I was no longer excited by the
desire of distinction; what I regarded most tenderly was in the grave,
and, to take a metaphor derived from the change produced by time in the
juice of the grape, my cup of life was no longer sparkling, sweet, and
effervescent;--it had lost its sweetness without losing its power, and it
had become bitter.

After passing a few months in England and enjoying (as much as I could
enjoy anything) the society of the few friends who still remained alive,
the desire of travel again seized me. I had preserved amidst the wreck
of time one feeling strong and unbroken: the love of natural scenery; and
this, in advanced life, formed a principal motive for my plans of conduct
and action. Of all the climates of Europe, England seems to me most
fitted for the activity of the mind, and the least suited to repose. The
alterations of a climate so various and rapid continually awake new
sensations; and the changes in the sky from dryness to moisture, from the
blue ethereal to cloudiness and fogs, seem to keep the nervous system in
a constant state of disturbance. In the mild climate of Nice, Naples, or
Sicily, where even in winter it is possible to enjoy the warmth of the
sunshine in the open air, beneath palm trees or amidst evergreen groves
of orange trees covered with odorous fruit and sweet-scented leaves, mere
existence is a pleasure, and even the pains of disease are sometimes
forgotten amidst the balmy influence of nature, and a series of agreeable
and uninterrupted sensations invite to repose and oblivion. But in the
changeful and tumultuous atmosphere of England, to be tranquil is a
labour, and employment is necessary to ward off the attacks of ennui. The
English as a nation is pre-eminently active, and the natives of no other
country follow their objects with so much force, fire, and constancy.
And, as human powers are limited, there are few examples of very
distinguished men living in this country to old age: they usually fail,
droop, and die before they have attained the period naturally marked for
the end of human existence. The lives of our statesmen, warriors, poets,
and even philosophers offer abundant proofs of the truth of this opinion;
whatever burns, consumes--ashes remain. Before the period of youth is
passed, grey hairs usually cover those brows which are adorned with the
civic oak or the laurel; and in the luxurious and exciting life of the
man of pleasure, their tints are not e