THE RESOLUTION RESOLVED UPON.

VIVACITY is contagious.

"You are certainly right (said I), Amelia. I once more feel that I have looked at my object in the wrongest point of view. It deserves a fairer situation; and I am now resolved to place it in a lib [...]ral [Page 2] light. The health which you have prayed for, I anticipate joyfully, and with it I expect the rosy cheek, the sparkling eye, and that chearful alacrity, which runs unfatigued through the amusements or business of the day. In your eulogy on the capital of France, I forget the phlegm of a studious, gloomy, Englishman, and drive in the airy chariot of fancy, over the rugged pavement of a crouded city, pleased at the sight of so many thousand new faces, and not at all disgusted either with the rattle of fashion, or the tumult of trade.

[Page 3]See, my dear Amelia! see, in these sudden alterations, the true nature of the heart!"

There passed over my cheek, at this instant, one of those transient burnings, which makes nature blush for shame at her own inconsistency: but I would not give a sixpence for an author who produces not some­thing for the heart, even in a com­ment upon its weaknesses.

"Pshaw (said I) what a misfor­tune is it to be hypochondriacal: or rather what an hypochondriac is man, take him even at the soundest [Page 4] period of his health. Set but his passions afloat; give but the loose rein to his desires, or let him but walk in the way of his system, and the varying wind, the arrant moon, and the shifting cloud, are all sta­bilities in the comparison: how peevish, how playful, how irreso­lute, how resolved; without reason disgusted, and with as little cause put again into humour."

"And can all these changes (ex­claims the calm stander-by); can all these changes take place in travelling somewhat slower than a foot-pace, only from London to Dover?"

[Page 5]Ah, censurer, have a care! Be­ware least the accusation be brought home to yourself. How would the story run, if thou wert here, with faithful Biography, to set down the particulars of thy own day? De­pend on it the journal of thy heart, in its journey through every six hours of life, is too full of Quixotism, phantasm and vagary; and too well stored either with light or serious innovations, to assert a superior claim to constancy: and, even should there be the meanest son of merchandise, that ever traded hard for the turn of the penny, on thy own side of the scale, still I insist [Page 6] upon it thou canst not have any right to cast the first stone.

The thread of this remonstrance is cut short by almost a page, in order to bring forward a circum­stance which it is consonant to the system of these travels, in this very place and in no other, to admit.

Just as I was beginning to wonder how I could find so many argu­ments pro and con, in regard to this journey to France, and bestow­ing a smile upon the heart, which, since it beat in the Hotel at Dover, had shifted from one point to another, much often than the [Page 7] streamer, which, at the head of the mast was still inclined the same way, a specimen of France, in the shape of a nimble-footed artist for the modern human face, entered my room, with three skips of courtesy, and (being pre-invited) proceeded to give my chin the smirkness of the present taste.

The mechanical drudgery of shaving, however, was by no means his business, and I soon found the taking off my beard was purely an urbanity, which, being the first I ever received from a French hair­dresser, and done with due regard [Page 8] to the graces, I, the more readily, entered into conversation.

"You have been in France (said I), young man?"

"I am there at this instant Monsieur;" replied he.

"The duce you are! (said I). How long is it, then, since Dover was added to the dominions of Louis? Perhaps you will be pleased to al­low too, that I am your prisoner at this instant!"

"Sans doute, Monsieur, while under my hands: but that hits not off; [Page 9] my meaning the best part of me— my heart is certainly at this blessed moment in Paris."

"In what part of it, prithee, is this treasure deposited?"

"Ah mon Dieu (said the lad), what a question? It beats Monsieur, up five pair of stairs in the Faux­bourgs St. Marceau, in the beautiful bosom of Felicity. A very lofty lodging, perhaps, you may think; but I like it the better for that. It is thereby so much the nearer to the Heavens, to which Felicity belongs."

[Page 10]Another such an enigma as this, would have occasioned an emotion which might untie the knot of it to some purpose, especially as the Frenchman was now beginning to flourish his razor under my throat.

"Felicity! (said I, putting back his hand, as if to ward off the razor till my curiosity was satis­fied); I am afraid, friend, you are addicted to that contemptible spe­cies of wit, which in England, we call the Conundrum."

[Page 11]"What I tell you, Monsieur, is simply and solemnly true: my heart is in the bosom of my Felicity, who, in the very quarter I told you, occupies one little cabinet which is to me more decent than the palace of Versailles; and as to wit, in good faith Monsieur, the story of Felicity is too tender and too sad to permit any thing like it."

Though the system of some tra­vellers might, at such a time as this, lead them into the bedcham­ber, to make the most of the two or three hours which remained, [Page 12] before the sailing of the packet-boat, yet was it agreeably to my system, to listen attentively to the story of the French Barber's un­happy Felicity! To say the truth, there was every thing in the air and manner of this paradox, to keep awake the curiosity both of Amelia and myself; so I desired the supper, which had been ordered, might be kept back a little, that we might have him and his Felicity all to ourselves.

"If you will draw your comb leisurely through my hair, young man (said I), and if there is not, in the relation, something too [Page 13] painful to be repeated, I could wish to know—

"Ah Monsieur (replied the lad interrupting me, and pointing his razor to his own throat, having now done with mine); the pain which this could give, by sending me of a sudden, into the grave of my fathers (who were all entitled to wear a ribbon in their button-holes, of no mean or undistinguished order) would be a mere bagatelle to the very thought of relating my sufferings! Upon that intolerable subject therefore vous aurez lá bontè de me pardonner."

[Page 14]Though my curiosity was more heightened, my compassion got the better of it, and I only asked the name of this unfortunate.

He bowed very respectfully, and repeated his last sentence.

This was as much as any man could decently bear, and I think Amelia exerted the utmost fortitude of female philosophy, that she contented herself with a short ejacu­lation!

"My good and great God!" said the.

[Page 15]The Frenchman was, by this time, putting into order the left side lock, and I felt the comb, as he brought it backwards and forwards, tremble under his hand. In the bended attitude in which he stood to dress me, my eye was, of ne­cessity, confined to the top part of his waistcoat, which being thrown open, I discovered, through the aperture of his shirt-bosom, the cross of a catholic, and a small oval some­thing, hanging together.

This something could certainly be made nothing of, while, as was now the case, it remained on [Page 16] the wrong side. My heart was again at the end of my fingers, and I would have given the universe to untwist it. Luckily for Amelia it was out of her sight, and so from pure regard to her quiet, I kept the torment all to myself: twice I made advances towards the inserted oval, and twice I drew back my hand at the check of sighs which were heaved from the heart of a Frenchman. Had the gate of Paradise been closed full in my face, it could not have thrown me into greater perplexity!

[Page 17]"You are very young?" said I.

"Just old enough to be acquainted with misery: (cried the barber); for, till three weeks ago, I danced through every street of Paris, and was at once the merriest and the happiest man in the city—Yes, be my witness, mon bon Dieu, I was the happiest of men!"

Blessed be the poor fellow's heart for dictating this asseveration! for, in making it, he pressed his hand, with the warmest veneration, upon the cross, and turned the oval.

[Page 18]It proved to be a little varnished piece of rose-coloured composition, studded with sparkling stones, with the miniature of a female, having the best-natured set of features in the world, in the centre of it.

At this critical moment, guided by my ill stars, which were resolved to teaze me, the youth left my side locks, and withdrew to those which were behind. With what ineffable fervor did I then wish that every villainous hair which had contri­buted to my disappointment, might instantly fall from the head, upon [Page 19] which they were unworthy to hang.

Be the reader ever so angry, I cannot, in justice to the heart, which is fully concerned in every syllable of this story, get on with it faster.

When circumstances which en­gage the heart, are playing at cross-purposes with it, and every faculty of the brain is on the stretch for accommodation of our wishes, how often that accommo­dation is brought about to the hearth's absolute content, by some slight manoeuvre, of all others the least expected!

[Page 20]"A mighty pretty picture that Monsieur!" said Amelia. I turned short about with inconceivable quick­ness, as if the expedient was hit off by a miracle.

Surely the very Devil himself delayed me in this business. I had scarce turned about, before the Frenchman turned himself round also, and was standing with his back towards me, while he held down his head.

"Was ever man so tormented?" said I."

"Gracious Heaven!" said Amelia.

[Page 21] "Oh Ciell" (exclaimed the French­man. He still kept his attitude: but, soon recovering himself, he again begged my pardon, and ad­dressing Amelia with a hesitating voice—

"Yes, Madam, this picture— this picture — this — this — this — pic—pic—pict—ure (here his heart destroyed his language), this pic— ture—I say, is the picture of my unfortunate Felicity!"

"A woman, after all!" cried Ame­lia, striking her hands together!

[Page 22]"And in distress!" said I, looking at the lad.

"Even so, (said the Frenchman, pressing the cross and kissing the picture); even so".

Where the heart is affected by sorrows of a soft and social kind, it is next to an impossibility to be long silent. Such sorrows burst of their own accord into language, and are always soothed by being trusted to the sympathy of those about us.

[Page 23]The Frenchman was now touch­ed so thoroughly, that, as he pro­ceeded to finish my hair, he hummed a sort of sonnet under pretence of shewing us that all was well again; by which piece of finesse, his anxiety became, in reality, too big to be contained, and the story ran thus:

"Certainly, Monsieur, this is the picture of my Felicity, and I am banished from the presence of the dear creature, by a couple of accidents which, as I hope to be saved, could not be helped. Felicity, you must know, is cursed with a [Page 24] cruel father who drudges all day in his garret for gold, and so is an enemy to every thing but money. I was, for some time, his apprentice; and it was impossible to see his fair daughter pass backwards and for­wards by our work-shop, without despising gold, and admiring her beauty. Our hearts were just of the same sort, as they were of the same age; and we both lost all our French spirits, and grew as melancholy as your English people —you will pardon me Monsieur— about the same time. I had wit enough to know, that so surprising a change in us, could be wrought by nothing but love. We were [Page 25] both convinced of this, when we were mightily delighted by stealing a look, or a touch, or a soft kiss, while the old gold-beater's back was turned: but the bare truth of our mutual passion was, alas! put out of all doubt, when my master suffered us to pass a fine day at Marly; that is, if we were inclined to treat o [...]rselves.

The idea was so charming, that I sha [...]l never, no, never shall I forget it. I had saved up money to the amount of near thirty livres, and so I thought I was laying it out to the heart's best advantage, by hiring a handsome cabriolet [Page 26] for the whole day. I put my hair into order, hung on my sword, and walked forth with Felicity early in the morning, under pretence of having time to amuse her. Cer­tainly, we could have gone by a cheaper conveyance, but then there would, I foresaw, be inconveniences, equal to the cheapness. A common stage is often crouded with disa­greeable passengers, and, as Felicity is a fair creature, I thought it best to enjoy her company alone. Better had it been, however, if the ca­briolet had been at Paris, and I in my master's shop; for, as I told you before, a couple of accidents hap­pened, [Page 27] which, though they could not be avoided, turned out very fatally.

In the gardens of our beloved monarch at Marly, every body knows, there are lovers walks with­out number: the trees are so green, the streams are so clear, and there are so many fair figures of both sexes, in so many postures in dif­ferent places, tempting us in marble, (which scarce seem to want breath) that it is very wrong for two young French people, that love one ano­ther, to trust themselves amongst them. We got safe out of them, at the cost only of about a thousand [Page 28] sighs, and one or two tears of confession, which stole down the crimsoned cheek of Felicity, till I kissed it off. Neither was that kiss well timed; for it carried the crim­son, which was before confined to the face, quite down to the neck, till its flushing descended even to the bosom. Oh what a summer-night's sun shone upon our prospect, as we were returning. We had no interrupting domestic behind our carriage. The horses were ex­tremely gentle, and I drove them myself. Ah! that a coachman had been seated before us! What misery might have been prevented!

[Page 29]As fortune, however, would have it, I was, by some means, in­duced to take a sudden turn through a delightful lane (though I confess it was not upon the road to Paris), and, while I left the horses to graze upon the herbage that fertilized the banks, Felicity and I got down, with no other view in the world, than to pick out a bouquet of field-flowers, which grew amongst the corn. Ah fatal excursion! Let no two people, who have hearts, indulge themselves in picking flowers out of a corn-field! 'How fruitful is this charming soil!' said I, sighing.

'Yes:' said Felicity, with a blush.

[Page 30]We were walking out, with our bouquet.

'Good God (said Felicity), if this high corn is not enough to throw one down.'

'There is no helping it:' replied I making a couch of the corn. Oh, Monsieur, our hearts were both so cruelly entangled, that we fell to the ground.

'Heavens! (said Felicity) if there is not a hare sitting on yonder hillock: how should I delight to have it in my bosom!'

[Page 31]He who loves, must endeavour to gratify her whom he admires. Not thinking, that, if I struck the animal, I should destroy the plea­sure Felicity wished, of nursing it in her bosom, I was fool enough to throw a large stone at my game, and I was unfortunate enough to kill it.

I put it into the box of my cabriolet and set forwards. How little did I supect that either this accident, or any other that might precede it, was overlooked! But alas! our very rout was watched, and we were doged to the door of the gold-beater, who was informed of a circumstance which put his daughter under lock and key, and [Page 32] which subjected me to horrors both of soul and body, for which I have no language. The gold-beater shut me into a dark closet, in charge, while my detector posted away to the police. I now had the fear of slavery and the galleys before my eyes. My heart bled for Felicity, from whom I was separated. What was to be done? Fortune a little befriended! The lattice of the closet opened upon the lead-work of a neighbouring-house. I crept through it like a thief in the night; and, having the presence of mind to put on an old full-trimmed suit of my master's that hung upon a peg in the closet, I [Page 33] escaped along the roof and descend­ed into the street. You will excuse me for declining to reveal the means by which I reached Dover. Suffice it, that here I am one of the most wretched of men. I had always a smart way of managing the hair, and could scrape my own beard de­cently enough, so I took up the employment of a barber, or else I must have starved. But I am weary of my life, and I resolve very soon to go over the water again, let the consequence be what it will. My king is too good a man, and hath too great a heart, to persecute a poor fellow any longer, for killing a hare, to please a young woman with [Page 34] whom he was in love; and, as to Felicity herself, the last letter, which she found means to send me, intimated a circumstance which tells me that I should be no true French­man, and, indeed, not fit to live in any country, if I did not try, some way or an other, to make her, forthwith, my lawful wife. How this is to be brought about, I don't know; but my heart is at the con­trivance night and day!"

There was a colour in Amelia's cheeks, which appeared, at several periods of this little narrative, in disapprobation of the conduct as well as the conversation of the [Page 35] narrator: but there was a softness in her eyes, at some other parts of the relation, which shewed, that her modesty was not so much offended, but that she had virtue enough to forgive the transports of a lover!

THE EFFECTS OF CLIMATE.

THE poor barber had no sooner finished a story, which discovered so much of his own heart, and that of his country, than our ears were saluted with the full bold tones of a voice, issuing from the adjoining room, to the tune of, O the roast Beef of Old England; and, when that voice had done, up sprung another in a sharper and shriller key, singing forth, in a sort of extasy, The supreme Pleasures of Paris.

[Page 37]The barber was just about to take his leave as this invisible con­cert began; but sudden sounds always break the step short, and incline the ear towards them. To The roast Beef of Old England, though uttered with a swell of tone which beat an alarm to appetite, the barber paid a very slight atten­tion, and put his razor and combs into their cases with infinite com­posure; but every turn in the sonnet, which displayed The Pleasures of Paris, made a strong impression upon both his looks and limbs.

[Page 38] "Oh charmant! (said he) How much better does the Frenchman sing than the Englishman! For, you must know Monsieur, that Frenchman lived once within view of my Felicity's chamber window; and, as he passes, frequently from Calais to Paris, I now and then slip a billet into his hand, which he always delivers where it is directed: I love him for this; but I should love him better than any other man in Paris, were it only because he was lodged opposite to my Felicity's chamber window."

[Page 39]Here he bowed, respectfully, first to Amelia, then to me; and, after once more assuring me, that he thanked me for my promise to keep his secret, and that if I ever walked into the Fauxbourgs St. Marceau, and would direct my eyes upwards, they might stand the chance of being handsomely rewarded. He now softly chorused one of the lines in praise of Paris; and, be­twixt sighing and singing went out of the room.

The house-clock struck eleven, just as he departed; and some tra­vellers would have been two hours [Page 40] in bed, without the least idea of hair-dressing or story-telling, which may not seem necessary preparations for a voyage. But had I been asleep, I had missed many strokes of the heart, and I would purchase my knowledge of that, with a night's rest, at any time.

Upon the whole, my temper was now thoroughly sweetened. The picture of the human heart, in various attitudes and positions, had been exhibited before me. I saw plainly the tender attachment which every man had to his native country in general, and to that dear spot in particular, whether up five pair [Page 41] of stairs in the Fauxbourgs St. Marceau, or in the first floor of the royal palace where the treasure of the heart is deposited. I beheld, also, the uniform operations of pain and pleasure, upon every son and daughter of Adam, in every dif­ferent country. The history of the unfortunate Felicity convinced me, still more fully, of this cardinal truth, namely, that, although cus­toms may throw a different colour­ing over the character of nations, there is one silent language, uni­versally understood, and universally the same—the language of passion, and of the affections.

[Page 42]In such thoughts as these I passed another half-hour; and I venerate the memory of the poor barber for having led me into the train of them. They expanded, even to the utmost openings of phi­lanthropy, all the better principles within me: they purged the streams of life which issue from the heart, of all the remaining stains of prejudice, and they ran through my veins with a purer purple. No longer did I imagine it wrong to pass the boundaries of my own country, to visit my neighbours on the opposite shore. Amelia adopted the same sentiment upon the same principles. [Page 43] We both reconciled the idea of calmly beholding those ceremonies, which different nations employ, in adoring the same God. We exulted at the hope of knowing many amiable characters in a new coun­try; and lastly, instead of thinking upon a ship any longer as a mon­strous machine, that moved without any real necessity upon the face of the waters, we contemplated it as a structure equally useful and in­genious, and which owed its origin to God himself.

The conclusion of the matter was this: the heart bade the hand ring the bell with activity, and the [Page 44] porter, who obeyed its summons, was hurried off with the baggage to the packet, for, it was preparing to weigh anchor.

THE PASSAGE.

PASSAGE-BOATS, like stage­coaches, throw a man into societies and situations, equally characteristic and extraordinary. Let it, therefore, be some consolation to those, who are by fortune condemned to travel by such public conveyances, that they will see more of the heart, and all its humours and inclinings, in such situations, than if [...]hey were perched up alone, in all the uncom­fortable dignity of a coach and eight.

[Page 46]There were ample sources of entertainment in the groupes, which were presently crouded into the cabin. Every face carried strongly in it, the lines of a mental pecu­liarity, in favour of that sort of speculation whose object is—human nature. But, what was better still, every passenger, except ourselves, had been summoned from the sound sleep in which he had been buried, to a sudden resurrection.

Now, they who have made it their business to look inquisitively at nature, under all the appearances which she can possibly assume; [Page 47] they, who have correctly marked the changes she undergoes almost every moment in obedience to cir­cumstances great and small; they, also, who have taken an exact sur­vey of the human form at all hours, and upon all occasions, in order to pourtray, with some precision, the human heart; these all know that there is not in life a more ludicrous moment of physiognomy than that of strangers gathering together at midnight, when the senses, like their chief instruments, are more than half shut up, and when none of the sensations, even though many of them be new, can either be finished or compleat, It is, however, for [Page 48] the sake of perfect experience in nature, by no means displeasing to survey her thus, as it were, betwixt sleeping and waking.

Save Amelia's and mine, every heart, as well as every body in the packet-boat, was in a dose, and it may be observed, that, when nature hath not had her nap out, she is equally fretful, whimsical and way­ward. I defy the gloomiest ima­gination, under such circumstances, not to have been diverted. We were a mixture of many countries; and, our packet-boat, like the tower of Babel, resounded with the clangor of many tongues.

[Page 49]My eyes and ideas being all wide open, and broad awake, I sat my­self down in a corner of the cabin, and made my heart also sit down and hear all! but say nothing.

The cabin was stored with cha­racteristical contrasts. Opposite to me, sat one of those fearful and delicate beings, into the breath of whose nostrils seemed, at his birth, to have been poured more of the essence of lavender, than the spirit of vigorous life. It was enshrouded head and ears in coverings of the finest cambric, and its body was defended by a robe de chambre, [Page 50] lined with the spoils of the ermine: the thin texture of its voice might have suited the lungs of a lady in the last languors of a consumption; and the muff of sable, which ex­tended from side to side of him, might have, perhaps, been a ne­cessary companion in Siberia. As the thin texture of its voice dis­covered itself only by a cough, and as people cough, according to the strength or weakness of constitution, pretty much the same in all coun­tries, my heart, which was all the time looking at him, made no scruple to set him down as a Parisian petit maitre; when lo! before half a league's sailing, in the course of [Page 51] which happened many faintings and many complaints, of the cursed mistake of providence, in not suf­fering a man to go smoothly over the water, from one coast to another; this imaginary Parisian, proved to be a downright affected booby of English manufacture, who, having been once before in the capital of France, took a pride in shewing us that he had seen, mixed with, and imitated, only the most contemptible part of it.

About a yard to the right of this fool of quality, another person, of a very different appearance, had taken up his temporal residence. [Page 52] He was dressed in all that decent and undecorated simplicity upon which Englishmen particularly pique themselves. The suit upon his body was all of a colour; there was not a single flourish in the rimming; plain were the buttons on his coat exactly matching the cloth; plain the ruffles at his wrist which ad­mitted not the gaiety of an edging: his hair was in a plain queue; and such was his consistency, and so much was he all of a piece that his very stockings were orna­mented only with a small unem­bellished clock. Imagining this shivering neighbour, the fop, to be really near unto the gate of eternity, [Page 53] he administered to him, but with­out speaking, in his sickness: he applied the hartshorn, summoned the coxcomb's servants, and held their conceited master by the arm, when he was pleased to be in a fit. Amelia, in the rolling of the ship, slipped from her seat, and, before I could possibly arise from mine to her relief, this stranger with doubly my agility, replaced her in her chair.

Notwithstanding the miss I made, in regard to the native country of the coxcomb, I thought I should hazard nothing by suffering my heart to [Page 54] insist upon the honour of fixing this person's birth in Great Britain.

In five seconds after this sagacious conclusion, drawn from those, as I thought them, infallible premises of air, manner, dress, and person, the gentleman addressed Amelia upon the subject of her fall, in a way, which put it beyond all doubt that he was not an Englishman, but a Frenchman.

I next looked at a personage who seemed to have the legs of an Irish­man, who proved to be born in Germany. I saw a pair of shoulders set upon the back of another who I [Page 55] made no doubt was—cheifly because he gave them a sort of Scotch shrug —fresh from the Highlands, who turned out to be, on the very first information, of his tongue, a man of Kent.

In short, I had seen enough to convince me that, he who hath one single particle of prejudice, lurking in any one corner of his heart, or who judges of the whole, from a part, should be contented to sit in the smoke of his own chimney corner, and never look farther into the world, than he can see from his window.

[Page 56]Yet it is travel only which can make us citizens of the world: and it is impossible for any thing upon the face of the globe (but a fool of quality) who hath gone far into different nations, to put his trust, either in the colour of a coat, the turn of an ancle, or the shrug of a shoulder. Whoever does this will be deeply mortified, since he will confound all nations; and, instead of judging of their characteristic by strokes of the heart (which in little actions are always palpable), he will go blundering on in headlong pre­precipitancy to his own confusion, and to the ridicule of others.

[Page 57]Dress and size of body, may however, sometimes lead to a small passage that looks into the heart which is beating beneath them; but one unguarded action, and one sentence, apparently too little to shew much, is worth a thousand such external symptoms.

In the centre of the cabin, lolled, in separate chairs, but with hands generally united, two young Eng­lishmen, whose travelling hats cockaded it in the face of midnight; and who, pouring out bumpers of a cordial (which they brought with them) into very sizeable glasses, [Page 58] threw an arch eye at the moon whom they saw through a hatch-way that opened on the deck, and drank her health: after which, in the same strain of facetiousness, they desired, that she would have the civility to betake herself to bed, and that she would present their compliments to her master the sun, telling him that they should think his worship a very impudent scoun­drel, and very ill-mannered, seeing that he slept that night so near Paris, if he did not immediately put on his breeches.

At this sally of wit the different passengers were differently affected. [Page 59] The young gentlemen looked on all sides of them for laugh; but, per­ceiving the joke did not take, they were obliged, for the credit of the thing, to laugh themselves; and this laugh, under the sense of disap­pointment, produced such a strange mixed sound, that I am sure they could much easier have cried for mortification; for I will venture to lay it down as a maxim of the heart, that, not to laugh with me, goes nearer to the quick, and nettles much more than to laugh at me. Laugh at my glaring fol­lies, and I have no objection; but if your muscles are ill-natured, and obstinately fixed to the line of [Page 60] gravity when I give you, what I take to be, the pleasantest jest in the world, is an offence, of which my heart shall carry a resenting im­pression till its traces are all cut away by death.

So it was at present, and our young gentleman

he fop, whom I had taken for a Frenchman, coughed infinite dis­dain upon the joke, and sent his valet to demand of the captain of the packet-boat, if he conceived there was any joke in having the [Page 61] assurance to suffer a gentleman of his delicacy, to be blown to atoms by the cursed sea-winds which whistled in, at that superdamnable skylight?

The gentleman, whom I pro­nounced to be an Englishman, forced a courteous simper into his face, in order to soften the sense of our hero's misery; and, with the same activity by which he had assisted Amelia, went upon the deck, and shut the coxcomb's superdamnable skylight.

The German, with the Irish legs, was dropping into an agreeable [Page 62] dose, so that I really believe he was not within ear-shot of the joke; and, as to the man with the Scotch shoulders, who was not the Scotch­man, but the man of Kent, he sat kicking his heels, just as he had been kicking them for some time before, without any additional vi­gour in the strokes, against an empty barrel upon which he was elevated.

And yet I appeal to the reader if this single action of our young jesters', and the different air with which it was received by the com­pany, doth not afford, a more cer­tain clue to the heart, than any [Page 63] judgment that could possibly be formed, from a paltry speculation upon legs and shoulders, coats and waistcoats, the clock of a stocking, or the buckling of a shoe. Such conjectures are vague, and indeter­minate. The chance of hitting or missing is at least equal. Many men in all countries have large legs, and those who do not trust a common liar — such hath always been accounted common fame—and who judge not of a country by the specimen of a few clumsy chair­men; those know that the gentle­men of Ireland are, for the most part, elegantly formed. Many men, likewise, in all countries, shrug the [Page 64] shoulders, though the common liar, above mentioned, would confine the habit to the Scotch and French, neither of whom are more famous for it, in fact, than other people. Nor is dress more ascertaining than figure or size; for the apron and frock which we give to the butcher, may, perchance, belong to the grocer—so of other trades.

These mistakes, however, ori­ginate from our dramatic writers, who deceive us in drawing their characters. The Frenchman of the English theatre, and the English­man upon the stage of Paris, are perfect caracaturas. It is the same [Page 65] with respect to our exhibition of the Irish. The prodigious ruffles which we give — on the stage — to the French peasants and Parisian do­mestics, is a false trick which no playwrite can possibly put upon a real traveller; for the fact is, that the French footmen, like the Eng­lish footmen in great families, wear these ornaments of a common length; and, as to the French pea­sants, they all wear ruffles prodi­giously small (if you will allow so large a word to any thing so minute), and so far from the stage-ruffles allotted to valets, being representa­tives of the truth, I call upon every gentleman, who hath travelled be­yond [Page 66] the playhouses of England, to the real parts which are said to contain such preposterous exuber­ances of linen; I say, I call on them to witness for me, that, the poor Frenchman, who lives by his labour, scarcely suffers his ruffles to peep the third of an inch from his wristband; and I really think it would be doing but a bare justice to the nation if one was to carry over a real ruffle, as a pattern for future poets to cut out by.

I have here allowed a few pages to common observation, without design to interest the heart, but to correct the mistakes which writers [Page 67] have diffused over my native coun­try; and wherever the subject of simple information, with regard to customs, as well as manners, have been misrepresented, I shall certainly write down the actual truth for the reader's instruction.

Before I set out for France, I collected most of the volumes which have been written upon it; and I was so perfectly convinced that, as far as the matter of customs and country went, the subject was wholly pre-occupied, and that all remarks, in a similar track, would be repetition, that I was fully re­solved to turn my observations into [Page 68] another channel, and address my­self in a method, distinct from Sterne on the one hand, and mere men of brick and mortar, or ordi­nary describers of building, furni­ture, and fine sights on the other. In this task, as affording infinitely more entertainment, both to my readers and to myself, I proceed with infinitely more pleasure. But I have still found many ideas, which are popular in England with respect to France, exceedingly fallacious; and those ideas I shall, from time to time, take the liberty of correct­ing.

[Page 69]By leave of the reader's heart, which I will soon again attend to, I will take advantage of this apro­pos place to observe, that, it is not true with the regard to the notion we conceive of the French being, universally, a gay, giddy- looking peo­ple. That they may be most of them rakes at heart, and that they kindle into instant vivacity, as soon as they begin a conversation, is ad­mitted; but if you meet them in the street, in the way of their busi­ness, or even walking in the public gardens in parties, not in the ar­dours of society, I do not believe there is a sedater, not to say solemner, [Page 70] set of muscles in the whole world. The Abbes are distinguished by a sobriety of features which might become a mitre, nor is there any where less gaity or levity in the look than at Paris; I mean, so far at least, as relates to external appear­ance of both sexes.

It is a conception equally false we entertain, of the necessity an Englishman of taste is under, to equip himself, on his arrival at Paris, with cloaths of a mere fantastical cut and colour, a la Francoise, the plain truth being neither more nor less than this, that there never was any place where all sorts of people [Page 71] enjoyed, in the greatest degrees, all sorts of liberties in dress, and that, if a person would wish to adopt the very pink of the present taste at Paris, he would array himself in the dress he brings with him, as English fashions are, at this period, followed, both by men and women, almost to as great an excess of af­fectation, as French fashions at London: so that neither country can say one is more ridiculous than the other in that respect.

Amongst young people, the smart jockey-boot, leather-breeches, doe-skin gloves, and round beaver of Newmarket, are, I perceive, en­tirely [Page 72] the mode of an elegant un­dress; and to shew our young nobleman that they do not come over the water for nothing, I have the pleasure to assure them that, although it is the taste for most people to ride managed horses, an exercise and an art which fixes every limb erect and graceful, yet there are not wanting some strip­lings who imitate the lounging lean, and slope their backs into an arch over the shoulders of their steeds, as if they had really been educated in the stud of an English groom of condition.

[Page 73]Having now set the reader's head right as to some national particulars, I return to the incidents of the heart, which will, doubtless, please him much better. I allow that the above is a digression or at least that the intelligence is somewhat out of its place; for, in point of absolute and precise narration, I am but just stepping on French ground, after a brisk passage; and here have I been giving observations that be­long to Paris; but, methinks, the reader must have very little polite­ness if he murmurs forth any of his criticisms at this; for I only pro­mised to amuse his heart with such [Page 74] incidents as should fall in my way; and, therefore, all which ex­ceeds this promise, and which re­lates to mere matter of fact senti­ment, in regard to other travellers, is absolute favour, and given, out of the free spirit of my courtesy, into the bargain. Travelling, really, expands the heart.

CALAIS.

THE two young jokers hap­pened to go to the same hotel that I did. The coxcomb in the wrap­ping cloaths, was carried gently off in a chair to Monsieur Dessein's, and the real French gentleman bowed politely to the whole com­pany, and walked away to a private house.

Without choosing to enter into any more jokes at present, I with­drew to my chamber; and, what perhaps your chimney-corner cha­racters [Page 76] will not give credit to, slept as soundly, as softly, and as much to my heart's content, in the bed and in the land of an enemy, as if my apartment was under the protection of my natural sovereign. The sun too, beamed benignity and brightness into my chamber, in the morning, as if to welcome me, and tempt me to pursue my journey without further interruptions.

I accepted his radiant invitation and arose. Amelia breakfasted with me and the jokers, for whom I am indebted for some admirable hints, touching the origin of what is [Page 77] called the imposition of French inn­keepers.

It is common enough for travellers, on the same road, to communicate their business the one to the other. But the twin jesters were remark­ably reserved upon this subject, owing, very probably, to the im­possibility of speaking about it; for where men have really the true no-meaning in setting out for a long journey, it is truly difficult to dis­close their motives. The most undesigning nothingness brought our youths from London to Calais, and the same undesigning nothing­ness will, I doubt not, carry them [Page 78] back again. After looking at them, however, very intently almost half an hour, and turning their hearts on all sides, I discovered that, if they had any ray of plot in this excursion, it was that which might lead foreigners to think very despicably of English prudence, and to do their native country, and all future travellers an injury, by acting like madmen at every stage.

For example:

One of them took a glittering purse from his waistcoat, pocket and, with too uncompressed and liberal a hand, shook it at the ear of his [Page 79] companion as much as to say, "Here it is my friend, here it is: the golden key which shall unlock all the curiosities, toys, and cabinets of France. This will we dedicate my lad to pleasure, politeness, and Paris!"

Here Amelia was obliged to hem and gingle her coffee-cup to pre­vent the risings of a virtuous in­dignation.

The youth who was in all the glory of his triumph, observed, by this time, some poor aged creatures of both sexes, who pick their scanty livelihood from the bounty [Page 80] of travellers, curtsying and bow­ing, with petitioning eyes and bending heads, at the windows of the hotel.

The opportunity of joking never escapes the man whose heart lieth in wait for it; and he hath the art of extracting a joke very often from a tale of misery, or an incident that would afflict the tender fools of nature with the agonies of grief. The jester, with the purse, ran to the window, near which was a large table upon which he spread out, in tempting array, several guineas, to the tune, perhaps, of about two hundred. The hearts [Page 81] of every mendicant flew up in­stantaneously into his face. A soft suffusion of blood coloured, for a moment, the countenance of age; hope sparkled in the eye of Despair, and every hand shook even to palsy with expectation.

I was fool enough to imagine that all this preparation indicated a generous action; and Amelia was so perfectly persuaded of it that she set down her cup, and opened the window, that even so transparent an obstacle as a few panes of glass, might not lie in the way of the young gentleman's libe­rality.

[Page 82]Alas! this was nothing more than the ceremony which preceded a joke. Our hero set the table at two yards distance, and desired them to take what they fairly could by stretching forth their arms from the window.

The poor creatures shook their heads at the impossibility of the thing. A little boy, half naked, de­clared that he would stand on his head and tumble a whole hour for a single sous.

The jester wittily said, that he would give him neither a sow nor [Page 83] a pig, unless he could reach it. Finding no one attempted this, he put the money again into the purse, and walked with it to the window.

"Now (said Amelia) I hope you will pay the honest people for the anxiety you have given them."

"Certainly madam (cried the youth); you shall now see that I can do a genteel thing to the ho­nour of England, which is, after all, the only England in the whole world."

[Page 84]Saying this, he opened the purse and bade the little boy put in his head and eat guineas till his belly was full of them; but the joke of this circumstance laid, in an endeavour to pinch the poor child's nose, by tightening the strings when he had made an effort to succeed. A second stroke of wit, consisted in offering one, who looked like a Jew, a guinea, if he would suffer our hero to cut off his beard; and one jest of superlative brightness was reserved for an insult upon a woman bent double by age, and whose cheeks were ploughed by the fur­row of time into wrinkles. Our [Page 85] generous young gentleman pro­mised to give her an ortolon if she would promise to chew it. Here the jest lay in the poor creature's having lost all her teeth. He then proposed that she should have, for her own use, as many livres as he could put into her wrinkles, provided that she hobbled off with them to her own house without letting them drop, in which case they were to be his who should find them. The famine-struck wretch, urged by the pleadings of nature, understood enough of his bad French to com­prehend this strange proposal, and said she complied with it, and I do actually believe he would have [Page 86] gone on with the joke till he had lined her face with silver, though he had stuck every livre into her cheek, at the price of her pain and blood. This, I say, he most likely would have done, had not the tender­hearted Amelia run again to the window, while the colour of true shame for her countrymen came into her face, and, out of her own pocket, dispensed to every petitioner a trifle, and advised them to depart in peace.

This action interrupted the course of my countryman's humour, and, by way of polite revenge, he put his hand passionately into his purse [Page 87] and discharged several guineas at the heads of the mendicants as they were departing. Thus, for once, a very excellent circumstance of joy to the unfortunate, arose out of an action in which the heart had no share.

For my own part, I sallied out into the street, and stood guard while the scramble was over; for I did not doubt but when the squan­derer cooled, he would be mean enough to cast a longing, lingering look after that money, which he had lavished while he was warm.

[Page 88]Amelia's heart smiled in her face upon this occasion, and the bucks consoled themselves, with observ­ing, that the lady might laugh, but she had been the means of spoiling a good joke for all that.

Yes, yes, thought I—the reason is plain—it is to such lovers of pleasure and politesse as these we may attribute those impositions, of which sober and sensible travellers complain. Such striplings who are inclined to wander, and cursed with a fortune which allows the means of doing it, having no settled plan either of acting or thinking, come [Page 89] into a foreign country, and distin­guish themselves by the splendor of mischief. They can find a ravish­ing pleasure in taking out a bag full of Louis when they want only a livre. They are pitiful enough to imagine there is a dignity in the display of money, and so let every man look into the bottom of the pocket at once. They have the pleasure also to exert the spirit of an Englishman as they term it, at every inn upon the road, and the still small request would make the waiter tender his services full as well, yet Englishmen of spirit deal their commands vociferously about them, and issue their ridiculous [Page 90] orders at the utmost extent of the voice. These brisk young gentle­men, also, concentre the sublime of their delight, in the clatter of carriage-wheels, the crack of whip­cord, and the delicious clatter of a couple of dozen iron shoes, struck forcibly by half a dozen horses against a rugged pavement, and I am in doubt whether the circum­stance of the French roads being stoney, hath not, as much as any thing else, contributed to render them popular, in the estimation of the helter-shelter race of travellers: for every body, who is acquainted with the ambition of our English youths, can tell, that, it's last master-stroke [Page 91] consist, in passing rapidly, within the breadth of a barley-corn, by another carriage; and he who can turn a corner quicker, and shorter, than an hackney-coachman, hath arrived at such an excellence, as entitles him to incontested supe­riority.

Men of spirit too we have amongst us, in whom shoots up the spirit of travel, who feel the po­litesse in all its poignancy, from seeing a couple of postillions in their laced jackets, with half a dozen brutes, have the honour to enter a city before the men of spirit them­selves, and they take to themselves [Page 92] all that stare and admiration which is paid to the number of horses, and to the ornaments of the equi­page. The joy of such too, arises from doing the very action of which a rational traveller would be a­shamed; for they admire the poli­tesse of paying so respectable a piece of money as a French crown, because an Englishman, forsooth, ought, for the honour of his country, to despise all connection with such morsels of money, as pass in ex­change of a single livre upon the Continent.

The innkeeper sees all these prodigalities, and hath generally [Page 93] enough of the world about him, to make out his bill according to the conduct of his customers. He per­ceives that every English booby, who is broke from school, or the apron-string of his mother, gets a weak father's consent to make up a purse, with which he is to make himself more extensively ridiculous. Hence it is, that the disgrace of prodi­gality is marked as the characteristic of our country; from which im­putation the honest travellers, who are contented with a pair of horses, and a decent dinner, decently or­dered in a quiet articulation, which bespeaks us at peace with all men; hence, I say, it is, that those tra­vellers [Page 94] who are low-thoughted enough, to separate the gold from the silver, and the silver from the copper, can, with difficulty, rescue themselves from ignominy.

Amelia was surveying our heroes with one of those looks, which denote the displeasure of the heart, when the youngest started up with that so [...]t of agility, which is usually the characteristic of people, whose heels and heads are equally light, swearing that it thundered as if Heaven and earth were coming, by mutual consent, together! The waiter appearing, decided a wager of fifty guineas (that were staked [Page 95] on the table by these British dis­putants) one of whom asserted it was the noise of a waggon, and the other, as hath been observed, that it was thunder. It proved to be neither; for the real cause of the sound shewed itself in a few mi­nutes, and proved to be the stage­coach or diligence from Calais to Paris, which, at that instant, was, as I imagined, about to set off for the city. The appearance of this ve­hicle was a source of infinite wit to our jokers, one of which insisted that he had won his wager, for that it was, to all intents and purposes, a waggon, and a very ugly, ill-contrived waggon into the [Page 96] bargain: the other wit maintained that he also was willing to abide by his bargain, since he would be judged by me, Amelia, and the whole world, whether the thing, which now darkened the window, and half the street, was not a great deal more like a cloud, out of whose womb issued thunder, than either a stage-coach or a waggon?

"This (said I to Amelia) is the lucky moment! We shall now get rid of our troublesome countrymen. You may be assured they have too much English blood in their veins to be dragged to Paris in this stage­coach, this waggon, or this thun­der; [Page 97] while they, therefore, are dis­puting what to call it, let us go and secure seats in this very ma­chine, however unweildy, and, if possible, pay our quota unnoticed, and be gone.

There is a good degree of hazard in obeying, implicitly, the first im­pulses; and, except in cases of pity and kindness, where a worthy object is waiting for one's liberality, I scarce know a single instance, in which it is not best to wait, for the suffrage of second thoughts. A man, however, is so plaguely fond of a fresh idea, the moment it is started, that he dances about with [Page 98] it, as a fond mother might be sup­posed to gad about with the first­born, for the pride of shewing the little idol to her friends.

I went incontinently into the street, followed by the master of the hotel; and, finding that two places were to be had, and only two, I caught at them with the greatest avidity, paid down my money chearfully, without paying any regard to the clumsy construc­tion of the conveyance, and shaped into the parlour again, as having finished the business charmingly.

[Page 99]One trip generally brings on another; and I have observed that, when either man or horse is set in for stumbling, it is well if he does not come to the ground. "I have just hit it Amelia (said I), and, as good luck will have it, there were but two places vacant."

Two words, mal-a-propos, set the heart totally wrong. I be­trayed the whole project; for the English wits saw that I wanted to quit their company.

"But two places! (echoed they); then will we ride upon the coach-box." [Page 100] Upon hearing there was no coach-box, to a French stage-coach, "Then (said they) will we ride in the basket; for travel from Calais to Paris, in some part or other of that monstrous machine, we assuredly will, even though we were to mount each of us a miserable steed behind those miserable postilions."

As soon as it was determined upon, that these bundles of British wit were to be part of our luggage, I heartily repented of my hasty en­gagement; but it was too late, and too awkward a crisis to retract: so I whispered Amelia that I did not doubt, but that, even this incon­venience [Page 101] might have its counter­balance of amusement some way.

"All for the best:" said Amelia.

The English striplings now ex­hibited another specimen of English prudence, in the manner of dis­charging their bill. They had many jocular strokes to make upon the size, form, figure, and variety of the French coin, none of which had the good fortune to escape a joke and a censure: a Louis, they said was, when compared with a guinea, a mean, pitiful piece that looked French in every line, and mark of the impression. They [Page 102] had the sagacity to find out, that the fulness and plenitude of flesh, re­presented on the guinea, was per­fectly characteristic of King George, and his dominions; while, in the profile of Louis, as well as in the arms of that young monarch, they discovered something, they could not exactly tell what, which belonged to the French nation. The French crown, they confessed, was noble-sized, did it not resemble, in some respects, the uncouthness of the diligence, nor had they any ob­jection to the small silver coins, except that they were palpably mere copies of the good, honest English sixpence. As to the copper coins, [Page 103] they wholly renounced and exe­crated the whole groupe, swearing that they were fit for no earthly thing in the universe, unless to drive into the head of an impertinent waiter, who should have the au­dacity to shew that he was a man, after he had been treated as a brute.

During this scene of wit, Amelia was dealing forth her charity to a poor Franciscan, who was addressing her heart through the window: turning short, therefore, to the jokers, she pointed with her finger to the friar: "And can you not conceive, gentlemen (said she, in a very tender [Page 104] tone and turn of countenance); can you not conceive some good and amiable use, to which even the smallest of the pieces of money you so much abuse might be put? Behold, gentlemen, how those two windows are surrounded by the sons and daughters of Poverty! Your hearts are there solicited, in every form, and in every attitude! Can you possibly survey those ob­jects, and say the French money is inconvenient? For my part, I can conceive every thing that is excel­lent of that monarch, or that man, who first divided a single half crown, into so many parts, each of which are so extremely commodious to [Page 105] the purposes of benevolence! Ah, gentlemen, have you not yet tra­velled far enough in the world, to know that, what is to you a trifle, may, to your neighbours, be a matter of importance? The journey of life, (if you will admit, for a moment, a woman's allegory) is made steep by a thousand hills, dangerous by a thousand declivities, and rugged by as many narrow, or desert passages. What a variety of travellers are wearied, worn, and harrassed upon the road! Is your purse stored with French small pieces of money, what a favourable moment to shew the largeness of the heart! Great circumstances shall spring from [Page 106] small beginnings; and half a sous, and even a liard, shall, sometimes, bind up the wounds of the soul, and be, as it were, a crutch to help the enfeeled invalid upon his way."

The jokers, as soon as Amelia had done, thanked her for her very excellent discourse, as they termed it, upon Poverty, French Coin, and Charity; and, when they paid their bill, directed the waiter to carry a few sous to the gentleman with the bald head and bare feet, to go a little way, towards buying him a night cap and slippers.

CALAIS.

THERE was a mistake at the bottom of all this hurry: the machine was not to set out till the next morning early, and it was now but just arrived from Paris; so that we had three parts of a day upon our hands, and it was the contrivance of our hearts, to em­ploy it apart from the men of wit; but this was impossible.

By this time the poor mendicant had come round from the window into the parlour, and made his [Page 108] desires known to our striplings, part­ly by his patience in teaching them French, and partly by his label of intelligence in English, which hung at his girdle; which, according to the rules of his order, was decorated with a rope.

He invited us to visit his con­vent; a common courtesy, which is paid indiscriminately to all travellers on their first arrival.

The wits went for a joke, and Amelia, with me, for the heart. Be assured, reader, some admirable spe­cimens of English humour were shewn off at the church of the con­vent. [Page 109] The Franciscan bent the knee, and pressed the bosom, as he passed the crucifixes, which were in several parts of the church: the wits fol­lowed his example in every thing, but the appearance at least of sin­cerity. The friar unlocked a large range of drawers, out of which he took the robes, roses, and other or­naments, which are made use of at the altar, on days which are set apart for extraordinary ceremonies. The Franciscan held these with a cautious hand: Amelia looked at them with the reverence and discretion which decency requires upon every religi­ous occasion. I considered them, for my own part, as well-intended [Page 110] decorations; but the jokers found out a pleasant simile, and likened every order of the priesthood, to so many different-coloured trappings of a coach-horse on my Lord Mayor's day, attended ludicrously by a reti­nue of long-robed liverymen. The two large lights, which were burning on each side a silver-lamp, before the principal crucifix in the centre of the altar-piece, our young gentle­men observed, would do most ad­mirably for a pair of torches to trail behind a carriage, if any method could be hit upon to make them flame with a little more spirit; "But fie upon them (cried the jokers), they are not lively enough for any [Page 111] thing but a pack of half-starved mendicant friars, or to shed a sort of darkness, visible, round the vault of our great-grandfather." The Franciscan next took us, by a narow flight of steps, into a long gallery, on each side of which were the humble lodgings of his fraternity. He opened a little door which led into his own, and pointed, with a meek and patient action of the fin­ger, to his couch of straw. The casement of the window (half over which clung slips of ivy) might be about the size of a single pane of a modern sash, and it was defended by bars of iron. It seemed, indeed, to be the very cabinet of mortification [Page 112] and self-denial; but the English jesters declared, it was the worst kennel for those foxes in sheeps' cloathing, the parsons, they ever beheld. This simile bore so hard upon the brotherhood, that our Fran­ciscan (who, by the bye, understood too much English, to be insensible of a downright insult in coarse lan­guage), turned round to our com­panions, and was going to ad­dress them, when, happening to turn his eye towards a cross, upon which his God was extended, in the atttitude of suffering the last indig­nity, after almost every other had been discharged against him, he bowed submissively to the figure, as [Page 113] if he had just caught from it the spirit of acquiescence, and the colour, which indignation had before brought from the heart to the cheek, went off, and put a check to whatever might have happened. Every nerve that I had was shaken; and, leaving Amelia a moment to amuse herself with the prospect of the garden of the convent, through the little lattice in the friar's apart­ment, I drew the venerable monastic gently aside into the gallery, and there, in a whisper, apologized for the liberties which were taken by our young, inexperienced travellers, who desired to appear more impious than they really were.

[Page 114]The mendicant made no reply; but, as if he had heart enough to forgive all trespasses against him, whether of malice or ignorance, he smiled ineffable benignity, and we again joined the company.

Here, to the increase of my di­stress, I found Amelia in a warm ar­gument with our young gentlemen, upon the subject of a decent deport­ment at places of public worship. The contest, it seems, began upon an expedient started by the eldest, to make a covering for the nakedness of the figure upon the cross, in the room of the friar; for, our delicate [Page 115] Englishman insisted, that, unless some such circumstance took place, a cru­cifix was no fit object for female in­spection; he, therefore, humbly made a motion, that the company would unanimously enter into a voluntary subscription, to make up such a sum, as would purchase a compleat suit of cloaths (not forgetting a little sparkle of tinsel in the French style) that the Deity might, in future, appear in the dress of a gentleman.

In support of this vein of ridicule, the youth was just holding his hat to Amelia for her subscription, as we came into the room, and Amelia was parrying off the stroke, partly [Page 116] by blushes and partly by arguments. "Is it not very strange, gentlemen (said she), that a woman cannot be one moment unprotected, in any corner of the globe, however sanc­timonious, but she must be in­sulted by the rudeness of her own countrymen." She had no time to go on: the rage of the Fran­ciscan, at the sight of the crucifix, over which the wit had thrown his pocket-handkerchief, was worked into a pious enthusiasm, and his heart dictated to our striplings a very severe and seasonable lesson.

"Be covered in the blushes of confusion, gentlemen! (said he). [Page 117] What principle is it by which you are thus directed to disgrace your­selves and your country? We are taught to believe, that, on your side of the sea, the seminaries of education are governed by laws that are wise, prudent, liberal and amiable. We are taught, that the education of an English gentle­man, is attended with a very con­siderable expence: morals, and humanity, it is said, are particu­larly cultivated in your univer­sities. We gather these things, I say, from the report of those, who would emblazon the institu­tions of your country; but, if re­port is to be confronted by expe­rience, [Page 118] what doth experience tell us on this subject? This town of Calais hath been but too often a witness to your libertinism. Hither you come over with youth, high spirits, and a sum of money, for the most part too large for the feelings of a moderate man. The British empire is so truly respec­table, as a nation, that we, who are your neighbours, wish to ad­mire your politeness as much as we venerate your genius. But how is this possible, when the specimens which are exhibited to us of your manners, are so frequently cruel and unmanly? You enter our country without one generous idea relating [Page 119] to it. You call our courtesey, which is said to contrast your bluntness, in­sincerity. You look at the face of our country, and seem to wonder, that the smile of providence is ex­tended from the clift of Dover to that of Calais. You look at our customs, and, because they differ from your customs, you turn from them with disgust, or affected dis­dain. You enter our churches, and turn into the basest ridicule, objects most sacred. You have not even the discretion to keep silence, while we pay our passing obeisance to the shrine of the Omnipotent. God him­self is the sport and pastime of your leisure and laughter. Our citizens, [Page 120] artizans, women, children, as well as the bravest of our soldiers, come, at all convenient hours, to their de­votion; and, though they come with­out any compulsion, you call it hy­pocrisy. We lay before you our curiosities, and you despise them: we take many wrongs patiently; we allow largely to the impressions made by our singularities, and then you ill treat us beyond bearing. Ah, ungenerous travellers! Is it to laugh at your fellow creatures, and scoff at your Creator, that you make such inroads upon us? Is such the motive that urges a young English­man to migrate? Is such the con­duct of those who ought to be the [Page 121] patterns and examples of a free and noble country? You teach our tra­ders to believe, that you value no­thing so little as money, and yet you pretend to wonder, that they fix a price upon what you hold in the slightest estimation. If the savage is taught, by the more mechanical Eu­ropean, that the gun can do more ex­ecution than the bow-string, and at the same time, shews him how to pull the trigger, can you wonder if he directly puts his first experiment in practice immediately? Fie upon it, gentlemen. It is not doing justice either to one kingdom or to another. It is not doing as you would be done [Page 122] by. Tell me, I beseech you, seri­ously tell me—"

Here the Franciscan raised his voice, extended his right arm, fix­ing himself more firmly on his centre.

"At what time did you ever be­hold one of this country so behave himself in Britain. He comes to your snore with eyes to see, and heart to admire. He beholds large tracts of your land in the highest state of vigorous cultivation, and a he thinks well of your peasantry by the sweat of whose brows, and the diligence of whole hands it is pro­cured. [Page 123] He passes through your towns of business, and is forcibly struck with the spirit of commerce which seems to be the genius of your climate. He inspects the va­rious manufactories extended along the banks of your fruitful rivers, and conceives highly of your Eng­lish ingenuity. He goes into the capital of the kingdom, and, if he draws at all the line of comparison betwixt the two great cities of London and Paris, he draws it in favour of the former. He readily allows to it all that is due to su­periority of uniform buildings, ad­mirable accommodation for foot-passengers, and for the convenience [Page 124] of ample streets, in which there is sufficient scope for trade and fashion, for the car and for the coach. Gratified abundantly, he either fixes amongst you, or returns into his native country: if th [...] former, it is not always what, it is said, you Englishmen imagine it to be, be­cause he cannot live so well in France, but for more amiable rea­sons. If he returns, and, where is the man to whom such a return is not, sooner or later, desireable? he brings not over with him any base ideas, that are unworthy to travel half a league in the heart of any man breathing, but he speaks of your nation as it were to be [Page 125] wished you would have the equity to speak of ours. What then, gentlemen, are we to suppose? Are we to believe that only the slightest, lightest, and most superficial part of you, addict yourselves to travel? I should be sorry to think that this were the case; nay, my own ex­perience tells me that it is not always so."

Here he took Amelia by the hand, and bowed to me with respect.

"This lady and that gentleman (to go no farther) have given me no reason to believe they crossed the sea to despise the Deity, or any [Page 126] of his poorer ministers, because, perhaps, there is some difference in the exterior ceremonies of a na­tional devotion. Nay, I have seen other exceptions to a deplorable ge­neral rule, and those exceptions are the only things which save England from the contempt, into which it would inevitably fall without them. Excuse my wrath, gentlemen. I have spoken as an injured man. I have spoken as a brother of the holy society, to whose use this church is allotted. I have spoken as the faith­ful servant of a master, whose sacred image you have wantonly offended."

[Page 127]With this noble climax, the of­fended Franciscan finished his exhor­tation and remonstrance. Never, surely, was there observed ten mi­nutes (for he spoke with delibera­tion) of profounder silence.

Saint Paul, at the time of his making Felix tremble, could not possibly have commanded a more perfect attention. There was, in­deed, many favourable circumstances to heighten the solemnity of the whole transaction. Pale, as were the features of the Franciscan at his outset, his eyes kindled with his ar­gument, and his heart gave such [Page 128] animation to his face, and such elo­quence to his tongue, that he led his hearers into implicit captivity. The little apartment was, in itself, an ob­ject of awe, having a sable hanging of dark tapestry, wrought with traits of sacred figures, and a cloud, which suddenly passed the face of the sun, threw a gloom into the place, that put, as it were, into the power of the friar, the attractions of magic. Amelia was bound, as if by en­chantment, to the bed of straw, on which she sat; and, as the declaimer ended, she took the hem of his coarse and humiliating tunic, and, in the compleatest sincerity of her heart, pressed it to her bosom. Even [Page 129] the wits forgot their jocularity, and were unusually serious; that is to say, they looked about for a good joke, and could not find it: yet were they both ashamed, if I may so express myself, of their being ashamed. They blushed at the novelty of a keen sensation, and they wished the friar in Heaven, for having smitten fire from the flint. This awkward kind of consciousness was well il­lustrated, when the youth, who had thrown the handkerchief over the crucifix, stole it, as it were, imper­ceptibly away, forcing a sad, half smile into his face, as much as to insinuate, that he did not know what he was about.

THE BLUSHES.

WE all prepared to depart; and, in passing through the body of the church, the heart of Amelia was caught by the appearance of many females distributed in different parts, at their devotions. She paused— stopped short—folded her hands toge­ther involuntarily, and went on tip­toe, as if fearful of interrupting their ceremonies. As the Franciscan bowed to the cross in repassing the high altar, I verily believe, if it were not for shame of doing a decent thing, the wits could both have [Page 131] found it in their hearts to have bowed also.

At the great door of the church that led into the street, the friar bowed to the whole company, with a complacence which discovered that he bore no remembrance of what was past, so as to affect his urbani­ty: nay, to convince us farther that he did not, his bend to the striplings was more deep, more profound, and more respectful even than that to Amelia. He seemed to know the true point of delicacy; and had a heart to treat those whom his tongue, however justly, had wounded. This was but an aukward crisis for [Page 132] the young men, one of whom, after some irresolute gestures, offered a liberal present to the friar.

The air with which it was offered, and with which it was rejected, are two of those important trifles which neither pen nor pencil can do pro­per justice to. They both blushed; but the blood appeared in both for an opposite reason. The cheek of the person, who offered the present, was coloured by a reproach which bore its commission from the heart: the face of the Franciscan was tinged by that natural paint of virtue, which always mounts at the offer of a bribe. He had forgiven the whole [Page 133] matter before, but this offer recalled the transaction; and, although a twentieth part of the sum would have been acceptable some time be­fore, there were now many insuper­able objections. The noble inde­pendency of his late eloquence was not the least of these: instead, there­fore, of receiving it, he tarried a­while till the heart beat pacifically, and then declined it with a good grace. The interval, however, be­twixt the making of the offer, and the final rejection, was beautifully interesting to lovers of nature. It was a silent transaction, in which the heart looked through the eyes, and the blood spoke in the cheeks for [Page 132] [...] [Page 133] [...] [Page 134] about two or three minutes. The blush of disgrace is deeper and more durable than the blush of virtue. There is also a like distinction in the colour: disgrace is a full, dis­ordered, fiery kind of flush, not without some touches of the livid hue, that partakes of fear: the cheek of a virtuous man, under a sensation of transient anger, is set off by a bloom more delicate, pure and live­ly. I stood facing both parties, and beheld the whole process. The co­lour of the friar softened every mo­ment more and more, like the traits in a rainbow in the summer, till all that was called up from other quar­ters of the frame, gently retired into [Page 135] the proper vessels, and only left a glow of dignity and congratulation, as the symptom of a recent excel­lence: while the young man, who had shame upon his cheek, was much longer in getting rid of the tide than ran round his features. It burnt with the destructive rage of the dog-star. It settled in the centre, then mounted to his eye, then crim­soned his neck: nature seemed to have pride in it: it was a matter of ignominy: there actually came, from the lad's eyes, two or three tears. I saw them course along as if to quench the burning suffusion, which, not­withstanding this, verged off, tardi­ly; and I know not how long it [Page 136] would have continued, if, when all was well again with the friar, he had not tenderly taken the youth's hand, and, as he shut the church-door gently, smiled, like the angel of compassion, upon our departure.

CALAIS.

THE affair of the blushes, and the conscious ceremony which they brought about at the door of the church, with the little, nice, dis­criminations which it was necessary to make in the description, are, what I call fine strokes of the heart, and of character.

For such it was that I always looked about me, and for such the miser, who for very avarice should refuse to shave his beard, though it swept his bosom, would not travel [Page 138] half so far, for the amplest additions to his store.

Thou nature art my goddess: my services are bound to thee: I take every opportunity to profess my adoration: I would trace thee over rocks and mountains that ap­pear inaccessible. As thou sattest at the grate of a dungeon offering the cup of patience to the prisoner, or in the palace of the sovereign, where art endeavours, in vain, wholly to discard thy empire, I would observe thy inimitable opera­tions! I would steal an enraptured glance at thee, oh thou wonder-working power! while thou wert [Page 139] parading it in public triumph through the streets of a city; or I would go with thee into the cave of the sequestered hermit, where thy sway is not less despotic! When, as often is the case, thou art too shy, or too mysterious to be noted at an ordinary survey, I would si­lently sit me down in some unob­served corner, and watch thy work­ings: and, when it was denied me to view thee in the fuller manifesta­tion of thy glory, I would be con­tent to look on the radiant skirts of thy garment. Every undertaking, wherein it is thy delight to engage, however minute—and for the most part, the minuter the more curious [Page 140] —is precious to thy votaries; and neither watchings, nor feastings, nor fastings, nor sorrows, nor sick­nesses, nor stripes, nor whatever else happeneth to the children of men, can prevent them, or prevent me from yielding up the whole heart to the supreme power of nature!

Disorder still sat, displaying itself in the cheek of the jokers; and, on our arrival at the hotel, they desired to be shewn into a private room. Had the good Franciscan heard this request, the laurel of a compleat victory would have been fitted to his brow; but he was a man who [Page 141] seemed not made for conquests of this kind; and, though it is the way of ordinary mortals to swell out the crest, and lift up the head upon such occasions, I am persuaded the mendicant would have rejected the advantage he had over the heart of the youth, as he rejected the bribe.

The tear of unaffected pity was trembling in the eye of Amelia; as she saw the heroes enter their new and solitary apartment. "I fee [...] for them: (said she, with a melt­ing accent). The helmet which they, a little while ago, carried so proudly in the air, as a streamer [Page 142] of superiority, is now without a plume!" While she whispered this, one of them softly desired the waiter to take care that they were not disturbed, while the other half closed his conscious eye (as if nature had drawn over the lid in disgrace) and then he gently shut to the door.

"Now (said Amelia), leave the heart to its own contemplations. Such a retired hour of sensible re­proach is the best thing in the uni­verse for jokers. Mark the result of it, upon their coming out of the room of penitence."

THE SCRUPLE.

"AS you have now seen the church, Monsieur (said the master of the hotel to me), suppose you were now to pass an hour at the play­house."

Old England was still so much about me that I stopped the man ab­ruptly, and very gravely demanded to know the day of the week.

"Which, either we or you, have mistaken:" said Amelia.

[Page 144]"This is Sunday (replied the Frenchman), for which very reason, I think you cannot amuse a part of the evening better." Here clustered the interrogatories of inexperience.

"What, go to the play on a Sun­day? (said Simplicity). Finish a noble sermon, which we have just heard delivered by a Franciscan in his church, upon English inhospitality, with the farce of a theatre? And is not every door of every stage in England shut at this very moment? (said Prejudice). Shall we dare to profane the Sabbath? (said Habit).

[Page 145]"Will you go (said I), Amelia?"

"My God! (said she) what a question!"

"Why not? (demanded the master of the hotel). Whence arises your scruple?"

"From hence:" said Amelia, striking her hand somewhat forcibly upon her heart.

"Pardon me fair lady (said a very grave looking old man in the dress of an officer, who stood at her elbow, and overheard the dispute); [Page 146] pardon me, fair lady, if I say that I should suspect the feelings of any heart in such a case, did it beat in a less beautiful bosom."

There was a gallantry in this compliment, which induced us to listen to the arguments of the complimenter, rather than to the master of the hotel; so we took a turn with the stranger along the court-yard of the hotel, and he displayed his heart as he walked backwards and forwards.

"But this is the Lord's day, Sir!" answered Amelia to his first argu­ment.

[Page 147]"It is so (replied the officer); and ought, therefore, to be more parti­cularly distinguished by additional marks of joy! What good purpose is affected by that gloom, which hangs over this day in your coun­try. It is permitted in England to rest from toil every seventh day; so it is in France. It is or­dained that all churches in England shall celebrate the great God, to whom they are devoted with prayer and supplication at stated periods; so it is in France. It is allowed, in most parts of England, that, after divine service, the peasants may betake themselves to the brothel, [Page 148] or the beer-house, the consequence of which is, that Sunday, more than any other day of the week, is closed in drunkenness. In France we have provided against an incli­nation to such beastly excesses. We worship God not with a frown­ing face, nor yet with a dull silence, nor yet with needless austerities; but we distinguish the day which he hallowed by the most agreeable, innocent, and healthy exercises or entertainments. We conceive no­thing suitable to the genius of true piety, in imposing upon our­selves unchearful customs.

[Page 149]The morning we usher in with songs of gratitude, and the even­ing is passed in sports which neither hurt the constitution of man, nor contradict the mandates of God. Where my good friends is it forbidden, or rather where is it not encouraged to celebrate the day of the Deity with songs, and with dances, with the tabor, and with the timbrel, with the lute and with every other instrument of festivity? 'Keep holy the Sabbath-day;' saith the commandment. We do keep it holy. There is nothing sacred in a wrinkle. There is nothing holy in a dull habit of [Page 150] solemnity, which hath no founda­tion in reason. We have in France no inebriety, no oaths, no blas­phemies, no public quarrels; or, if they are ever seen, the police hath provided rigours, which make the offender a terrible example to his countrymen. I formerly passed some time in England, and am not un­acquainted with your customs, or your legislature. You stipulate the price of an oath; and every man may swear till he is hoarse, if he is in a situation to pay a shilling for a blasphemy. You have fightings in your cities on a Sunday evening, and the mob is collected and dis­persed without the intervention of a [Page 151] magistrate, unless one of the par­ties fighting should receive his death-wound, and, even in that case, the murderer is suffered to escape under the cover of accidental slaughter. Whoever walks through your vil­lages on the evening of the Sabbath, may hear them resound with the oaths of drunken men in the adja­cent ale-houses; and, if on their return home to their families, who dread their coming, you should meet them on the way, it behoves you well, either to turn aside, or else have the fortitude to bear, un­revenged, the insults of a man when he is in the state of a brute.

"The French on the contrary—"

[Page 152]"Pray, Sir (said Amelia, inter­rupting him) will you have the good­ness to tell me, what it is o'clock; for I am afraid, if we don't make haste, we shall be too late for the play?"

The officer smiled at the manner in which she discovered her acqui­escence, in the custom of being merry on a Sunday afternoon; and insisted upon shewing his fair proselyte the way to the comedy. Several little peculiarities struck us there, during the representation. The people, in­stead of sitting down in the pit upon benches, as in England, stood up the whole time. "This is strangely aukward, and incommodious (said Prejudice."

[Page 153]"Hush (answered Liberality); it is the custom of the country."

"Good God (said Prejudice, noting a second objection), the prompter sits like an ascending ghost, with his head and shoulders appear­ing to the audience, through a trap­door, upon the stage, instead of con­cealing himself, for the sake of dra­matic probability, behind the side wings of the scene."

"Hold your tongue (cried Libera­lity); it is the custom of the country."

"The audience absolutely stuns one (said Amelia) with their violent con­versation between the acts, although, [Page 154] during the exhibition, I confess their attention surpasses ours in England."

"Hush, hush (replied I); seem to take no notice; it is the custom of the country."

The old French officer who had a quick ear, and amazing volubility, caught up the sense of the last sen­tence, and harangued like a Cicero upon it.

"The observation, my good Sir (said he, addressing himself to me), should reconcile every peculiarity that you might meet with in a voy­age round the globe. The custom of [Page 155] a country should sanctify every thing that is singular, either in religion or in manners. Though vice and vir­tue are invariably the same, modes and maxims differ in almost every place. He who confines himself to one country, will, generally, be con­fined to one set of ideas, while he who travels will think more large­ly, and will allow for contrariety of opinion, and diversity of manners. You have just landed on this border of France, and you are surprized at some small differences in our customs, from those which are popular with you: but, were you to pass from hence into other realms, you would observe, in many of them, several [Page 156] singularities still more unfamiliarized and unaccountable. The Turk, the Chinese, the Swiss, the Tartar, will alternately deal forth their surprises upon you. If you have no heart to conceive that every nation may be allowed to pursue its own maxims, you will have nothing to do but to stare, and sit down with your per­plexity. You have already seen, that what is thought to be a pious ob­servance of religion in one country, is, twenty-one miles of, not ima­gined to be even proper or suitable to the Deity. What then would you say to the modes of remote climes, where, perhaps, almost every idea which you have imbibed in your own [Page 157] country, is inverted. Thus, cha­racters in different quarters of the globe, receive a different colouring, purely from the customs of the country; and yet, though manners vary, the heart may every where make an acceptable offering to the Creator. He who gave to every class of people a country, gave to them a proper constitution both of mind and body, and you have just as much reason for disputing against the customs of any country, because they dissent from yours, as you have for objecting to a dissimilitude in their forms and features. In France, we neither eat like you, nor think like you, in several respects. In [Page 158] China, they neither adopt the food nor the opinions of the French The natives of the southern hemisphere assimilate themselves not to the Chi­nese, and yet they are very excellent people who inhabit all those coun­tries. Learn, therefore, to believe, that every thing which is decent, wise and innocent, may be prac­tised from the same principle, but by different manners."

"I desire to know then, Sir, if you do not think us heretics?" said Amelia.

"Heretics! (said the officer, a little incomposed) settle that matter with [Page 159] your own heart. I have seen the world, and should suppose there is Heaven enough for all good men, in all countries."

"No doubt:" replied Amelia.

"Then Madam (rejoined the officer, as he handed her out of the box, the play being now over); then may I hope to give you another meeting, when the journey of this life is over, be our religions, in this world, of what sect they will."

There was so much of heart in this expression, that I took hold of his hand, as soon as I had got into [Page 160] the street, and thanked him for hav­ing made me wiser, and more like a man, who bore the form of a million other men, in regions, whose manners bore no trace of resemblance to mine.

"The citizen of the world is the best character you can aspire to:" said the soldier; and so ended the argument.

"It is scarce eight o'clock, (con­tinued the old officer, looking at his watch), and if you do not choose to bury the remains of so charming an evening, in your apartments, at [Page 161] the hotel, I will take a ramble with you into the fields."

A quarter of an hour's walking, brought us to a spot, in the centre of which was an ancient and ample tree, round which the peasants of Calais were dancing, to the scrap­ings of a fiddle.

"Gracious God (exclaimed I), if they are not—"

"Hush (said Amelia, pulling me gently by the sleeve), it is the custom of the country."

[Page 162]We passed quietly on through the croud, in the very heyday of its merriment, and sat ourselves down on a distant bench that was made round an oak, on purpose for the convenience of the wearied couples, or the unfatigued spectators. There was an avenue of spacious elms to the right, and, a little way off, lean­ing against these, we beheld a man, wholly apart from the rest of the company. My curiosity led me to leave Amelia with the officer, and walk towards him. His handker­chief remained up to his eyes, as I passed by him, three times; but when, in going by him, the fourth [Page 163] time, I discovered, in his woe-wan features, the lover of the unfortu­nate Felicity, how was I astonished! He recognized me in a moment, and very pensively told me that he came to look at the dances to divert his chagrin; "But, it hath not an­swered, Monsieur, (said he). I am disgusted with the festivity, of which it is impossible for me to partake: a healthy-looking blythe girl, of­fered just now to dance with me, but I had no pleasure in the touch of her hand; and, as I could not con­ceive it to be the hand of Felicity, I declined the offer. When the young men and women meet, or go arm in arm, with smiles upon their [Page 164] faces, I can feel the tears coming into my eye, because I am not able to shew the same tender courtesy to Felicity. But I see the dancers are going to separate, and every man will retire with his partner.

I am not accountable, I hope, if Nature hath mixed up in me a little envy, and so I will betake myself away in good time. Adieu Mon­sieur, adieu; but, do not forget that the fairest of women resides up five pair of stairs, in the Fauxbourgs St. Marceau."

The last and deepest shade of the evening was now overshadowing us, [Page 165] and Amelia waved her hand to beckon me back.

"And how came you here so soon my good lad?" said I to the barber.

"The discourse (replied he), which passed between us at Dover, about Felicity, had such an effect on me, that, as I passed by the quay, in my way home, I happened to see the captain of the packet, who as­sured me that he should sail next tide. So I gave him the money, your bounty, Monsieur, bestowed on me; fully resolved to take a walk to Paris, for which place I design to set off to-morrow."

[Page 166]"Where are your travelling ex­pences? (said I).

"Here (cried the youth, with great confidence). My expences will be de­frayed by these hands: I make no doubt but I shall dress my way up to town: besides, a lad of my principles, who is to steal a glance at Felicity, at the end of his journey, makes nothing of a couple of hundred miles."

"Let me see you at the Table Royale (said I) within an hour."

"I will be at the door of your apartment, Monsieur (said he), to the moment."

[Page 167]When the officer had escorted us to our inn, he informed us of a little engagement that he had to fulfill, and wished us a good repose.

BAGATELLES.

"CERTAINLY (said I, telling Amelia the circumstance of having met the love-sick barber); certainly I have been the means of drawing this poor lad from his employment, since it is evident he followed the dictates of his heart in leaving Dover. He is in search of his Felicity, and he designs to comb and shave his way up to her: but this is a tiresome method of journeying, and, as it is necessary for him to be private, to what perils will his passion expose [Page 169] him! Now, I have been thinking, that—"

I was interrupted by the master of the hotel, who appeared to ac­quaint me, that the young gentle­men in the private room had altered their mind, as to going by the dili­gence; and, very soon after we de­parted for the comedy, set out post, with a design of travelling night and day till they got to Paris.

There was a mixture of good and bad in this intelligence; though Amelia, by her smile, seemed to say, it was a good without any alloy. Their taking advantage of our ab­sence, [Page 170] to save the pride of the heart any farther mortification at our re­turn, was a symptom of sensibility, and might, in time, bring about de­sireable improvements; but their resolution to travel night and day, till they got to Paris, denoted a vio­lent relapse.

Few events, however, are there in life, which, though in the one hand they bring evil, always carry, in the other, some portion of pleasure or convenience.

As to the matter of convenience, nothing ever happened half so apro­pos to any mortal breathing, as this [Page 171] sudden exit of the jokers, to the poor barber. It facilitated also my scheme of getting him to the Fauxbourgs St. Marceau without the drudgery, inconsistent with the delicacy of his passion, of sticking his comb into any locks but his own.

"You shall travel snug in the bas­ket of the diligence, my good fel­low (said I to the barber, who was now tripping up to the door of the hotel where I stood); there may thou and thy tender secrets be as secure as thou wouldst desire them."

He put his hand into his pouch, and pulling out the lining of his breeches pocket, looked as he were [Page 172] looking at a dead blank: but the French soon recover themselves, and he is no true lover in any country, who is without some expedient, however retrogade, to visit his mis­tress; especially, if there was a proper share of danger or of diffi­culty to quicken him. Luckily for the barber, he had some ounces of romance wrought up with him, and these, with the prompting spirit of love to set them at work, will send a man upon the full run, from one end of the earth to the other, in de­fiance of fatigue: the sustaining idea of an imaginary goddess, to soothe him when the journey is over, will carry him through it.

[Page 173]The barber, I say, had romance enough in his constitution, to dress up his deity in the Fauxbourgs St. Marceau in the best manner. His wanton fancy pillaged the heathen heaven for fair possessions; and his own story of Felicity, was, that she had more beauty than Venus, more sense than Minerva, more dignity than Juno, and more grace than the Graces. Judge then how his heart must have throbbed with extasy at the proposal of the basket, till he felt into his forlorn pouch, and drew out the lining in despair. But, as was noted above, the French soon re­cover themselves.

[Page 174]"Before I saw the face of Felicity, (said the lad, pointing to a narrow spangled edging which was run round his coat and wainscot); before I saw the face of Felicity, I had a passion for this; but since I have had a passion for her, and she will, I know, like me full as well without any finery upon my coat, as with it, I know how I shall be able to ac­complish the matter. You must know, Monsieur, I brushed by a little dapper Gascon at the dance, who was so taken with my spangles, that he left his partner, on purpose to ask me where I bought them.

[Page 175]I stopped him in this conversation, which, I could plainly see, tended towards downright stripping, so, putting a Louis into his hand, I de­sired him not to miss the opportu­nity of the morning, and to re­member, that I should expect to be paid again, by a look at his Felicity, up five pair of stairs."

The Louis, the basket, the trea­sure, up five pair of stairs, and the rescued spangled edging, which, not­withstanding his affected disregard, was not wholly indifferent to him, all conjoined to touch upon the nerves of the barber, till nature (who [Page 176] can neither bear one extreme nor the other, nor yet a mixture of both, without playing the baby) carried him from the hotel, betwixt crying and laughing.

It would be heresy to omit telling the reader, that, when the barber hit upon the expedient of the spangled edging, I threw out a lure to catch the character of his heart, by pro­posing a better resource, in the sale of the little picture at his bosom.

Sensibility threw him into an ad­mirable situation; and, if I could properly describe it, would do me as much honour as it did him. [Page 177] "Sacre Dieu! (exclaimed he, lay­ing his right hand hastily on his sword, and then as hastily drawing it away again, without drawing the sword, as if checked by the recollec­tion of my former civility); sacre Dieu (repeated he), what a thought! Part with thee, thou dear image of my Felicity! Part with thee! Even though it be to visit Felicity herself! Did she not, on the day in which I parted from her, tie it, with trembl­ing fingers, round my neck? Did she not place it upon my bosom as a pledge of my fidelity in all my wanderings?—"

[Page 178]Here he broke off addressing the picture, in order to conceal it from my view; which, after fervently kissing it all over, he did, by putting it first within his shirt, and then but­toning up his waistcoat.

"Now you talk of pictures (said Amelia, a little hesitatingly), where have you put the cabinet?"

The question brought home to my own heart the anguish I had inflict­ed upon the barber's, whom I left in a hurry to look after my cabinet.

[Page 179]Ah, self, self, how dost thou cling about us! While the trifle of thy own heart is secure, and circum­stances are all smiling about thee; how dost thou sport with the play­things of all the rest of the world; but, if once thy own toy is in danger, farewell the moments of composure; every affection is in arms to defend thine atoms of property; and, till thou hast recovered those, all the acres of the earth besides are set at nought!

Had I not found my cabinet, and in the centre drawer of it, the picture in the velvet case (where I had again deposited it), I should have laid [Page 180] down upon my pillow, and arose from it in the morning, in the sor­row of my heart.

MY LORDS ANGLOIS.

MY fears in relation to the Eng­lish jesters, were but too prophetic. The marks of their wit and genius, were visible all along the road. If Providence had put it into my mind to have informed myself of their route, I should certainly have avoid­ed making it mine also. Thy went by the way of Abbeville; conse­quently, it would have been for my interest to take the post road through Lisle; instead of which I ran into their track, and smarted for it; for, as I found the stage­coach [Page 182] a greater evil than the for­feiture of the price of the places, I took post horses, and was, at every stage, a witness to the folly and indiscretion of my young country­men, who have contributed largely to inspire every inn-keeper with un­favourable ideas of the English, from Calais to Paris. The stripling's left a trace of a stripling's heart wherever I stopped. At Hautbuisson they clapped another pair of horses to their carriage, and bade the drivers consider that they were going upon business, more important than life and death: the consequence of this was, that the master of the post, expecting I was upon life and death [Page 183] also, was much chagrined that I did not travel with an equal force of cattle; and therefore gave me the most sorry steeds in his stable, alledging in excuse, that my Lords Anglois, had hired all the best horses, which must, on their ac­count, have a day's rest. At Boulogne, I heard of an accident which might have proved to any moderate man, that, the most haste occasioned the least speed; for, in the very middle of the town, and pretty near in the middle of the night, the post-boy, in clattering along, came upon the stones, and put out his ancle; when lo! to the utter astonishment of two or three spectators (whom [Page 184] oaths in an unknown language had summoned to their chamber win­dows), one of our hereos (for the honour of England) mounted the saddled-horse, and drove to the New Inn at the farther end of Boulogne, as if he had been bred to the whip and spur from his cradle.

This piece of coachmanship gave the master of the New Inn, so spirited an opinion of the jockey blood, that galloped through the veins of the English nobility, that, upon my arrival at his house the day after this memorable action, with a quiet pace, and with only half the num­ber of horses, Amelia sitting soberly [Page 185] by my side, and the barber who was not behind in the basket, as at first proposed, but sometimes behind, sometimes before, and sometimes at the side of my carriage, riding upon a bidet; when the matter saw us come into his court-yard in such state and steadiness I say, he cer­tainly took us for a Dutch family upon the travel, and I thought, upon his handing me out, he looked at my mouth as if he wondered what I had done with my pipe. He consulted what he took to be our constitution, and imagined that he should fit us to the heart, when he ordered for us some horses that [Page 186] appeared ten times more like Hol­landers than ourselves.

At Montreuil I discovered another mark of our English travellers, for they had, with great ingenuity, cut several very indecent expressions in bread English, or bad French, on the windows, with a diamond; the consequence of which is, that those who come after them, are frequently shewn into the worst rooms in the house, the more especially at hotels of credit.

I was informed at Amiens where (notwithstanding their resolution of going to Paris without resting) they [Page 187] stopped to take refreshment, that, although the capital of Picardie was absolutely pillaged to furnish them, they had some objection to every thing which the landlord could possibly set upon the table. He seriously told me that even the large quantities of money which they lavished about them, was not, in his idea, sufficient recompence for the trouble of attending to their caprices. They walked for five minutes, while the cloth was laying, into the town of Amiens, which is, in the spring-months, truly pleasing: here, they took every opportunity to tell the person who attended them, that, although Amiens was [Page 188] certainly the best town betwixt Amiens and Calais, yet Amiens was a worse town than they ever had the misfortune to see, be­fore they came to France. They were conducted along the beau­tiful banks of the Somme, on which this town is situated; and, though the plains before them are luxuriantly cultivated, so as to pre­sent a chequer-work of all that is either useful or ornamental, and the river meanders as romantically as Poesy herself could desire, in the midst of the prospect, set off, too as it seems their prospect then was, by the lustre of the sun, yet our prejudiced travellers, told their [Page 189] guide, with an air of superiority and indifference, that, to be sure, the corn and verdure was well enough, as was also the river Somme, for France; but that by a comparison with the corn, verdure, and rivers of England, they dwindled into shadows. In this complaining key they went on even to the gates of Paris; setting up that part of their own country with which they hap­pened to be most acquainted, as the standard for every other: thus the very wines and food which they affected while in England, to speak of, at second hand, with such appetite and admiration, now that they were really to be had [Page 190] and at a very small expence, they set up as proper objects of ridicule and contempt.

"Our Burgundy and Cham­paigne, Sir, (said the landlord to me) though I present to my customers the most excellent and unadulterate, the English gentlemen who were here last, assured me was wretched stuff, unfit to be drank by those who had still upon the tongue, the ravish­ing relish of good old Port, such as they (said they) had drank to the tune of three bottles a man, at the London Tavern, the day before their departure from the king of king­doms. In their opinion too Sir, [Page 191] (continued the landlord) my cook, who hath served the royal family, and lived last with a prince of the blood, had utterly ruined every thing upon which he had laid his hands. Our sauces, our sallads, our ragouts, our fricasses, and our fricandos, were all wrong; and, notwithstand­ing the reputation which I imagined was given us for spreading the table, I found myself to totally deficient in every particular, even from the soup to the desert, that all I shall, for the future, say upon the matter is, either the French are very con­ceited, or the English are very hard to please. Amongst other things (resumed the landlord, after a pause) [Page 192] which distinguished the gentlemen, whom you have enquired after, at Amiens, was, their singular obstinacy at the light of the holy host, which made its appearance while they were walking. They met the procession at the short turn of a corner, so that common decency required their com­pliance, so far, at least, with the custom, as to make way for its go­ing by. The guide, whom I sent with them, whispered, very respect­fully, the absolute necessity of this. But they said they were honest Protestants, all the world over, and should give none of the Catholics the least reason to suppose, they were converts to an absurd and mistaken re­ligion, [Page 193] Firm in this resolution, they rudely opposed; the passage of the priests, and she sacred cross, for near a minute, and I know not what would have been the consequence, if a party of soldiers, from the de­tachment of the king's body-guards, which are stationed here, had not, half by force, and half by persua­sion, convinced them of their per­sonal danger. After the priests were gone by, one of the travellers mut­tered to the other, that those fellows in their white robes, and formal faces, ought to come under the va­gabond act, and be punished accord­ingly,"

[Page 194]While the French landlord was yet speaking, he was interrupted, in his narrative of English wit and humour, by the arrival of a servant, as he came forward as the panting messenger of a gentleman, for whose life, it seems, all the horses in the stable would be immediately wanted.

MY LORD ANGLOIS RETURNING TO ENGLAND.

THIS alarming intelligence made that part of human nature which cators for individual enjoy­ment, without considering the en­joyments of society, bestir itself. Self-interest represented the imme­diate necessity there was for me to secure such a number of horses, as would answer my private purpose, seeing that the mighty man, upon the road, would sweep all before him.

[Page 196]"What your heart is now sug­gesting, is very well worth attend­ing to; and unless you set off this very hour, you may stand a fair chance of performing the rest of your journey on foot:" said A­melia.

Short as was this debate, it was a little too long; for the landlord came bowing a million pardons for the rudeness of the English noble­man's servant, who had, it seems, laid his unmerciful hands upon all the best cattle. "Ah wretch with­out a conscience! (said mine host): he hath seized upon the flower of [Page 197] my fields, and the pride of my pastures: nay, even thee, my be­loved Silver-locks, thou most beau­tiful of bidets, who wert wont to carry upon thy back the pleasing burden of thy mistress and of mine, and who is, alas gone down into the grave, he hath thrown an un­hallowed saddle even upon thee!"

"He shall sooner saddle me than Silver-locks, by the sacred God (said the barber who stood near me); for sooner than suffer such an outrage, I will die in the cause."

This asseveration, which was ut­tered with the most violent exertions [Page 198] of the heart, put the lad's legs in such motion that he was at the stable-door, which stood across a large court-yard, in a moment, and his sword was drawn.

"Heaven, defend the heart of so good a creature (prayed Amelia); I would not have any harm come to him for the world!"

"The bidet shall neither serve thee, nor thy master (exclaimed a voice issuing from the stable). He is too slight, too slim, and too de­licate to bear the hard blows of such a rider, as the blood upon thy spur shews thee to be. This soft [Page 199] creature was made for gentler journeys. I have heard his history: he hath been accustomed to pace quietly along at the pleasure of a woman. Thy very saddle is too much for him, and, therefore, I say again, and again, that though thou wert to carry off all the other horses in Amiens, this same Silver-locks must remain at his stall, which friendship hath, you see, se­perated from the rest."

This romantic harangue was an­swered first by a crack of the whip, which whether directed to the sides of the barber, or to those of Silver-locks, gave a good report: im­mediately [Page 200] after which, Silver-locks himself came running into the court-yard with the girths loose, and the bridle unbuckled, as if he had stolen off in the struggle, that he had, very innocently, occasioned. The barber and his antagonist, who had disarmed him, soon appeared, and both ran to Silver-locks.

"Silver-locks shall stay:" said one.

"Silver-locks shall go:" said other.

"Ah, poor Silver-locks, what a devil of a dust thou kicked up in the court-yard!" said the cook, peeping his night-cap out of the kitchen.

[Page 201]"Oh that thy poor mistress were here Silver-locks!" cried a fille de chamber passing along a gallery with certain conveniencies in her hand.

"Oh that an English gentleman would suffer a French landlord to be master of his own property!" ex­claimed the landlord.

"Ah, Silver-locks how art thou pulled about!" said Amelia.

"Silver-locks shall go."

"Silver-locks shall stay." re echoed the combatants—stay, go, go, stay, Silver-locks, Silver-locks answered every empty tub in the yard, till the [Page 202] response was carried to a neighbour­ing copse, which sent off the sound with still more vigorous vibrations.

By this time, the barber was tug­ging to loosen the crupper, and the messenger was labouring to maintain the point of his resolution, by an attempt to mount. His foot was just fixed in the stirrup; when lo! the victorious barber, who had dex­terously slipped the girths to see the sad­dle turn compleatly round, and lay his enemy level with the dust, di­rectly under the belly of Silver-locks, who, as if conscious of the equity of the thing, lifted up one of his fair fore-legs, and gave the pro­strate foe such a recriminating crack [Page 203] upon his skull, that, had it not been of entire lead, the business would have been done for ever.

This is the picturesque attitude in which my Lord Anglois, who now wheeled into the court-yard, found them. But he had been too long accustomed to these slight accidents, and indeed, to all horse-casualties, which happen hourly in Paris, to be discomposed; so he calmly enquired into the matter, and then desired the fellow either to get up or to lie still, as he thought proper; "As to the brute in dispute, he may stay in his stable till he is summoned hence by the last trump, for I brought much such an animal over with me, and no­thing [Page 204] like that I ever brought over with me am I ever disposed to take back again."

This was the hearth's content of the barber, who led off Silver-locks in high triumph, all the way com­plimenting himself and Silver-locks upon the issue of the victory. Silver-locks, to shew that he was not in­grateful, whinneyed forth his satis­faction, while, in return for that token of sensibility, the humane bar­ber passed the palm of his hand gently over his forehead, slapped Silver-locks softly upon the neck, and then requested I would keep my Lord Anglois in talk, while he went round [Page 205] to the landlord, and insisted upon first comers being first; served put of his stable.

This same Lord Anglois was, in the appearance of his own dress, his equipage, his servants, their manners and his manners, exactly the reverse of the English wits, whom we have lately celebrated; that is, exactly what a French gentleman of real taste and fashion would despise, as the utter reverse of themselves. He made his appearance in the yard of the post-house, in a vast blue travel­ling cloak, ornamented by a abroad border of gold tape; a pair of scar­let stuff breeches covered his thighs, [Page 206] and a pair of enormous boots con­cealed a couple of legs, which, if they bore any analogy to the meagre flesh that just skinned over his face, might have been lodged in apartments by no means so spacious. A thing which was made of light brown felt, whose brims were prodigious, was substituted in the place of a black British hat; and its form, instead of being angular, was conical like a sugar-loaf; twisted likewise into numberless ridges, all of which glit­tered in the gaudiness of edging; a couteau de chase of dreadful size, well studded with silver, glittered at his side; and his hair, though na­ture had not allowed him any re­dundance [Page 207] of it, was, by the art of the frisseur, supplied by a weight of powder and pomatum, which glori­ously contrasted the lightness of the head on which the hair grew: add to which, his locks were tortured into ten curls on a side, rising, tier above tier, over his ears. He ex­hibited himself in a French cabriolet, glaringly gilt, the inside of which was crouded with flashes of cordials curiously sorted; while the outside was, no doubt, loaded with that part of French frippery which polite Frenchmen hold in utter con­tempt.

[Page 208]This precious fellow begun, at his first abroad, to shew off. He said, he must just swallow a morsel a la Francoise, and then set out towards the detestable dale, London, where, upon account of the mal a propos exit of a cursed dropsical uncle, he should be obliged to put on a fune­ral face till the fellow was under ground; "And during the course of this dismal week (the drudgery of which is worth all the fortune he hath bequeathed me), I shall be condemned (said he) to pass my time in abominable England, where there is not one single thing to eat or to [Page 209] drink, but what is most exceedingly gothic.

Prithee, landlord (continued our man of travel), get me some frogs, or snails, or a fricassee of any other delicacy, in thy house. I have met with every thing charming all the way from Montpelier, except that, at one stage, a fellow was fool enough to insult me with an idea of my being a vulgar Englishman, and so, upon that infamous presumption, had the impudence to suffocate the more delicate organs, with the sight and smell of filthy solids: and I verily believe, had I not instantly waved my white handkerchief in [Page 210] utter horror, that the vile roast beef might be removed, I must have sunk to earth under the immensity of the joint!"

The good fare at Canterbury came across me, and I lifted up my hands, in silent astonishment!

"Here's a hero for you:" whis­pered Amelia.

"Hush (said I); it is the custom of our countrymen, upon their return from travel."

The vanity of the landlord, how­ever, was so much tickled at our [Page 211] hero's compliments upon France, that he quite forgot the insult offer­ed to the favourite bidet, and pranced away, with a scrape and a bow, to shew my Lord Anglois the best room in the hotel.

"I shall match thee for this (cried the indefatigable barber, as he re­turned disappointed from the stable, out of which he could only get two miserably-meagre steeds, whose so­ciety would have been renounced by Quixote's Rosinante); I'll match thee for this;" said the barber, and skipped out of the court-yard, into which, in a very little time, he came again, with able-bodied horses, ready [Page 212] harnessed, and which he himself helped to put to our carriage, as if disdaining to be served by the land­lord, who was full in deep discourse with our Anglo-Frenchman; and, after we were gone, I do not doubt, but the conversation ended so totally to the honour of France, that we had not in England, either a church or a tower, or a town, or a street, a hill or a valley, a hat or a wig; a cat or a dog, a monkey or a man, fit to be looked at.

"I perceive (said Amelia, as we were running smoothly upon the level of a green sward, that invited us to enjoy a moment's serenity from [Page 213] the concussions of the pavement); I perceive that there is a very material difference in the sentiments of comers and goers. When an Englishman first comes into this country, he is prejudiced so egregiously by his old habits, that nothing French can get a good word out of him; and when the same traveller is upon his re­turn, after a week's or a month's staring at the worst part of France, he hath imbibed so thorough a de­testation for every thing English, that it is impossible for any thing in Britain to please him: so that if a man would choose to contrast his own character without being in­debted to any second person, he [Page 214] ought, by all means to make, a tour to Paris; for very soon after he gets there, he will be the reverse of what he was at the time he left London."

THE IMPARTIAL TRAVELLER.

THESE remarks were a source of entertaining consideration till we got even to Chantilly, and at the hotel in that town we were re­peating the last sentence, within ear-shot of a person, who was sit­ting at the window of the room into which we were conducted, while the fresh horses were putting to, under the inspection of the barber, who was, by this time, my faithful and affectionate attendant; though, in consideration that he was a lover, and upon a journey [Page 216] to his mistress, I treated him with more deference than is thought ge­nerally due to a domestic.

"I see no reason for that madam: (said the stranger, bowing very courteously to Amelia); I do not conceive it is at all necessary for a man to be inconsistent with him­self, or to make himself absurd by ridiculous innovations, though he were to make the tour of Europe instead of that of France; and I think you bear a little too hard upon your countrymen in the supposi­tion. With respect to the girls and boys who, for mere fashion's sake export and import themselves to [Page 217] and from the Continent, those I reckon as a set of unestablished characters which have neither weight, or influence in any coun­try. They go abroad with the same design that they go to church —merely to be seen: and they come home again, after having looked at the world, not orderly, nor cor­rectly, but wildly and, as a mis­cellany, in miserable confusion. But, from the conduct or the sen­timents of children, most of which are sent off to be out of harm's way, though by the bye, they are in fact, the more in it, who will presume to draw any certain cha­racteristics of the nation from [Page 218] which they came? Depend on it madam, such vagrants, such wan­derers over the face of the earth, are as contemptible in foreign climes, as they are in their own. The credit of shooting with a long bow, follows them closely. They tell tales of England, and its customs, to foreigners, which are believed just as much as their tales of France and Italy are believed by those whom they would delude in England. Such frippery, however, determines nothing; but I presume it is not very unusual for an Englishman to travel to a wiser and more rational purpose. For my own part, madam, if in the in­stance [Page 219] of an individual, you will allow a defence of my countymen, I am now about to return to the place of my nativity, after having traversed the greater parts of the Continent twice over. I went once for health, and once for observation: both my wishes have been grati­fied. I entered France without prejudice, and without prejudice or a single with to continue here longer, I am preparing to cross the water. I have made it part of my amusement to state as it were the ballance, of the two nations; and, by assistance of notes and memorandums, which I have been at the pains to set down, on most [Page 220] occasions, I find matters exceedingly upon a level. We have circum­stance of beauty and benefit in particular parts of France; which are not to be found in England: on the other hand we have in Eng­land many things which appear to us, more delightful than they are to be seen in France. Advantage is poised by advantage, amusement by amusement, elegance by ele­gance.

It is worth while, however, to visit both countries, since, if we carry in our bosoms a liberal heart, we cannot fail to be richly rewarded for the excursion and it is im­possible [Page 221] for a candid man to be a single month in either, without seeing and feeling positive proofs, that the stories which vulgarly prevail, have no foundation but in fancy and falshood. I was told at my leaving London, madam, that a brave Englishman could, at any time, beat three Frenchmen; that the French were as notorious for in­sincerity, as the English for plain-dealing that, the King of France, having all his subjects and their property at command, tugged at the tight cord of authority, till subject and property were both inse­cure; that in France, we should look around us in vain for that [Page 222] voluptuous verdure which covers the meads of Britain; that the French were, in general, meagre of visage, and miserably low of stature; that their very soldiers, when compared to ours, were Lilliputians in regi­mentals; that the noblesse of France shut out the peasants from the com­forts of society, and that the peasants themselves, though condemned all the day to cultivate an ungrateful soil, had too little flesh upon their bones to enjoy the evening like an English labourer: all these vulgar errors, I say, madam, were infused into me. I never gave them credit, for I always believed them to be what I found them—misrepresenta­tions. [Page 223] I have seen one brave Frenchman soundly thrash one brave Englishman, who fought upon the presumption of his subduing three; and the plain truth is, that man opposed to man, in both countries, are nearly equal. True it is, that, the sovereign of this country hath almost unlimited power; but, on the stricted enquiry, you will find that, although he is in the prime of his youth, when power is apt to be most wanton, there is not yet upon record one single cruelty, or severity, or inequity, to stain the present purity of the royal ermine: and, what adds not a little to his lustre, his throne hath not been spotted by one drop of [Page 224] hostile blood; for he is at peace with all men. With respect to verdure, I presume you have been a delighted witness that the vegeta­tion of France presents a prospect of luxury, not inferior to the most fertile parts of England. With re­spect to bodily endowments, the farther you travel into the king­dom, the more readily will you allow that the French are by no means undersized; but a grateful, well-formed set of people; rather inclining (contrary to the common opinion) to height and bulkiness, than to diminutiveness, and to thin­ness. Upon the whole the inha­bitants of both countries have equal [Page 225] reason to imagine that the provi­dence under which they are govern­ed, is just and equal. With such an idea I hope, you, Madam, will now set off for the capital of France, where you will meet with a thou­sand things to entertain you; and I hope you will likewise pardon the freedom of these sentiments, which your own observations brought upon you. I admire France, Ma­dam, but I love England. To the one I pay only a visit, but the other, as the song says, is my home."

[Page 226]The sensible stranger bowed, and a smile, full of acknowledg­ment from Amelia, shewed him that all was as it ought to be in her heart.

If, therefore, one improper sen­sation lurked behind, in despite of former efforts, it was now done away.

The gallant Garhon of the fair Felicity (whose history, will, here­after, become more interesting) announced to us that the horses were ready: we jointly wished the impartial and unprejudiced traveller [Page 227] a happy journey; and, after an agreeable ride through the villages of Luzarche, Ecouen, and Saint Dennis, we paid our extra livres for the post royal, and entered, without prejudice, the gates of the city.

THE HEART CONCLUDES THE SECOND VOLUME.

THE heart has now travelled, at its leisure, from London to Paris, and here it is beating at the pleasing recollection of a delightful journey, in the hotel de York, which is situ­ated in the Rue Jacob. It is the bu­siness of memory to represent, faith­fully, the images which are past; and I was preparing to retrace every thing I had seen in the course of my journey, step by step, in order to draw from the whole survey, the concluding sentiments of the heart, [Page 229] when the cherub philanthropy, who spoke from the lips of Amelia, per­ceived my design; and, laying her finger upon my bosom to command attention, spoke as follows:

"We have now left behind us the capital of England, more than two hundred miles: we have tra­versed a fruitful and excellent coun­try: we have met hospitality on the way. Sometimes we have met imposition; but for that, we are in­debted to the folly of our own coun­trymen. We have brought our excursion to a temporary period: we are in the capital of France. Here, we shall pause, at least till we [Page 230] have gratified our curiosity by a view of all that is fair and captivating in a new city. In the mean time, surely, the heart may be allowed to yield to the sentiments, which it ad­duces from a recapitulation of the whole matter. Having reached the metropolis, it seems to be the proper crisis for us to setttle our opinions upon the nation, so far as we are able. Will you permit, for once, a woman's heart to speak upon this subject? Will you permit her to wish, that two countries, which are such near neighbours, might very long continue tender friends? From such an alliance, maintained on both sides with reciprocated integrity, [Page 231] every thing that is useful, and beau­tiful, must be inevitable! Ah, what a delightful assemblage of blessings have I now kindled in my fancy upon this occasion! Methinks I see the fair form of Peace breathing her wishes in the most animating elo­quence of language!

Too long, she says, infinitely too long, hath the demon of Battle inspired rival kings, with an avarice of conquest; and, in the din of war, there is no leisure to reflect that every conquest must be procured at the price of general devastation. If, on one side, the victor returns loaded with spoils and laurels, into the arms [Page 232] of an expecting wife; the other side presents a picture of anguish, from which, victory itself might turn weeping away. A train of little children are without a father; and she who was yesterday exulting in the hope that she is still a wife, finds, to day, that she is a defence­less widow; a widow too, over whose wounds the opposite party are rejoicing! How richly culti­vated are the lands of Britain and of France! but how soon might the ambition of victory dispoil them of every beauty, and of every fertility. The smiling robe of verdure with which spring covers the earth, the blossom which sheds perfume over [Page 333] every valley, and the forests, which afford a shade to the shep­herd and to the philosopher, with every other scene that is now wav­ing in the voluptuousness of sum­mer plenty, might, ere they were gilded by the beams of to-morrow's sun, be utterly extirpated. The rapacious genius of battle, attend­ed by his horrid instruments of human carnage, inverts every joy, and every elegance of nature. Cast an eye over the foodful earth: observe what large tracts of preg­nant territory are ripening for the sickle: alas! they might all yield suddenly to the sword of an in­satiate conqueror. Admit into the [Page 234] sweet scene which you are con­templating, the various streams that take their silver circuit through the vallies; a thousand flocks, the property of a thousand swains, are cropping the living herbs that em­broider the sides of them: the harvest is expected, and all is ho­liday in the heart of the husband­man, whether he is master of his acres in the country of England, or in that of France. Methinks I see, east of these, just mounted upon the summit of two hills, situated, the one on this, the other on that side the water, in order to gladden their hopes of the coming plenty! The affections [Page 235] of nature are not circumscribed: her operations are unif [...]rm and universal. These labourious servants of the soil have both the same wishes: their cheeks are flushed with equal expectation: their hearts pant with equal ardour. The golden prospect on either hand, enters into the very soul. Trusting in the mercy of one common Father whose blessed beam of ma­turating favour, is proportioned to the necessities of universal vegeta­tion, they have neither of them the weight of a single fear upon their bosoms. The one, protected by a generous young king, and by the laws of his country, not [Page 236] less protective, rejoices that he was born a Briton! The other protected by a young monarch (whose heart is humanized to every virtue that can add lustre to his dignity, though all the laws, even to the law of life are in his hand) rejoices that he is a native of France!

Both are happy, and philan­thropy breathes forth a fervent prayer, that they, as well as all the millions, on either side of the shore, who are now happy upon the same principle, may long con­tinue so!"

[Page 237]And were I as powerful as one of those monarchs, I should join in this supplication Amelia (said I, interrupting her): you have made Philanthropy talk like herself. Never was there drawn more de­lightful pictures from the prospects we have seen in our journey. Here stop my dear traveller.

We are here in one of the most bustling hotels in Paris! Though we are three stories from the street, the clatter of the city, and the confusion of the busy and merry world is heard plainly! Go not a single sentence farther: for if you [Page 238] were to cast but a single glance either above, below, or on any side, the tide of your eloquence, which hath hitherto run clear as your own complexion, would be, in some measure, or stained, or mixed, or obstructed. It is the place, the page, the leaf, the line, the letter in the world, to bring the Travels of the Heart (so far as they relate to a journey from Westminster Bridge, to the Pont Neuf) to a conclusion.

We will leave the sentiments of Amelia's philanthropy, to operate kindly upon the generous reader, and, when the pen is taken up [Page 239] again, upon this subject, his heart shall be invited to scenes which will be drawn from human nature, as she exhibits herself in Paris.