it might, perhaps, be pleasing to a certain variety of minds to expatiate at leisure over the immortal fields of fable, and the scenes of actions which man is still proud to have performed; and if I abstain from entering upon the subject, it is not from any indifference to its charms, or that I want faith in its powers to produce, if properly handled, the same effect upon others which it has long exercised over me. But this is not the place to indulge in themes of this kind. Biography rejects all pictures of such a description, and requires narrative; and accordingly I proceed with the history of our traveller’s labours.
In the course of his visits to the Grecian islands he beheld the famous Grotto of Antiparos, so eloquently described by Tournefort. Their opinions respecting its wonderful construction did not, as might very well be expected, agree; but if the botanist exaggerated, I think the young antiquarian underrated its richness and grandeur, probably from a desire to check his ardent imagination, or by an ill-timed application of his philosophy. From thence, touching at Skyros in his way, he proceeded to Lemnos, Mitelin, Scio, Samos, Patmos, and Rhodes, and thence into Asia Minor. Here he commenced operations with the ruins of Telmissus, in ancient Lycia. He sketched the sarcophagi, the Necropolis, the tombs, theatre, and other antiquities; and having also drawn up an account of his researches, and a description of the existing ruins, set off through Caria towards the river Mæander, and Ephesus, and Smyrna, and Troy. Throughout the whole of this incomparably interesting route, the same lavish researches were undertaken and conducted with vast expense and perseverance. But on arriving upon the plains of Troy, his exertions, everywhere enthusiastic, appeared to be redoubled. Choiseul-Gouffier was an impassioned admirer of Homer. No other poet, in fact, ever possesses so firm a hold upon the youthful mind as this ancient bard, because no one paints so truly those boiling passions which prevail in youth, and with which all men sympathize, until age or some other cause damps their energy, and makes them, as Shakspeare expresses it, “babble of green fields,” and tranquillity, and security, and civilization.
For the admirers of Homer, our traveller’s researches in the ancient empire of Priam must possess more than ordinary charms. Having to the best of his ability determined the extent and limits of the Trojan territories, he fixes the site of the city, and traces to their sources the rivers Simois and Scamander. He then presents the reader with views of the most remarkable spots in the neighbourhood of the city, which are either mentioned by Homer, or referred to by celebrated writers of later date; Mount Gargarus, the camp of the Greeks, the tombs of Ilus, Achilles, and Patroclus.
On his return to France he laboured assiduously at the arranging of the rich and various materials which he had collected during his travels. An author, and, above all, a traveller of distinguished rank, is always secure beforehand of a flattering reception. Choiseul-Gouffier experienced this truth. Fearful lest their compliments should come too late, and be paid, not to his rank, but to his merit, the members of the Académie des Belles-Lettres, in obedience, says M. Dacier, to the public voice, elected our traveller a member of their body in the room of Mons. Foncemagne in 1779, before the publication of the “Voyage Pittoresque de la Grèce.” This splendid work, which was at least equal to any thing which had been published of the kind, and in many respects superior, was expected with impatience, and read on its appearance with avidity. Praise, which in France is but too lavishly bestowed upon noble authors, was now showered down in profusion upon our traveller. He, however, deserved high commendation. The design of the work was in itself exceedingly praiseworthy, and its execution, whether we consider the literary portion or the embellishments, highly honourable to the taste and talents of the author. Barthélemy, in such matters a judge inferior to none, conceived so favourable an opinion of his accuracy, that he in many instances appealed to his authority in his “Travels of Anacharsis.”
What tended still more powerfully to promote the success of the “Voyage Pittoresque de la Grèce” than all these praises was, the lively, elegant style in which it is composed. Although the polished simplicity of the preceding age had already begun to give way before laborious struggles after strength and originality, Choiseul-Gouffier belonged rather to the old than the new school. His learning a profession, which young men are rather apt to display than to hide, was not very profound, I suspect, in 1782, when the first volume of his travels appeared; and therefore the more credit is due to him for his moderation in the use of it. But I am far from thinking, with M. Dacier, that he purposely masked his acquirements, from the fear of frightening away the men of the world. He was not, as I have already observed, unmindful of the modern Greeks. Convinced that, next to the love of God, patriotism, expressed in Scripture by the love of our neighbour, is the best foundation of national and individual happiness, our traveller was vehement in his exhortations to the Greeks to recover their liberty. He even pointed out to them the means by which this was to be effected. He appealed to the priests, as to those who exercised the most powerful influence over the popular mind, to sanctify the enterprise; and, by associating the spirit of religion with that of liberty, to inspire their flocks with the zeal of martyrs by spiritual incitements or menaces.
In 1784 the success of the first volume of his travels threw open to him the doors of the French Academy, where he was elected to fill up the vacancy occasioned by the death of D’Alembert. The circumstances attending his reception into this celebrated literary body were particularly flattering. Never, according to the records of the times, had there been collected together a more numerous or more brilliant assembly. The discourse of the traveller was finely conceived, and executed with ability. The subject was, of course, determined by usage; it was the eulogium of his predecessor. Having, according to custom, by which all such things are regulated, occasion to allude to the birth of D’Alembert, he executed this delicate part of his task in a manner so judicious and manly, that from a circumstance, in itself unfortunate and dishonourable, he contrived to attach additional interest to the memory of his predecessor. “And yet,” said he, “what was this celebrated man, whom Providence had destined to extend the boundaries of human knowledge? You understand me, gentlemen; and why should I hesitate to express what I consider it honourable to feel? Why should I, by a pusillanimous silence, defraud his memory of that tribute which all noble minds are fond to pay to unfortunate virtue and genius in obscurity? What was he?—An unhappy, parentless child, cast forth from his cradle to perish, who owed to symptoms of approaching death and the humanity of a public officer the advantage of being snatched from amid that unfortunate multitude of foundlings, who are kept alive only to remain in eternal ignorance of their name and race!”
It was on this occasion that he received one of those compliments which men of genius sometimes pay to each other, and which, when deserved, are among the most cherished rewards that can be granted to distinguished abilities. Delille, whom he had long numbered among his friends, eagerly seized upon the opportunity which was now offered him of expressing his admiration of his enthusiasm and taste. He accordingly drew forth from his pocket a splendid fragment of his poem entitled “Imagination,” which was not published until twenty years afterward, and read it to the academy. It related to Greece, which Choiseul-Gouffier had visited and depicted. He represents the forlorn genius of that ancient country singling out from among the crowd of ordinary travellers one young lover of the arts, recommending to his notice the glory of her ancient monuments and brilliant recollections, and promising him as his reward the academic palm in a New Athens. The verses, in spite of the national vanity of comparing Paris with Athens, and some other defects which I need not pause to point out, are highly poetical and beautiful; and the reader will not, I think, regret to find them here subjoined.
Hâte toi, rends la vie à leur gloire éclipsée
Pour prix de tes travaux, dans un nouveau Lycée
Un jour je te promets la couronne des arts.