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 [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.

[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 ſome⯑thing for the heart, even in a com⯑ment upon its weakneſſes.

"Pſhaw (ſaid I) what a misfor⯑tune is it to be hypochondriacal: or rather what an hypochondriac is man, take him even at the ſoundeſt [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 ſta⯑bilities in the compariſon: how peeviſh, how playful, how irreſo⯑lute, how reſolved; without reaſon diſguſted, and with as little cauſe put again into humour."

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

[5]Ah, cenſurer, have a care! Be⯑ware 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? De⯑pend 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 [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 circum⯑ſtance 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 argu⯑ments pro and con, in regard to this journey to France, and beſtow⯑ing 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 [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 hair⯑dreſſer, and done with due regard [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 al⯑low too, that I am your priſoner at this inſtant!"

"Sans doute, Monſieur, while under my hands: but that hits not off; [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 Faux⯑bourgs 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."

[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 ſatis⯑fied); I am afraid, friend, you are addicted to that contemptible ſpe⯑cies of wit, which in England, we call the Conundrum."

[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 tra⯑vellers might, at ſuch a time as this, lead them into the bedcham⯑ber, to make the moſt of the two or three hours which remained, [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 un⯑happy 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 [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."

[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 ejacu⯑lation!

"My good and great God!" ſaid the.

[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 ne⯑ceſſity, 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 ſome⯑thing, hanging together.

This ſomething could certainly be made nothing of, while, as was now the caſe, it remained on [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!

[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.

[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 contri⯑buted to my diſappointment, might inſtantly fall from the head, upon [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 en⯑gage 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 accommo⯑dation is brought about to the hearth's abſolute content, by ſome ſlight manoeuvre, of all others the leaſt expected!

[20]"A mighty pretty picture that Monſieur!" ſaid Amelia. I turned ſhort about with inconceivable quick⯑neſs, 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.

[21] "Oh Ciell" (exclaimed the French⯑man. He ſtill kept his attitude: but, ſoon recovering himſelf, he again begged my pardon, and ad⯑dreſſing 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 Ame⯑lia, ſtriking her hands together!

[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.

[23]The Frenchman was now touch⯑ed ſo thoroughly, that, as he pro⯑ceeded 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 [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 for⯑wards 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 [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 [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. Cer⯑tainly, 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 diſa⯑greeable paſſengers, and, as Felicity is a fair creature, I thought it beſt to enjoy her company alone. Better had it been, however, if the ca⯑briolet had been at Paris, and I in my maſter's ſhop; for, as I told you before, a couple of accidents hap⯑pened, [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 with⯑out 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 dif⯑ferent places, tempting us in marble, (which ſcarce ſeem to want breath) that it is very wrong for two young French people, that love one ano⯑ther, to truſt themſelves amongſt them. We got ſafe out of them, at the coſt only of about a thouſand [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 crim⯑ſon, 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 ex⯑tremely gentle, and I drove them myſelf. Ah! that a coachman had been ſeated before us! What miſery might have been prevented!

[29]As fortune, however, would have it, I was, by ſome means, in⯑duced 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.

[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!'

[31]He who loves, muſt endeavour to gratify her whom he admires. Not thinking, that, if I ſtruck the animal, I ſhould deſtroy the plea⯑ſure 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 [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 [33] eſcaped along the roof and deſcend⯑ed 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 de⯑cently 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 [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 French⯑man, 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 con⯑trivance 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 [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.

[37]The barber was juſt about to take his leave as this inviſible con⯑cert 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 atten⯑tion, and put his razor and combs into their caſes with infinite com⯑poſure; but every turn in the ſonnet, which diſplayed The Pleaſures of Paris, made a ſtrong impreſſion upon both his looks and limbs.

[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."

[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, be⯑twixt ſighing and ſinging went out of the room.

The houſe-clock ſtruck eleven, juſt as he departed; and ſome tra⯑vellers would have been two hours [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 [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 dif⯑ferent country. The hiſtory of the unfortunate Felicity convinced me, ſtill more fully, of this cardinal truth, namely, that, although cuſ⯑toms may throw a different colour⯑ing over the character of nations, there is one ſilent language, uni⯑verſally underſtood, and univerſally the ſame—the language of paſſion, and of the affections.

[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 phi⯑lanthropy, 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. [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 coun⯑try; and laſtly, inſtead of thinking upon a ſhip any longer as a mon⯑ſtrous machine, that moved without any real neceſſity upon the face of the waters, we contemplated it as a ſtructure equally uſeful and in⯑genious, 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 [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 ſtage⯑coaches, 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 uncom⯑fortable dignity of a coach and eight.

[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 pecu⯑liarity, 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; [47] they, who have correctly marked the changes ſhe undergoes almoſt every moment in obedience to cir⯑cumſtances great and ſmall; they, alſo, who have taken an exact ſur⯑vey 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 [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 way⯑ward. I defy the gloomieſt ima⯑gination, 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.

[49]My eyes and ideas being all wide open, and broad awake, I ſat my⯑ſelf 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 cha⯑racteriſtical 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, [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 ex⯑tended from ſide to ſide of him, might have, perhaps, been a ne⯑ceſſary companion in Siberia. As the thin texture of its voice diſ⯑covered itſelf only by a cough, and as people cough, according to the ſtrength or weakneſs of conſtitution, pretty much the ſame in all coun⯑tries, 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 [51] which happened many faintings and many complaints, of the curſed miſtake of providence, in not ſuf⯑fering 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. [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 ad⯑mitted 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 orna⯑mented only with a ſmall unem⯑belliſhed clock. Imagining this ſhivering neighbour, the fop, to be really near unto the gate of eternity, [53] he adminiſtered to him, but with⯑out 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 [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 Iriſh⯑man, who proved to be born in Germany. I ſaw a pair of ſhoulders ſet upon the back of another who I [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.

[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 pre⯑precipitancy to his own confuſion, and to the ridicule of others.

[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 Eng⯑liſhmen, 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, [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 ſcoun⯑drel, 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. [59] The young gentlemen looked on all ſides of them for laugh; but, per⯑ceiving the joke did not take, they were obliged, for the credit of the thing, to laugh themſelves; and this laugh, under the ſenſe of diſap⯑pointment, 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 fol⯑lies, and I have no objection; but if your muſcles are ill-natured, and obſtinately fixed to the line of [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 im⯑preſſion 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 diſ⯑dain 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 [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 pro⯑nounced 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 [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 Scotch⯑man, but the man of Kent, he ſat kicking his heels, juſt as he had been kicking them for ſome time before, without any additional vi⯑gour 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 com⯑pany, doth not afford, a more cer⯑tain clue to the heart, than any [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 indeter⯑minate. 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 chair⯑men; thoſe know that the gentle⯑men of Ireland are, for the moſt part, elegantly formed. Many men, likewiſe, in all countries, ſhrug the [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, ori⯑ginate from our dramatic writers, who deceive us in drawing their characters. The Frenchman of the Engliſh theatre, and the Engliſh⯑man upon the ſtage of Paris, are perfect caracaturas. It is the ſame [65] with reſpect to our exhibition of the Iriſh. The prodigious ruffles which we give — on the ſtage — to the French peaſants and Pariſian do⯑meſtics, is a falſe trick which no playwrite can poſſibly put upon a real traveller; for the fact is, that the French footmen, like the Eng⯑liſh footmen in great families, wear theſe ornaments of a common length; and, as to the French pea⯑ſants, they all wear ruffles prodi⯑giouſly 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 repreſenta⯑tives of the truth, I call upon every gentleman, who hath travelled be⯑yond [66] the playhouſes of England, to the real parts which are ſaid to contain ſuch prepoſterous exuber⯑ances 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 [67] have diffuſed over my native coun⯑try; 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 re⯑ſolved to turn my obſervations into [68] another channel, and addreſs my⯑ſelf in a method, diſtinct from Sterne on the one hand, and mere men of brick and mortar, or ordi⯑nary deſcribers of building, furni⯑ture, 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 correct⯑ing.

[69]By leave of the reader's heart, which I will ſoon again attend to, I will take advantage of this apro⯑pos 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 peo⯑ple. 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 ad⯑mitted; but if you meet them in the ſtreet, in the way of their buſi⯑neſs, or even walking in the public gardens in parties, not in the ar⯑dours of ſociety, I do not believe there is a ſedater, not to ſay ſolemner, [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 appear⯑ance 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 [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 af⯑fectation, 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, en⯑tirely [72] the mode of an elegant un⯑dreſs; 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 ſtrip⯑lings 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.

[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 be⯑long to Paris; but, methinks, the reader muſt have very little polite⯑neſs if he murmurs forth any of his criticiſms at this; for I only pro⯑miſed to amuſe his heart with ſuch [74] incidents as ſhould fall in my way; and, therefore, all which ex⯑ceeds this promiſe, and which re⯑lates to mere matter of fact ſenti⯑ment, 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 hap⯑pened to go to the ſame hotel that I did. The coxcomb in the wrap⯑ping cloaths, was carried gently off in a chair to Monſieur Deſſein's, and the real French gentleman bowed politely to the whole com⯑pany, and walked away to a private houſe.

Without chooſing to enter into any more jokes at preſent, I with⯑drew to my chamber; and, what perhaps your chimney-corner cha⯑racters [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 [77] called the impoſition of French inn⯑keepers.

It is common enough for travellers, on the ſame road, to communicate their buſineſs the one to the other. But the twin jeſters were remark⯑ably reſerved upon this ſubject, owing, very probably, to the im⯑poſſibility 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 diſ⯑cloſe their motives. The moſt undeſigning nothingneſs brought our youths from London to Calais, and the ſame undeſigning nothing⯑neſs will, I doubt not, carry them [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 [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 pre⯑vent the riſings of a virtuous in⯑dignation.

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 [80] of travellers, curtſying and bow⯑ing, 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 [81] of every mendicant flew up in⯑ſtantaneouſly 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 libe⯑rality.

[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, de⯑clared 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 [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 ho⯑nour of England, which is, after all, the only England in the whole world."

[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 fur⯑row of time into wrinkles. Our [85] generous young gentleman pro⯑miſed 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 com⯑prehend this ſtrange propoſal, and ſaid ſhe complied with it, and I do actually believe he would have [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 tender⯑hearted 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 [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 ſquan⯑derer cooled, he would be mean enough to caſt a longing, lingering look after that money, which he had laviſhed while he was warm.

[88]Amelia's heart ſmiled in her face upon this occaſion, and the bucks conſoled themſelves, with obſerv⯑ing, 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 [89] into a foreign country, and diſtin⯑guiſh themſelves by the ſplendor of miſchief. They can find a raviſh⯑ing 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 [90] orders at the utmoſt extent of the voice. Theſe briſk young gentle⯑men, alſo, concentre the ſublime of their delight, in the clatter of carriage-wheels, the crack of whip⯑cord, 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 circum⯑ſtance 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 [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 ſupe⯑riority.

Men of ſpirit too we have amongſt us, in whom ſhoots up the ſpirit of travel, who feel the po⯑liteſſe 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 them⯑ſelves, and they take to themſelves [92] all that ſtare and admiration which is paid to the number of horſes, and to the ornaments of the equi⯑page. The joy of ſuch too, ariſes from doing the very action of which a rational traveller would be a⯑ſhamed; for they admire the poli⯑teſſe 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 ex⯑change of a ſingle livre upon the Continent.

The innkeeper ſees all theſe prodigalities, and hath generally [93] enough of the world about him, to make out his bill according to the conduct of his cuſtomers. He per⯑ceives 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 prodi⯑gality is marked as the characteriſtic of our country; from which im⯑putation the honeſt travellers, who are contented with a pair of horſes, and a decent dinner, decently or⯑dered in a quiet articulation, which beſpeaks us at peace with all men; hence, I ſay, it is, that thoſe tra⯑vellers [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 [95] on the table by theſe Britiſh diſ⯑putants) 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 mi⯑nutes, and proved to be the ſtage⯑coach 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 ve⯑hicle 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 [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 ſtage⯑coach, this waggon, or this thun⯑der; [97] while they, therefore, are diſ⯑puting what to call it, let us go and ſecure ſeats in this very ma⯑chine, however unweildy, and, if poſſible, pay our quota unnoticed, and be gone.

There is a good degree of hazard in obeying, implicitly, the firſt im⯑pulſes; 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 [98] it, as a fond mother might be ſup⯑poſed to gad about with the firſt⯑born, 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 conſtruc⯑tion of the conveyance, and ſhaped into the parlour again, as having finiſhed the buſineſs charmingly.

[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 be⯑trayed 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." [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 en⯑gagement; 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 incon⯑venience [101] might have its counter⯑balance of amuſement ſome way.

"All for the beſt:" ſaid Amelia.

The Engliſh ſtriplings now ex⯑hibited another ſpecimen of Engliſh prudence, in the manner of diſ⯑charging 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 [102] had the ſagacity to find out, that the fulneſs and plenitude of fleſh, re⯑preſented on the guinea, was per⯑fectly 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 ob⯑jection to the ſmall ſilver coins, except that they were palpably mere copies of the good, honeſt Engliſh ſixpence. As to the copper coins, [103] they wholly renounced and exe⯑crated 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 au⯑dacity 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 [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 ob⯑jects, and ſay the French money is inconvenient? For my part, I can conceive every thing that is excel⯑lent 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 [105] the purpoſes of benevolence! Ah, gentlemen, have you not yet tra⯑velled 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 [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 em⯑ploy 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 [108] deſires known to our ſtriplings, part⯑ly 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 con⯑vent; 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 ſpe⯑cimens of Engliſh humour were ſhewn off at the church of the con⯑vent. [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 fol⯑lowed his example in every thing, but the appearance at leaſt of ſin⯑cerity. The friar unlocked a large range of drawers, out of which he took the robes, roſes, and other or⯑naments, 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 religi⯑ous occaſion. I conſidered them, for my own part, as well-intended [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 reti⯑nue 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 gentle⯑men obſerved, would do moſt ad⯑mirably 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 [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 fin⯑ger, 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 [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 Fran⯑ciſcan (who, by the bye, underſtood too much Engliſh, to be inſenſible of a downright inſult in coarſe lan⯑guage), turned round to our com⯑panions, and was going to ad⯑dreſs them, when, happening to turn his eye towards a croſs, upon which his God was extended, in the atttitude of ſuffering the laſt indig⯑nity, after almoſt every other had been diſcharged againſt him, he bowed ſubmiſſively to the figure, as [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 apart⯑ment, 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.

[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 di⯑ſtreſs, I found Amelia in a warm ar⯑gument with our young gentlemen, upon the ſubject of a decent deport⯑ment 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 [115] Engliſhman inſiſted, that, unleſs ſome ſuch circumſtance took place, a cru⯑cifix was no fit object for female in⯑ſpection; 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 [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 ſanc⯑timonious, but ſhe muſt be in⯑ſulted by the rudeneſs of her own countrymen." She had no time to go on: the rage of the Fran⯑ciſcan, 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). [117] What principle is it by which you are thus directed to diſgrace your⯑ſelves 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 gentle⯑man, is attended with a very con⯑ſiderable expence: morals, and humanity, it is ſaid, are particu⯑larly cultivated in your univer⯑ſities. We gather theſe things, I ſay, from the report of thoſe, who would emblazon the inſtitu⯑tions of your country; but, if re⯑port is to be confronted by expe⯑rience, [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 reſpec⯑table, as a nation, that we, who are your neighbours, wiſh to ad⯑mire 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 [119] to it. You call our courteſey, which is ſaid to contraſt your bluntneſs, in⯑ſincerity. You look at the face of our country, and ſeem to wonder, that the ſmile of providence is ex⯑tended 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 diſ⯑dain. 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 him⯑ſelf is the ſport and paſtime of your leiſure and laughter. Our citizens, [120] artizans, women, children, as well as the braveſt of our ſoldiers, come, at all convenient hours, to their de⯑votion; and, though they come with⯑out any compulſion, you call it hy⯑pocriſy. 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 Engliſh⯑man to migrate? Is ſuch the con⯑duct of thoſe who ought to be the [121] patterns and examples of a free and noble country? You teach our tra⯑ders to believe, that you value no⯑thing 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 Eu⯑ropean, that the gun can do more ex⯑ecution 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 [122] by. Tell me, I beſeech you, ſeri⯑ouſly tell me—"

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

"At what time did you ever be⯑hold 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 pro⯑cured. [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 va⯑rious manufactories extended along the banks of your fruitful rivers, and conceives highly of your Eng⯑liſh 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 ſu⯑periority of uniform buildings, ad⯑mirable accommodation for foot-paſſengers, and for the convenience [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, be⯑cauſe he cannot live ſo well in France, but for more amiable rea⯑ſons. 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 [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 ex⯑perience 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 [126] of his poorer miniſters, becauſe, perhaps, there is ſome difference in the exterior ceremonies of a na⯑tional devotion. Nay, I have ſeen other exceptions to a deplorable ge⯑neral 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 faith⯑ful ſervant of a maſter, whoſe ſacred image you have wantonly offended."

[127]With this noble climax, the of⯑fended Franciſcan finiſhed his exhor⯑tation and remonſtrance. Never, ſurely, was there obſerved ten mi⯑nutes (for he ſpoke with delibera⯑tion) of profounder ſilence.

Saint Paul, at the time of his making Felix tremble, could not poſſibly have commanded a more perfect attention. There was, in⯑deed, 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 ar⯑gument, and his heart gave ſuch [128] animation to his face, and ſuch elo⯑quence to his tongue, that he led his hearers into implicit captivity. The little apartment was, in itſelf, an ob⯑ject 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 en⯑chantment, 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 [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 il⯑luſtrated, when the youth, who had thrown the handkerchief over the crucifix, ſtole it, as it were, imper⯑ceptibly 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 toge⯑ther involuntarily, and went on tip⯑toe, 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 [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 urbani⯑ty: 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 [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 pro⯑per 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 [133] matter before, but this offer recalled the tranſaction; and, although a twentieth part of the ſum would have been acceptable ſome time be⯑fore, there were now many inſuper⯑able objections. The noble inde⯑pendency of his late eloquence was not the leaſt of theſe: inſtead, there⯑fore, of receiving it, he tarried a⯑while till the heart beat pacifically, and then declined it with a good grace. The interval, however, be⯑twixt 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 [132] [...] [133] [...] [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, diſ⯑ordered, 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 live⯑ly. I ſtood facing both parties, and beheld the whole proceſs. The co⯑lour of the friar ſoftened every mo⯑ment more and more, like the traits in a rainbow in the ſummer, till all that was called up from other quar⯑ters of the frame, gently retired into [135] the proper veſſels, and only left a glow of dignity and congratulation, as the ſymptom of a recent excel⯑lence: 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 crim⯑ſoned 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, not⯑withſtanding this, verged off, tardi⯑ly; and I know not how long it [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, diſ⯑criminations 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 [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 ap⯑pear 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 opera⯑tions! I would ſteal an enraptured glance at thee, oh thou wonder-working power! while thou wert [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 ſi⯑lently ſit me down in ſome unob⯑ſerved corner, and watch thy work⯑ings: and, when it was denied me to view thee in the fuller manifeſta⯑tion of thy glory, I would be con⯑tent 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 [140] —is precious to thy votaries; and neither watchings, nor feaſtings, nor faſtings, nor ſorrows, nor ſick⯑neſſes, 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 [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 melt⯑ing accent). The helmet which they, a little while ago, carried ſo proudly in the air, as a ſtreamer [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 re⯑proach is the beſt thing in the uni⯑verſe 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 play⯑houſe."

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

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

[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 Sun⯑day? (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).

[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); [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 argu⯑ment.

[147]"It is ſo (replied the officer); and ought, therefore, to be more parti⯑cularly diſtinguiſhed by additional marks of joy! What good purpoſe is affected by that gloom, which hangs over this day in your coun⯑try. It is permitted in England to reſt from toil every ſeventh day; ſo it is in France. It is or⯑dained 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, [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 incli⯑nation to ſuch beaſtly exceſſes. We worſhip God not with a frown⯑ing 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 no⯑thing ſuitable to the genius of true piety, in impoſing upon our⯑ſelves unchearful cuſtoms.

[149]The morning we uſher in with ſongs of gratitude, and the even⯑ing 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 [150] ſolemnity, which hath no founda⯑tion in reaſon. We have in France no inebriety, no oaths, no blaſ⯑phemies, 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 un⯑acquainted 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 diſ⯑perſed without the intervention of a [151] magiſtrate, unleſs one of the par⯑ties 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 vil⯑lages on the evening of the Sabbath, may hear them reſound with the oaths of drunken men in the adja⯑cent 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, un⯑revenged, the inſults of a man when he is in the ſtate of a brute.

"The French on the contrary—"

[152]"Pray, Sir (ſaid Amelia, inter⯑rupting him) will you have the good⯑neſs 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 acqui⯑eſcence, 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, in⯑ſtead of ſitting down in the pit upon benches, as in England, ſtood up the whole time. "This is ſtrangely aukward, and incommodious (ſaid Prejudice."

[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 appear⯑ing to the audience, through a trap⯑door, upon the ſtage, inſtead of con⯑cealing himſelf, for the ſake of dra⯑matic probability, behind the ſide wings of the ſcene."

"Hold your tongue (cried Libera⯑lity); it is the cuſtom of the country."

"The audience abſolutely ſtuns one (ſaid Amelia) with their violent con⯑verſation between the acts, although, [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 ſen⯑tence, 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 voy⯑age round the globe. The cuſtom of [155] a country ſhould ſanctify every thing that is ſingular, either in religion or in manners. Though vice and vir⯑tue are invariably the ſame, modes and maxims differ in almoſt every place. He who confines himſelf to one country, will, generally, be con⯑fined to one ſet of ideas, while he who travels will think more large⯑ly, 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 [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 per⯑plexity. You have already ſeen, that what is thought to be a pious ob⯑ſervance of religion in one country, is, twenty-one miles of, not ima⯑gined 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 [157] country, is inverted. Thus, cha⯑racters 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 [158] China, they neither adopt the food nor the opinions of the French The natives of the ſouthern hemiſphere aſſimilate themſelves not to the Chi⯑neſe, and yet they are very excellent people who inhabit all thoſe coun⯑tries. Learn, therefore, to believe, that every thing which is decent, wiſe and innocent, may be prac⯑tiſed 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 [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 [160] the ſtreet, and thanked him for hav⯑ing 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, (con⯑tinued 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 [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 ſcrap⯑ings 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."

[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, lean⯑ing 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 handker⯑chief remained up to his eyes, as I paſſed by him, three times; but when, in going by him, the fourth [163] time, I diſcovered, in his woe-wan features, the lover of the unfortu⯑nate 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 an⯑ſwered, Monſieur, (ſaid he). I am diſguſted with the feſtivity, of which it is impoſſible for me to partake: a healthy-looking blythe girl, of⯑fered juſt now to dance with me, but I had no pleaſure in the touch of her hand; and, as I could not con⯑ceive 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 [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 Mon⯑ſieur, 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, [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 aſ⯑ſured 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."

[166]"Where are your travelling ex⯑pences? (ſaid I).

"Here (cried the youth, with great confidence). My expences will be de⯑frayed 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."

[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 [169] him! Now, I have been thinking, that—"

I was interrupted by the maſter of the hotel, who appeared to ac⯑quaint me, that the young gentle⯑men in the private room had altered their mind, as to going by the dili⯑gence; and, very ſoon after we de⯑parted 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 ab⯑ſence, [170] to ſave the pride of the heart any farther mortification at our re⯑turn, was a ſymptom of ſenſibility, and might, in time, bring about de⯑ſireable improvements; but their reſolution to travel night and day, till they got to Paris, denoted a vio⯑lent 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 apro⯑pos to any mortal breathing, as this [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 baſ⯑ket of the diligence, my good fel⯑low (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 [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 miſ⯑treſs; eſpecially, if there was a proper ſhare of danger or of diffi⯑culty 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 de⯑fiance of fatigue: the ſuſtaining idea of an imaginary goddeſs, to ſoothe him when the journey is over, will carry him through it.

[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 re⯑cover themſelves.

[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 ac⯑compliſh 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.

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

The Louis, the baſket, the trea⯑ſure, up five pair of ſtairs, and the reſcued ſpangled edging, which, not⯑withſtanding his affected diſregard, was not wholly indifferent to him, all conjoined to touch upon the nerves of the barber, till nature (who [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 pro⯑poſing a better reſource, in the ſale of the little picture at his boſom.

Senſibility threw him into an ad⯑mirable ſituation; and, if I could properly deſcribe it, would do me as much honour as it did him. [177] "Sacre Dieu! (exclaimed he, lay⯑ing his right hand haſtily on his ſword, and then as haſtily drawing it away again, without drawing the ſword, as if checked by the recollec⯑tion 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 trembl⯑ing fingers, round my neck? Did ſhe not place it upon my boſom as a pledge of my fidelity in all my wanderings?—"

[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 but⯑toning 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 inflict⯑ed upon the barber's, whom I left in a hurry to look after my cabinet.

[179]Ah, ſelf, ſelf, how doſt thou cling about us! While the trifle of thy own heart is ſecure, and circum⯑ſtances are all ſmiling about thee; how doſt thou ſport with the play⯑things 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 [180] down upon my pillow, and aroſe from it in the morning, in the ſor⯑row of my heart.

MY LORDS ANGLOIS.

MY fears in relation to the Eng⯑liſh 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 avoid⯑ed making it mine alſo. Thy went by the way of Abbeville; conſe⯑quently, 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 ſtage⯑coach [182] a greater evil than the for⯑feiture 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 country⯑men, who have contributed largely to inſpire every inn-keeper with un⯑favourable 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 [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 ac⯑count, 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 [184] oaths in an unknown language had ſummoned to their chamber win⯑dows), 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 num⯑ber of horſes, Amelia ſitting ſoberly [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 cer⯑tainly 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 [186] appeared ten times more like Hol⯑landers 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 [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 [188] certainly the beſt town betwixt Amiens and Calais, yet Amiens was a worſe town than they ever had the misfortune to ſee, be⯑fore they came to France. They were conducted along the beau⯑tiful banks of the Somme, on which this town is ſituated; and, though the plains before them are luxuriantly cultivated, ſo as to pre⯑ſent 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 [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 hap⯑pened 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 [190] and at a very ſmall expence, they ſet up as proper objects of ridicule and contempt.

"Our Burgundy and Cham⯑paigne, 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 raviſh⯑ing 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 king⯑doms. In their opinion too Sir, [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, notwithſtand⯑ing 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 con⯑ceited, or the Engliſh are very hard to pleaſe. Amongſt other things (reſumed the landlord, after a pauſe) [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 com⯑pliance, ſo far, at leaſt, with the cuſtom, as to make way for its go⯑ing by. The guide, whom I ſent with them, whiſpered, very reſpect⯑fully, 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 re⯑ligion, [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 de⯑tachment of the king's body-guards, which are ſtationed here, had not, half by force, and half by perſua⯑ſion, convinced them of their per⯑ſonal danger. After the prieſts were gone by, one of the travellers mut⯑tered to the other, that thoſe fellows in their white robes, and formal faces, ought to come under the va⯑gabond act, and be puniſhed accord⯑ingly,"

[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 enjoy⯑ment, without conſidering the en⯑joyments of ſociety, beſtir itſelf. Self-intereſt repreſented the imme⯑diate 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.

[196]"What your heart is now ſug⯑geſting, is very well worth attend⯑ing 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 A⯑melia.

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 noble⯑man's ſervant, who had, it ſeems, laid his unmerciful hands upon all the beſt cattle. "Ah wretch with⯑out a conſcience! (ſaid mine hoſt): he hath ſeized upon the flower of [197] my fields, and the pride of my paſtures: nay, even thee, my be⯑loved Silver-locks, thou moſt beau⯑tiful 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 un⯑hallowed 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 ut⯑tered with the moſt violent exertions [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 de⯑licate to bear the hard blows of ſuch a rider, as the blood upon thy ſpur ſhews thee to be. This ſoft [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, ſe⯑perated from the reſt."

This romantic harangue was an⯑ſwered 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: im⯑mediately [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.

[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!" ex⯑claimed 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 [202] reſponſe was carried to a neighbour⯑ing copſe, which ſent off the ſound with ſtill more vigorous vibrations.

By this time, the barber was tug⯑ging 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 dex⯑terouſly ſlipped the girths to ſee the ſad⯑dle turn compleatly round, and lay his enemy level with the duſt, di⯑rectly 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 pro⯑ſtrate foe ſuch a recriminating crack [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 no⯑thing [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 com⯑plimenting himſelf and Silver-locks upon the iſſue of the victory. Silver-locks, to ſhew that he was not in⯑grateful, whinneyed forth his ſatiſ⯑faction, while, in return for that token of ſenſibility, the humane bar⯑ber 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 [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 travel⯑ling cloak, ornamented by a abroad border of gold tape; a pair of ſcar⯑let ſtuff breeches covered his thighs, [206] and a pair of enormous boots con⯑cealed 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 glit⯑tered in the gaudineſs of edging; a couteau de chaſe of dreadful ſize, well ſtudded with ſilver, glittered at his ſide; and his hair, though na⯑ture had not allowed him any re⯑dundance [207] of it, was, by the art of the friſſeur, ſupplied by a weight of powder and pomatum, which glori⯑ouſly 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 ex⯑hibited 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 con⯑tempt.

[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 fune⯑ral 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 [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 [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:" whiſ⯑pered Amelia.

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

The vanity of the landlord, how⯑ever, was ſo much tickled at our [211] hero's compliments upon France, that he quite forgot the inſult offer⯑ed 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 re⯑turned diſappointed from the ſtable, out of which he could only get two miſerably-meagre ſteeds, whoſe ſo⯑ciety 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 [212] harneſſed, and which he himſelf helped to put to our carriage, as if diſdaining to be ſerved by the land⯑lord, 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 [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 re⯑turn, after a week's or a month's ſtaring at the worſt part of France, he hath imbibed ſo thorough a de⯑teſtation 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 in⯑debted to any ſecond perſon, he [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 re⯑peating the laſt ſentence, within ear-ſhot of a perſon, who was ſit⯑ting 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 [216] to his miſtreſs, I treated him with more deference than is thought ge⯑nerally 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 him⯑ſelf, 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 ſuppoſi⯑tion. With reſpect to the girls and boys who, for mere faſhion's ſake export and import themſelves to [217] and from the Continent, thoſe I reckon as a ſet of uneſtabliſhed characters which have neither weight, or influence in any coun⯑try. 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 cor⯑rectly, but wildly and, as a miſ⯑cellany, in miſerable confuſion. But, from the conduct or the ſen⯑timents 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 cha⯑racteriſtics of the nation from [218] which they came? Depend on it madam, ſuch vagrants, ſuch wan⯑derers 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 in⯑ſtance [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 grati⯑fied. 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 [220] occaſions, I find matters exceedingly upon a level. We have circum⯑ſtance of beauty and benefit in particular parts of France; which are not to be found in England: on the other hand we have in Eng⯑land 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 ele⯑gance.

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 im⯑poſſible [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 in⯑ſincerity, 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 inſe⯑cure; that in France, we ſhould look around us in vain for that [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 regi⯑mentals; that the nobleſſe of France ſhut out the peaſants from the com⯑forts 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—miſrepreſenta⯑tions. [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 [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 vegeta⯑tion of France preſents a proſpect of luxury, not inferior to the moſt fertile parts of England. With re⯑ſpect to bodily endowments, the farther you travel into the king⯑dom, 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 thin⯑neſs. Upon the whole the inha⯑bitants of both countries have equal [225] reaſon to imagine that the provi⯑dence under which they are govern⯑ed, 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 thou⯑ſand 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, Ma⯑dam, but I love England. To the one I pay only a viſit, but the other, as the ſong ſays, is my home."

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

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

The gallant Garhon of the fair Felicity (whoſe hiſtory, will, here⯑after, become more intereſting) announced to us that the horſes were ready: we jointly wiſhed the impartial and unprejudiced traveller [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 ſitu⯑ated in the Rue Jacob. It is the bu⯑ſineſs of memory to repreſent, faith⯑fully, 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, [229] when the cherub philanthropy, who ſpoke from the lips of Amelia, per⯑ceived 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 tra⯑verſed a fruitful and excellent coun⯑try: we have met hoſpitality on the way. Sometimes we have met impoſition; but for that, we are in⯑debted to the folly of our own coun⯑trymen. We have brought our excurſion to a temporary period: we are in the capital of France. Here, we ſhall pauſe, at leaſt till we [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 ad⯑duces 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, [231] every thing that is uſeful, and beau⯑tiful, 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 elo⯑quence 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 [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 defence⯑leſs widow; a widow too, over whoſe wounds the oppoſite party are rejoicing! How richly culti⯑vated 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 [333] every valley, and the foreſts, which afford a ſhade to the ſhep⯑herd and to the philoſopher, with every other ſcene that is now wav⯑ing in the voluptuouſneſs of ſum⯑mer plenty, might, ere they were gilded by the beams of to-morrow's ſun, be utterly extirpated. The rapacious genius of battle, attend⯑ed 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 preg⯑nant territory are ripening for the ſickle: alas! they might all yield ſuddenly to the ſword of an in⯑ſatiate conqueror. Admit into the [234] ſweet ſcene which you are con⯑templating, 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 em⯑broider the ſides of them: the harveſt is expected, and all is ho⯑liday in the heart of the huſband⯑man, 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 [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 ma⯑turating favour, is proportioned to the neceſſities of univerſal vegeta⯑tion, 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 [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 philan⯑thropy 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 con⯑tinue ſo!"

[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 de⯑lightful 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 [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 [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.