of with tolerable capacity, it should give works of
this sort a decided superiority in point of interest and utility over
all others, excepting History and the higher species of Romance.
Commonplace is the bane of literature, especially in an old and
civilized state; monotony--the thing to be principally dreaded. The
very air is filled with ordinary ideas. General education, universal
reading, unhappily make matters worse; they tend only to multiply the
echoes of the original report--a new one has scarce any chance of
being heard amidst the ceaseless reverberation of the old. The more
ancient a nation is, the more liable is it to be overwhelmed by this
dreadful evil. The Byzantine empire, during a thousand years of
civilisation and opulence, did not produce one work of original
thought; five hundred years after the light of Athenian genius had
been extinguished, the