ards did: one was, myself being in question in the
affair, and private interest, whence nothing great or noble ever
proceeded, could not draw from my heart the divine soarings, which the
most pure love, only of that which is just and sublime, can produce. The
other was the charm of friendship which tempered and calmed my wrath by
the ascendancy of a more pleasing sentiment. I had become acquainted at
Venice with a Biscayan, a friend of my friend Carrio's, and worthy of
being that of every honest man. This amiable young man, born with every
talent and virtue, had just made the tour of Italy to gain a taste for
the fine arts, and, imagining he had nothing more to acquire, intended to
return by the most direct road to his own country. I told him the arts
were nothing more than a relaxation to a genius like his, fit to
cultivate the sciences; and to give him a taste for these, I advised him
to make a journey to Paris and reside there for six months. He took my
advice, and went to Paris. He was there and expected me when I arrived.
His lodging was too considerable for him, and he offered me the half of
it, which I instantly accepted. I found him absorbed in the study of the
sublimest sciences. Nothing was above his reach. He digested everything
with a prodigious rapidity. How cordially did he thank me for having
procured him this food for his mind, which was tormented by a thirst
after knowledge, without his being aware of it! What a treasure of light
and virtue I found in the vigorous mind of this young man! I felt he was
the friend I wanted. We soon became intimate. Our tastes were not the
same, and we constantly disputed. Both opinionated, we never could agree
about anything. Nevertheless we could not separate; and, notwithstanding
our reciprocal and incessant contradiction, we neither of us wished the
other to be different from what he was.

Ignacio Emanuel de Altuna was one of those rare beings whom only Spain
produces, and of whom she produces too few for her glory. He had not the
violent national passions common in his own country. The idea of
vengeance could no more enter his head, than the desire of it could
proceed from his heart. His mind was too great to be vindictive, and I
have frequently heard him say, with the greatest coolness, that no mortal
could offend him. He was gallant, without being tender. He played with
women as with so many pretty children. He amused himself with the
mistresses