through me causes me ennui long before it is accomplished. Here you must take up with one party or another, and help them to carry on their feuds and cabals; and you must praise these artists and those dilettanti, disparage their rivals, and, above all, be pleased with everything that the rich and great do. All these little meannesses, then, for the sake of which one is almost ready to leave the world itself,—must I here mix myself up with them, and that, too, when I have neither interest nor stake in them? No: I shall go no farther than is merely necessary to know what is going on, and thus to learn in private to be more contented with my lot, and to stifle the desire, in myself and others, of going out into the dear wide world. I wish to see Rome in its abiding and permanent features, and not as it passes and changes with every ten years. Had I time, I might wish to employ it better. Above all, one may study history here quite differently from what one can on any other spot. In other places one has, as it were, to read one's self into it from without; here one fancies that he reads from within outwards: all arranges itself around you, and seems to proceed from you. And this holds good, not only of Roman history, but also of that of the whole world. From Rome I can accompany the conquerors on their march to the Weser or to the Euphrates; or, if I wish to be a sightseer, I can wait in the Via Sacra for the triumphant generals, and in the meantime receive for my support the largesses of corn and money, and so take a very comfortable share in all the splendour.
Men may say what they will in favour of a written and oral communication: it is only in a very few cases indeed that it is at all adequate; for it never can convey the true character of any object soever,—no, not even of a purely intellectual one. But if one has
