[Footnote 1:  The sign of the Hercules’ Pillars remained in Piccadilly till very lately.  It was situated on part of the ground now [1798] occupied by the houses of Mr. Drummond Smith and his brother.—­MISS BERRY.  That is, on the space between Hamilton Place and Apsley House.  It was the inn mentioned in Fielding’s “Tom Jones,” and was notorious as a favourite resort of the Marquis of Granby.]

Now I’ll answer your questions.

I have made no discoveries in ancient or modern arts.  Mr. Addison travelled through the poets, and not through Italy; for all his ideas are borrowed from the descriptions, and not from the reality.  He saw places as they were, not as they are.[1] I am very well acquainted with Doctor Cocchi;[2] he is a good sort of man, rather than a great man; he is a plain honest creature, with quiet knowledge, but I dare say all the English have told you, he has a very particular understanding:  I really don’t believe they meant to impose on you, for they thought so.  As to Bondelmonti, he is much less; he is a low mimic; the brightest cast of his parts attains to the composition of a sonnet:  he talks irreligion with English boys, sentiment with my sister [Lady Walpole], and bad French with any one that will hear him.  I will transcribe you a little song that he made t’other day; ’tis pretty enough; Gray turned it into Latin, and I into English; you will honour him highly by putting it into French, and Ashton into Greek.  Here ’tis.

    Spesso Amor sotto la forma
    D’amista ride, e s’asconde;
    Poi si mischia, e si confonde
    Con lo sdegno e col rancor.

    In pietade ei si trasforma,
    Par trastullo e par dispetto,
    Ma nel suo diverso aspetto,
    Sempre egli e l’istesso Amor.

    Risit amicitiae interdum velatus amictu,
      Et bene composita veste fefeliit Amor: 
    Mox irae assumpsit cultus faciemque minantem,
      Inque odium versus, versus et in lacrymas: 
    Sudentem fuge, nec lacrymanti aut crede furenti;
      Idem est dissimili semper in ore Deus.

    Love often in the comely mien
    Of friendship fancies to be seen;
    Soon again he shifts his dress,
    And wears disdain and rancour’s face.

    To gentle pity then he changes;
    Thro’ wantonness, thro’ piques he ranges;
    But in whatever shape he move,
    He’s still himself, and still is Love.

[Footnote 1:  Compare Letter to Zouch, March 20th, 1762.  Fielding says ("Voyage to Lisbon”) that Addison, in his “Travels,” is to be looked upon rather as a commentator on the classics, than as a writer of travels.]

[Footnote 2:  Antonio Cocchi, a learned physician and author at Florence, a particular friend of Mr. Mann.—­WALPOLE.  He died in 1758.]

See how we trifle! but one can’t pass one’s youth too amusingly; for one must grow old, and that in England; two most serious circumstances either of which makes people grey in the twinkling of a bed-staff; for know you, there is not a country upon earth where there are so many old fools and so few young ones.