Lille 207 



roads, well planted, surround and pass off in different directions, 

 as if from a capital town, umbrageous enough to form pro- 

 menades against a hot sun, and the river splits and divides into 

 so many streams, and is conducted with so much attention that 

 it has a delicious effect, especially to an eye that recognises all 

 the fertihty of irrigation. To the fountain of Vaucluse, which is 

 justly said to be as celebrated almost as that of Helicon. Cross- 

 ing a 3lain, which is not so beautiful as one's idea of Tempe, the 

 mountain presents an almost perpendicular rock, at the foot of 

 which Is an immense and very fine cavern, half filled with a pool 

 of stagnant, but clear water, this is the famous fountain; at 

 other seasons it fills the whole cavern, and boils over in a vast 

 stream among rocks; its bed now marked by vegetation. At 

 present the water gushes out 200 yards lower down, from beneath 

 masses of rock, and in a very small distance forms a considerable 

 river, which almost immediately receives deviations by art for 

 mills and irrigation. On the summit of a rock above the village, 

 but much below the mountain, is a ruin, called by the poor 

 people here the chateau of Petrarch — who tell you it was in- 

 habited by Monsieur Petrarch and Madame Laura. The scene 

 is sublime; but what renders it truly interesting to our feelings 

 is the celebrity which great talents have given it. The power of 

 rocks, and water, and mountains, even in their boldest features, 

 to arrest attention and fill the bosom with sensations that 

 banish the insipid feelings of common life — holds not of in- 

 animate nature. To give energy to such sensations it must 

 receive animation from the creative touch of a vivid fancy: 

 described by the poet, or connected with the residence, actions, 

 pursuits, or passions of great geniuses, it lives, as it were, per- 

 sonified by talents, and commands the interest that breathes 

 around whatever is consecrated by fame. To Orgon. Quit 

 the pope's territory by crossing the Durance; there view the 

 skeleton of the navigation of Boisgelin, the work of the Arch- 

 bishop of Aix, a noble project, and where finished perfectly well 

 executed ; a hill is pierced by it for a quarter of a mile, a work that 

 rivals the greatest similar exertions. It has, however, stood 

 still many years for want of money. The vent de bize gone, and 

 the heat increased, the wind now S.W. my health better to a 

 moment, which proves how pernicious it is, even in August. — 

 20 miles. 



30//J. I forgot to observe that, for a few days past, I have 

 been pestered with all the mob of the country shooting: one 

 would think that every rusty gun in Provence is at work killing 



