ork, which they are under a necessity of performing.

Though calm and fully master of himself, Paoli is animated with an
extraordinary degree of vivacity. Except when indisposed or greatly
fatigued, he never sits down but at meals. He is perpetually in motion,
walking briskly backwards and forwards. Mr. Samuel Johnson, whose
comprehensive and vigorous understanding, has by long observation,
attained to a perfect knowledge of human nature, when treating of
biography has this reflection. "There are many invisible circumstances
which, whether we read as enquiries after natural or moral knowledge;
whether we intend to enlarge our science, or increase our virtue, are
more important than publick occurrences. Thus Sallust the great master
of nature, has not forgotten in his account of Catiline, to remark, that
'his walk was now quick, and again slow,' as an indication of a mind
revolving something with violent commotion."[122] Ever mindful of the
wisdom of the "Rambler," I have accustomed myself to mark the small
peculiarities of character. Paoli's being perpetually in motion, nay his
being so agitated that, as the same Sallust also says of Catiline,
"Neque vigiliis, neque quietibus sedari poterat. He could not be quieted
either by watching or by repose," are indications of his being as active
and indefatigable as Catiline, but from a very different cause. The
conspiratour from schemes of ruin and destruction to Rome; the patriot
from schemes of liberty and felicity to Corsica.

[Footnote 122: "Rambler," number 60.]

Paoli told me that the vivacity of his mind was such, that he could not
study above ten minutes at a time. "La testa mi rompa. My head is like
to break," said he. "I can never write my lively ideas with my own hand.
In writing, they escape from my mind. I call the Abbe Guelfucci, Allons
presto, pigliate li pensieri. Come quickly, take my thoughts; and he
writes them."

Paoli has a memory like that of Themistocles; for I was assured that he
knows the names of almost all the people in the island, their
characters, and their connections. His memory as a man of learning, is
no less uncommon. He has the best part of the classicks by heart, and he
has a happy talent in applying them with propriety, which is rarely to
be found. This talent is not always to be reckoned pedantry. The
instances in which Paoli is shewn to display it, are a proof to the
contrary.

I have heard Paoli recount the revolutions of one of the