which throws tropical vegetation over the stern realism of
crag and precipice; the mixture of the wildest features of Nature with
its softest and most intoxicating influences,--all these anomalies,
unexplained even by the proximity of the itself inexplicable Gulf
Stream, combine to form a perfect and most desirable whole. Nor is this
description over-colored or the offshoot of the latter-day caprice that
has made of the place a fashionable resort. The very name of the State
suggests that of a classic island famed for its atmosphere; and as
Verrazano, writing in 1524, compares Block Island to Rhodes, it is
possible that hence arose its title. Neal in 1717, and the Abbe Robin
in 1771, both speak of Newport as the Paradise of New England, and
endorse its Indian appellation, Aquidneck, or the Isle of Peace.
Berkeley, dean of Derry, who came here in 1729 full of zealous but
utopian plans of proselytism, writes of it that "the climate is warmer
than Italy, and far preferable to Bermuda" (his original destination).
Indeed, it is to the good man's enthusiasm for Newport that we owe his
burst of poetical prophecy, "Westward the course of empire takes its
way."

If the staid and reverend Berkeley, he whom Swift, writing to Lord
Carteret, recommends as "one of the first men in the kingdom for
learning and virtue," and of whom Pope exclaims, "To Berkeley every
virtue under heaven," found here this fascination, what wonder that
more excitable pilgrims of Latin blood made of it a Mecca? The French
particularly came often to Newport in early colonial days, and have
left jottings of their stay and the pleasure it afforded them. Monsieur
de Crevecoeur visited it in 1772, and found delight in its natural
beauties. He notes the bay and harbor, the approach to which he
considers remarkably fine, and admires the acacia and plane trees which
line the roads, all of which, unfortunately, were destroyed during the
Revolution. The young attache of the French legation of to-day, who
chafes at the diplomatic duties which delay his shaking off the dust of
Washington for the delights of Newport, hardly comprehends how much
heredity has to do with his appreciation of it. He does not stop to
think, as he sips his post-prandial coffee at Hartman's window, of the
line of French chivalry that a century ago made their favorite
promenade by the spot where he now sits. His mind, running on Mrs.
A----'s ball or Mrs. B----'s lawn-tennis, is far from dreaming