[Letter VI]

As we proceeded on our route, we traversed woods which shaded a soft green turf; we forded little brooks, or climbed small hills covered with myrtles, sage, and rosemary. The sun which falls direct on these unsheltered and uncultivated spots, almost burns them, rendering the odours of the plants still more strong, and drinking up their balsamic emanations, which rise like the incense of gratitude to the great Creator. I gave way to the beauty of the scene, and, plunged into contemplative thought, I made no answers but in monosyllables to my young guide; and he, on his side, withdrawing himself, instigated no doubt by the chaunting of the birds, began gaily to sing those beautiful airs which the people of this land so much delight in, and the melodious simplicity of which is truly charming. What is that natural taste which is found only in Italy, where every simple villager, every child that sings is accompanied immediately by the bye-standers with such taste and judgment? In joining their voices the same air is continued, not in the same tones, but with the melody of different parts. Whence does that tact arise, that nice and delicate perception, which enables them to catch the most harmonious notes, and to reject every false tone? They know not the rules of music; they are ignorant of the lowest principles of composition, yet they form combinations which indicate the finest skill, and seem the effect of a sort of instinct.