312 A TOUR ROUND MY GARDEN. 



laurel, which only grows in the shade of other trees, and the 

 representation of which we meet with upon ancient medals 

 and monuments. 



The laurel, as it is said, was foi-merly a safeguard against 

 thunder : in this respect, it appears to me to have been ad- 

 vantageously displaced by the lightning conductor; it has 

 never been a safeguard against envy or hatred, which, on the 

 contrary, it seems to attract with an invincible power: the 

 true crown of genius has always been a crown of tlioms, — ^but 

 of that beautiful perfumed thorn which blooms in the spring, 

 and which conceals its ensanguined spikes beneath its festoons 

 of white flowers. 



Aaother reputation enjoyed by the laurel was, that of pro- 

 curing agreeable dreams, by the placing of some of its leaves 

 under the pillow; a saying which I mean to put to the test 

 one of these nights. 



Now-a-days, all greatness and power are overthrown, under 

 the pretext of equality. Equality is an absurdity; but if 

 possible it would be desirable that it should be sought for, 

 rather by elevating the low than by abasing the great, as is 

 the fashion ; by raising the strawberries and hazels to the 

 height of oaks, instead of cutting down the oaks to a level 

 with the strawbeiTies and the hazels ; but man is not so 

 much the enemy of slavery as he pretends to be. 



Kings and men of genius are cast into the mire ; but we 

 worship singers and dancers ; not only those that are beau 

 tiful, which is after all a great superiority, a great power and 

 a legitimate royalty, natural and incontestable ; but also the 

 most meagre, the most ugly, the most yellow among them ; 

 and simply because they are singers and dancers. Formerly 

 they were paid with money and diamonds; now we heap 

 flowers upon them, and drag their carriages through the 

 streets. 



Everything is for them, even consideration. I should now- 

 a-days be laughed at, if I said that which is incontestable, 

 that the poorest and humblest wife of an artisan or mechanic 

 is a thousand times above the richest, the most beautiful, and 

 the most skilful of these women ; lower than whom I cao 

 discover none but the imbeciles who worship them and crown 

 them with flowers and love. 



