who had fought a hard battle, who was much
wounded, who was beaten to the ground, and who with difficulty could
lift himself up, it would not be reasonable to ask him to get his hair
well drest, and to put on embroidered clothes. Corsica has fought a hard
battle, has been much wounded, has been beaten to the ground, and with
difficulty can lift herself up. The arts and sciences are like dress and
ornament. You cannot expect them from us for some time. But come back
twenty or thirty years hence, and we'll shew you arts and sciences, and
concerts and assemblies, and fine ladies, and we'll make you fall in
love among us, Sir."

He smiled a good deal, when I told him that I was much surprised to find
him so amiable, accomplished, and polite; for although I knew I was to
see a great man, I expected to find a rude character, an Attila king of
the Goths, or a Luitprand[107], king of the Lombards.

[Footnote 107: Liutprand. See Gibbon's "Decline and Fall," chap.
xlix.--ED.]

I observed that although he had often a placid smile upon his
countenance, he hardly ever laughed. Whether loud laughter in general
society be a sign of weakness or rusticity, I cannot say; but I have
remarked that real great men, and men of finished behaviour, seldom fall
into it.

The variety, and I may say versatility, of the mind of this great man is
amazing. One day when I came in to pay my respects to him before dinner,
I found him in much agitation, with a circle of his nobles around him,
and a Corsican standing before him like a criminal before his judge.
Paoli immediately turned to me, "I am glad you are come, Sir. You
protestants talk much against our doctrine of transubstantiation. Behold
here the miracle of transubstantiation, a Corsican transubstantiated
into a Genoese. That unworthy man who now stands before me is a
Corsican, who has been long a lieutenant under the Genoese, in Capo
Corso. Andrew Doria and all their greatest heroes could not be more
violent for the republick than he has been, and all against his
country." Then turning to the man, "Sir," said he, "Corsica makes it a
rule to pardon the most unworthy of her children, when they surrender
themselves, even when they are forced to do so, as is your case. You
have now escaped. But take care. I shall have a strict eye upon you; and
if ever you make the least attempt to return to your traiterous
practices, you know I can be avenged of you." He spoke this with the
fierceness of a li