PART07.TXT

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        THE REWARDS OF TRAVEL









        _To Lafayette_



        _Nice, April 11, 1787_









        Your head, my dear friend, is full of Notable things; and being



better employed, therefore, I do not expect letters from you.  I am



constantly roving about, to see what I have never seen before, and



shall never see again.  In the great cities, I go to see what



travellers think alone worthy of being seen; but I make a job of it,



and generally gulp it all down in a day.  On the other hand, I am



never satiated with rambling through the fields and farms, examining



the culture and cultivators, with a degree of curiosity which makes



some take me to be a fool, and others to be much wiser than I am.  I



have been pleased to find among the people a less degree of physical



misery than I had expected.  They are generally well clothed, and



have a plenty of food, not animal indeed, but vegetable, which is as



wholesome.  Perhaps they are over worked, the excess of the rent



required by the landlord, obliging them to too many hours of labor in



order to produce that, and where-with to feed and clothe themselves.



The soil of Champagne and Burgundy I have found more universally good



than I had expected, and as I could not help making a comparison with



England, I found that comparison more unfavorable to the latter than



is generally admitted.  The soil, the climate, and the productions



are superior to those of England, and the husbandry as good, except



in one point; that of manure.  In England, long leases for twenty-one



years, or three lives, to wit, that of the farmer, his wife, and son,



renewed by the son as soon as he comes to the possession, for his own



life, his wife's and eldest child's, and so on, render the farms



there almost hereditary, make it worth the farmer's while to manure



the lands highly, and give the landlord an opportunity of



occasionally making his rent keep pace with the improved state of the



lands.  Here the leases are either during pleasure, or for three,



six, or nine years, which does not give the farmer time to repay



himself for the expensive operation of well manuring, and therefore,



he manures ill, or not at all.  I suppose, that could the practice of



leasing for three lives be introduced in the whole kingdom, it would,



within the term of your life, increase agricultural productions fifty



per cent; or were any one proprietor to do it with his own lands, it



would increase his rents fifty per cent, in the course of twenty-five



years.  But I am told the laws do not permit it.  The laws then, in



this particular, are unwise and unjust, and ought to give that



permission.  In the southern provinces, where the soil is poor, the



climate hot and dry, and there are few animals, they would learn the



art, found so precious in England, of making vegetable manure, and



thus improving these provinces in the article in which nature has



been least kind to them.  Indeed, these provinces afford a singular



spectacle.  Calculating on the poverty of their soil, and their



climate by its latitude only, they should have been the poorest in



France.  On the contrary, they are the richest, from one fortuitous



circumstance.  Spurs or ramifications of high mountains, making down



from the Alps, and as it were, reticulating these provinces, give to



the vallies the protection of a particular inclosure to each, and the



benefit of a general stagnation of the northern winds produced by the



whole of them, and thus countervail the advantage of several degrees



of latitude.  From the first olive fields of Pierrelatte, to the



orangeries of Hieres, has been continued rapture to me.  I have often



wished for you.  I think you have not made this journey.  It is a



pleasure you have to come, and an improvement to be added to the many



you have already made.  It will be a great comfort to you, to know,



from your own inspection, the condition of all the provinces of your



own country, and it will be interesting to them at some future day,





to be known to you.  This is, perhaps, the only moment of your life



in which you can acquire that knowledge.  And to do it most



effectually, you must be absolutely incognito, you must ferret the



people out of their hovels as I have done, look into their kettles,



eat their bread, loll on their beds under pretence of resting



yourself, but in fact to find if they are soft.  You will feel a



sublime pleasure in the course of this investigation, and a sublimer



one hereafter, when you shall be able to apply your knowledge to the



softening of their beds, or the throwing a morsel of meat into their



kettle of vegetables.









        You will not wonder at the subjects of my letter: they are the



only ones which have been presented to my mind for some time past;



and the waters must always be what are the fountains from which they



flow.  According to this, indeed, I should have intermixed, from



beginning to end, warm expressions of friendship to you.  But,



according to the ideas of our country, we do not permit ourselves to



speak even truths, when they may have the air of flattery.  I content



myself, therefore, with saying once for all, that I love you, your



wife and children.  Tell them so, and adieu.



 



        Yours affectionately,















        "THE GRAND RECIPE FOR FELICITY"









        _To Martha Jefferson_



        _May 21, 1787_









        I write to you, my dear Patsy, from the Canal of Languedoc, on



which I am at present sailing, as I have been for a week past,



cloudless skies above, limpid waters below, and find on each hand a



row of nightingales in full chorus.  This delightful bird had given



me a rich treat before at the fountain of Vaucluse.  After visiting



the tomb of Laura at Avignon, I went to see this fountain, a noble



one of itself, and rendered for ever famous by the songs of Petrarch



who lived near it.  I arrived there somewhat fatigued, and sat down



by the fountain to repose myself.  It gushes, of the size of a river,



from a secluded valley of the mountain, the ruins of Petrarch's



chateau being perched on a rock 200 feet perpendicular above.  To add



to the enchantment of the scene, every tree and bush was filled with



nightingales in full song.  I think you told me you had not yet



noticed this bird.  As you have trees in the garden of the convent,



there must be nightingales in them, and this is the season of their



song.  Endeavor my dear, to make yourself acquainted with the music



of this bird, that when you return to your own country you may be



able to estimate it's merit in comparison with that of the mocking



bird.  The latter has the advantage of singing thro' a great part of



the year, whereas the nightingale sings but about 5. or 6 weeks in



the spring, and a still shorter term and with a more feeble voice in



the fall.  I expect to be at Paris about the middle of next month.



By that time we may begin to expect our dear Polly.  It will be a



circumstance of inexpressible comfort to me to have you both with me



once more.  The object most interesting to me for the residue of my



life, will be to see you both developing daily those principles of



virtue and goodness which will make you valuable to others and happy



in yourselves, and acquiring those talents and that degree of science



which will guard you at all times against ennui, the most dangerous



poison of life.  A mind always employed is always happy.  This is the



true secret, the grand recipe for felicity.  The idle are the only



wretched.  In a world which furnishes so many emploiments which are



useful, and so many which are amusing, it is our own fault if we ever



know what ennui is, or if we are ever driven to the miserable



resource of gaming, which corrupts our dispositions, and teaches us a



habit of hostility against all mankind.  We are now entering the port



of Toulouse, where I quit my bark; and of course must conclude my



letter.  Be good and be industrious, and you will be what I shall



most love in the world.  Adieu my dear child.  Yours affectionately,















        AFFAIRS OF DIPLOMACY









        _To John Adams_



        _Paris, July 1, 1787_









        DEAR SIR -- I returned about three weeks ago from a very



useless voiage.  Useless, I mean, as to the object which first



suggested it, that of trying the effect of the mineral waters of Aix



en Provence on my hand.  I tried these because recommended among six



or eight others as equally beneficial, and because they would place



me at the beginning of a tour to the seaports of Marseilles,



Bourdeaux, Nantes and Lorient which I had long meditated, in hopes



that a knowlege of the places and persons concerned in our commerce



and the information to be got from them might enable me sometimes to



be useful.  I had expected to satisfy myself at Marseilles of the



causes of the difference of quality between the rice of Carolina and



that of Piedmont which is brought in quantities to Marseilles.  Not



being able to do it, I made an excursion of three weeks into the rice



country beyond the Alps, going through it from Vercelli to Pavia



about 60 miles.  I found the difference to be, not in the management



as had been supposed both here and in Carolina, but in the species of



rice, and I hope to enable them in Carolina to begin the Cultivati...
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