A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY

They order, said I, this matter better in France. --You have been inFrance? said my gentleman, turning quick upon me, with the mostcivil triumph in the world. --Strange! quoth I, debating the matterwith myself, That one and twenty miles sailing, for 'tis absolutelyno further from Dover to Calais, should give a man these rights: --I'll look into them: so, giving up the argument, --I went straightto my lodgings, put up half a dozen shirts and a black pair of silkbreeches, --"the coat I have on, " said I, looking at the sleeve, "will do;"--took a place in the Dover stage; and the packet sailingat nine the next morning, --by three I had got sat down to my dinnerupon a fricaseed chicken, so incontestably in France, that had Idied that night of an indigestion, the whole world could not havesuspended the effects of the droits d'aubaine;--my shirts, andblack pair of silk breeches, --portmanteau and all, must have goneto the King of France;--even the little picture which I have solong worn, and so often have told thee, Eliza, I would carry withme into my grave, would have been torn from my neck!--Ungenerous!to seize upon the wreck of an unwary passenger, whom your subjectshad beckoned to their coast!--By heaven! Sire, it is not welldone; and much does it grieve me, 'tis the monarch of a people socivilized and courteous, and so renowned for sentiment and finefeelings, that I have to reason with! -

But I have scarce set a foot in your dominions. -

CALAIS. 

When I had fished my dinner, and drank the King of France's health, to satisfy my mind that I bore him no spleen, but, on the contrary, high honour for the humanity of his temper, --I rose up an inchtaller for the accommodation. 

- No--said I--the Bourbon is by no means a cruel race: they may bemisled, like other people; but there is a mildness in their blood. As I acknowledged this, I felt a suffusion of a finer kind upon mycheek--more warm and friendly to man, than what Burgundy (at leastof two livres a bottle, which was such as I had been drinking)could have produced. 

- Just God! said I, kicking my portmanteau aside, what is there inthis world's goods which should sharpen our spirits, and make somany kind-hearted brethren of us fall out so cruelly as we do bythe way?

When man is at peace with man, how much lighter than a feather isthe heaviest of metals in his hand! he pulls out his purse, andholding it airily and uncompressed, looks round him, as if hesought for an object to share it with. --In doing this, I felt everyvessel in my frame dilate, --the arteries beat all cheerilytogether, and every power which sustained life, performed it withso little friction, that 'twould have confounded the most physicalprecieuse in France; with all her materialism, she could scarcehave called me a machine. -

I'm confident, said I to myself, I should have overset her creed. 

The accession of that idea carried nature, at that time, as high asshe could go;--I was at peace with the world before, and thisfinish'd the treaty with myself. -

- Now, was I King of France, cried I--what a moment for an orphanto have begg'd his father's portmanteau of me!

THE MONK. CALAIS. 

I had scarce uttered the words, when a poor monk of the order ofSt. Francis came into the room to beg something for a his convent. No man cares to have his virtues the sport of contingencies--or oneman may be generous, as another is puissant;--sed non quoad hanc--or be it as it may, --for there is no regular reasoning upon theebbs and flows of our humours; they may depend upon the samecauses, for aught I know, which influence the tides themselves:'twould oft be no discredit to us, to suppose it was so: I'm sureat least for myself, that in many a case I should be more highlysatisfied, to have it said by the world, "I had had an affair withthe moon, in which there was neither sin nor shame, " than have itpass altogether as my own act and deed, wherein there was so muchof both. 

- But, be this as it may, --the moment I cast my eyes upon him, Iwas predetermined not to give him a single sous; and, accordingly, I put my purse into my pocket--buttoned it--set myself a littlemore upon my centre, and advanced up gravely to him; there wassomething, I fear, forbidding in my look: I have his figure thismoment before my eyes, and think there was that in it whichdeserved better. 

The monk, as I judged by the break in his tonsure, a few scatteredwhite hairs upon his temples, being all that remained of it, mightbe about seventy;--but from his eyes, and that sort of fire whichwas in them, which seemed more temper'd by courtesy than years, could be no more than sixty: --Truth might lie between--He wascertainly sixty-five; and the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something seem'd to have been planting-wrinkles init before their time, agreed to the account. 

It was one of those heads which Guido has often painted, --mild, pale--penetrating, free from all commonplace ideas of fat contentedignorance looking downwards upon the earth;--it look'd forwards;but look'd as if it look'd at something beyond this world. --How oneof his order came by it, heaven above, who let it fall upon amonk's shoulders best knows: but it would have suited a Bramin, and had I met it upon the plains of Indostan, I had reverenced it. 

The rest of his outline may be given in a few strokes; one mightput it into the hands of any one to design, for 'twas neitherelegant nor otherwise, but as character and expression made it so:it was a thin, spare form, something above the common size, if itlost not the distinction by a bend forward in the figure, --but itwas the attitude of Intreaty; and, as it now stands presented to myimagination, it gained more than it lost by it. 

When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; andlaying his left hand upon his breast (a slender white staff withwhich he journey'd being in his right)--when I had got close up tohim, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants ofhis convent, and the poverty of his order;--and did it with sosimple a grace, --and such an air of deprecation was there in thewhole cast of his look and figure, --I was bewitch'd not to havebeen struck with it. 

- A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a singlesous. 

THE MONK. CALAIS. 

- 'Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with which he had concluded his address;--'tis very true, --andheaven be their resource who have no other but the charity of theworld, the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for themany GREAT CLAIMS which are hourly made upon it. 

As I pronounced the words GREAT CLAIMS, he gave a slight glancewith his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic: --I felt thefull force of the appeal--I acknowledge it, said I: --a coarsehabit, and that but once in three years with meagre diet, --are nogreat matters; and the true point of pity is, as they can be earn'din the world with so little industry, that your order should wishto procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property ofthe lame, the blind, the aged and the infirm;--the captive who liesdown counting over and over again the days of his afflictions, languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the ORDEROF MERCY, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am, continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully should ithave been open'd to you, for the ransom of the unfortunate. --Themonk made me a bow. --But of all others, resumed I, the unfortunateof our own country, surely, have the first rights; and I have leftthousands in distress upon our own shore. --The monk gave a cordialwave with his head, --as much as to say, No doubt there is miseryenough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent--But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve of histunic, in return for his appeal--we distinguish, my good father!betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labour--and those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no otherplan in life, but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, FOR THELOVE OF GOD. 

The poor Franciscan made no reply: a hectic of a moment pass'dacross his cheek, but could not tarry--Nature seemed to have donewith her resentments in him;--he showed none: --but letting hisstaff fall within his arms, he pressed both his hands withresignation upon his breast, and retired. 

THE MONK. CALAIS. 

My heart smote me the moment he shut the door--Psha! said I, withan air of carelessness, three several times--but it would not do:every ungracious syllable I had utter'd crowded back into myimagination: I reflected, I had no right over the poor Franciscan, but to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to thedisappointed, without the addition of unkind language. --Iconsider'd his gray hairs--his courteous figure seem'd to re-enterand gently ask me what injury he had done me?--and why I could usehim thus?--I would have given twenty livres for an advocate. --Ihave behaved very ill, said I within myself; but I have only justset out upon my travels; and shall learn better manners as I getalong. 

THE DESOBLIGEANT. CALAIS. 

When a man is discontented with himself, it has one advantagehowever, that it puts him into an excellent frame of mind formaking a bargain. Now there being no travelling through France andItaly without a chaise, --and nature generally prompting us to thething we are fittest for, I walk'd out into the coach-yard to buyor hire something of that kind to my purpose: an old desobligeantin the furthest corner of the court, hit my fancy at first sight, so I instantly got into it, and finding it in tolerable harmonywith my feelings, I ordered the waiter to call Monsieur Dessein, the master of the hotel: --but Monsieur Dessein being gone tovespers, and not caring to face the Franciscan, whom I saw on theopposite side of the court, in conference with a lady just arrivedat the inn, --I drew the taffeta curtain betwixt us, and beingdetermined to write my journey, I took out my pen and ink and wrotethe preface to it in the desobligeant. 

PREFACE. IN THE DESOBLIGEANT. 

It must have been observed by many a peripatetic philosopher, Thatnature has set up by her own unquestionable authority certainboundaries and fences to circumscribe the discontent of man; shehas effected her purpose in the quietest and easiest manner bylaying him under almost insuperable obligations to work out hisease, and to sustain his sufferings at home. It is there only thatshe has provided him with the most suitable objects to partake ofhis happiness, and bear a part of that burden which in allcountries and ages has ever been too heavy for one pair ofshoulders. 'Tis true, we are endued with an imperfect power ofspreading our happiness sometimes beyond HER limits, but 'tis soordered, that, from the want of languages, connections, anddependencies, and from the difference in education, customs, andhabits, we lie under so many impediments in communicating oursensations out of our own sphere, as often amount to a totalimpossibility. 

It will always follow from hence, that the balance of sentimentalcommerce is always against the expatriated adventurer: he must buywhat he has little occasion for, at their own price;--hisconversation will seldom be taken in exchange for theirs without alarge discount, --and this, by the by, eternally driving him intothe hands of more equitable brokers, for such conversation as hecan find, it requires no great spirit of divination to guess at hisparty -

This brings me to my point; and naturally leads me (if the see-sawof this desobligeant will but let me get on) into the efficient aswell as final causes of travelling -

Your idle people that leave their native country, and go abroad forsome reason or reasons which may be derived from one of thesegeneral causes:-

Infirmity of body, Imbecility of mind, orInevitable necessity. 

The first two include all those who travel by land or by water, labouring with pride, curiosity, vanity, or spleen, subdivided andcombined ad infinitum. 

The third class includes the whole army of peregrine martyrs; moreespecially those travellers who set out upon their travels with thebenefit of the clergy, either as delinquents travelling under thedirection of governors recommended by the magistrate;--or younggentlemen transported by the cruelty of parents and guardians, andtravelling under the direction of governors recommended by Oxford, Aberdeen, and Glasgow. 

There is a fourth class, but their number is so small that theywould not deserve a distinction, were it not necessary in a work ofthis nature to observe the greatest precision and nicety, to avoida confusion of character. And these men I speak of, are such ascross the seas and sojourn in a land of strangers, with a view ofsaving money for various reasons and upon various pretences: butas they might also save themselves and others a great deal ofunnecessary trouble by saving their money at home, --and as theirreasons for travelling are the least complex of any other speciesof emigrants, I shall distinguish these gentlemen by the name of

Simple Travellers. 

Thus the whole circle of travellers may be reduced to the followingHEADS:-

Idle Travellers, Inquisitive Travellers, Lying Travellers, Proud Travellers, Vain Travellers, Splenetic Travellers. 

Then follow:

The Travellers of Necessity, The Delinquent and Felonious Traveller, The Unfortunate and Innocent Traveller, The Simple Traveller, And last of all (if you please) The Sentimental Traveller, (meaningthereby myself) who have travell'd, and of which I am now sittingdown to give an account, --as much out of NECESSITY, and the besoinde Voyager, as any one in the class. 

I am well aware, at the same time, as both my travels andobservations will be altogether of a different cast from any of myforerunners, that I might have insisted upon a whole nitch entirelyto myself;--but I should break in upon the confines of the VAINTraveller, in wishing to draw attention towards me, till I havesome better grounds for it than the mere NOVELTY OF MY VEHICLE. 

It is sufficient for my reader, if he has been a traveller himself, that with study and reflection hereupon he may be able to determinehis own place and rank in the catalogue;--it will be one steptowards knowing himself; as it is great odds but he retains sometincture and resemblance, of what he imbibed or carried out, to thepresent hour. 

The man who first transplanted the grape of Burgundy to the Cape ofGood Hope (observe he was a Dutchman) never dreamt of drinking thesame wine at the Cape, that the same grape produced upon the Frenchmountains, --he was too phlegmatic for that--but undoubtedly heexpected to drink some sort of vinous liquor; but whether good orbad, or indifferent, --he knew enough of this world to know, that itdid not depend upon his choice, but that what is generally calledCHOICE, was to decide his success: however, he hoped for the best;and in these hopes, by an intemperate confidence in the fortitudeof his head, and the depth of his discretion, Mynheer mightpossibly oversee both in his new vineyard; and by discovering hisnakedness, become a laughing stock to his people. 

Even so it fares with the Poor Traveller, sailing and postingthrough the politer kingdoms of the globe, in pursuit of knowledgeand improvements. 

Knowledge and improvements are to be got by sailing and posting forthat purpose; but whether useful knowledge and real improvements isall a lottery;--and even where the adventurer is successful, theacquired stock must be used with caution and sobriety, to turn toany profit: --but, as the chances run prodigiously the other way, both as to the acquisition and application, I am of opinion, That aman would act as wisely, if he could prevail upon himself to livecontented without foreign knowledge or foreign improvements, especially if he lives in a country that has no absolute want ofeither;--and indeed, much grief of heart has it oft and many a timecost me, when I have observed how many a foul step the InquisitiveTraveller has measured to see sights and look into discoveries; allwhich, as Sancho Panza said to Don Quixote, they might have seendry-shod at home. It is an age so full of light, that there isscarce a country or corner in Europe whose beams are not crossedand interchanged with others. --Knowledge in most of its branches, and in most affairs, is like music in an Italian street, whereofthose may partake who pay nothing. --But there is no nation underheaven--and God is my record (before whose tribunal I must one daycome and give an account of this work)--that I do not speak itvauntingly, --but there is no nation under heaven abounding withmore variety of learning, --where the sciences may be more fitlywoo'd, or more surely won, than here, --where art is encouraged, andwill so soon rise high, --where Nature (take her altogether) has solittle to answer for, --and, to close all, where there is more witand variety of character to feed the mind with: --Where then, mydear countrymen, are you going? -

We are only looking at this chaise, said they. --Your most obedientservant, said I, skipping out of it, and pulling off my hat. --Wewere wondering, said one of them, who, I found was an InquisitiveTraveller, --what could occasion its motion. --'Twas the agitation, said I, coolly, of writing a preface. --I never heard, said theother, who was a Simple Traveller, of a preface wrote in adesobligeant. --It would have been better, said I, in a vis-a-vis. 

- As an Englishman does not travel to see Englishmen, I retired tomy room. 

CALAIS. 

I perceived that something darken'd the passage more than myself, as I stepp'd along it to my room; it was effectually Mons. Dessein, the master of the hotel, who had just returned from vespers, andwith his hat under his arm, was most complaisantly following me, toput me in mind of my wants. I had wrote myself pretty well out ofconceit with the desobligeant, and Mons. Dessein speaking of it, with a shrug, as if it would no way suit me, it immediately struckmy fancy that it belong'd to some Innocent Traveller, who, on hisreturn home, had left it to Mons. Dessein's honour to make the mostof. Four months had elapsed since it had finished its career ofEurope in the corner of Mons. Dessein's coach-yard; and havingsallied out from thence but a vampt-up business at the first, though it had been twice taken to pieces on Mount Sennis, it hadnot profited much by its adventures, --but by none so little as thestanding so many months unpitied in the corner of Mons. Dessein'scoach-yard. Much indeed was not to be said for it, --but somethingmight;--and when a few words will rescue misery out of herdistress, I hate the man who can be a churl of them. 

- Now was I the master of this hotel, said I, laying the point ofmy fore-finger on Mons. Dessein's breast, I would inevitably make apoint of getting rid of this unfortunate desobligeant;--it standsswinging reproaches at you every time you pass by it. 

Mon Dieu! said Mons. Dessein, --I have no interest--Except theinterest, said I, which men of a certain turn of mind take, Mons. Dessein, in their own sensations, --I'm persuaded, to a man whofeels for others as well as for himself, every rainy night, disguise it as you will, must cast a damp upon your spirits: --Yousuffer, Mons. Dessein, as much as the machine -

I have always observed, when there is as much sour as sweet in acompliment, that an Englishman is eternally at a loss withinhimself, whether to take it, or let it alone: a Frenchman neveris: Mons. Dessein made me a bow. 

C'est bien vrai, said he. --But in this case I should only exchangeone disquietude for another, and with loss: figure to yourself, mydear Sir, that in giving you a chaise which would fall to piecesbefore you had got half-way to Paris, --figure to yourself how muchI should suffer, in giving an ill impression of myself to a man ofhonour, and lying at the mercy, as I must do, d'un homme d'esprit. 

The dose was made up exactly after my own prescription; so I couldnot help tasting it, --and, returning Mons. Dessein his bow, withoutmore casuistry we walk'd together towards his Remise, to take aview of his magazine of chaises. 

IN THE STREET. CALAIS. 

It must needs be a hostile kind of a world, when the buyer (if itbe but of a sorry post-chaise) cannot go forth with the sellerthereof into the street to terminate the difference betwixt them, but he instantly falls into the same frame of mind, and views hisconventionist with the same sort of eye, as if he was going alongwith him to Hyde-park corner to fight a duel. For my own part, being but a poor swordsman, and no way a match for MonsieurDessein, I felt the rotation of all the movements within me, towhich the situation is incident;--I looked at Monsieur Desseinthrough and through--eyed him as he walk'd along in profile, --then, en face;--thought like a Jew, --then a Turk, --disliked his wig, --cursed him by my gods, --wished him at the devil. -

- And is all this to be lighted up in the heart for a beggarlyaccount of three or four louis d'ors, which is the most I can beoverreached in?--Base passion! said I, turning myself about, as aman naturally does upon a sudden reverse of sentiment, --base, ungentle passion! thy hand is against every man, and every man'shand against thee. --Heaven forbid! said she, raising her hand up toher forehead, for I had turned full in front upon the lady whom Ihad seen in conference with the monk: --she had followed usunperceived. --Heaven forbid, indeed! said I, offering her my own;--she had a black pair of silk gloves, open only at the thumb and twofore-fingers, so accepted it without reserve, --and I led her up tothe door of the Remise. 

Monsieur Dessein had diabled the key above fifty times before hehad found out he had come with a wrong one in his hand: we were asimpatient as himself to have it opened; and so attentive to theobstacle that I continued holding her hand almost without knowingit: so that Monsieur Dessein left us together with her hand inmine, and with our faces turned towards the door of the Remise, andsaid he would be back in five minutes. 

Now a colloquy of five minutes, in such a situation, is worth oneof as many ages, with your faces turned towards the street: in thelatter case, 'tis drawn from the objects and occurrences without;--when your eyes are fixed upon a dead blank, --you draw purely fromyourselves. A silence of a single moment upon Mons. Dessein'sleaving us, had been fatal to the situation--she had infalliblyturned about;--so I begun the conversation instantly. -

- But what were the temptations (as I write not to apologize forthe weaknesses of my heart in this tour, --but to give an account ofthem)--shall be described with the same simplicity with which Ifelt them. 

THE REMISE DOOR. CALAIS. 

When I told the reader that I did not care to get out of thedesobligeant, because I saw the monk in close conference with alady just arrived at the inn--I told him the truth, --but I did nottell him the whole truth; for I was as full as much restrained bythe appearance and figure of the lady he was talking to. Suspicioncrossed my brain and said, he was telling her what had passed:something jarred upon it within me, --I wished him at his convent. 

When the heart flies out before the understanding, it saves thejudgment a world of pains. --I was certain she was of a better orderof beings;--however, I thought no more of her, but went on andwrote my preface. 

The impression returned upon my encounter with her in the street; aguarded frankness with which she gave me her hand, showed, Ithought, her good education and her good sense; and as I led heron, I felt a pleasurable ductility about her, which spread acalmness over all my spirits -

- Good God! how a man might lead such a creature as this round theworld with him! -

I had not yet seen her face--'twas not material: for the drawingwas instantly set about, and long before we had got to the door ofthe Remise, Fancy had finished the whole head, and pleased herselfas much with its fitting her goddess, as if she had dived into theTiber for it;--but thou art a seduced, and a seducing slut; andalbeit thou cheatest us seven times a day with thy pictures andimages, yet with so many charms dost thou do it, and thou deckestout thy pictures in the shapes of so many angels of light, 'tis ashame to break with thee. 

When we had got to the door of the Remise, she withdrew her handfrom across her forehead, and let me see the original: --it was aface of about six-and-twenty, --of a clear transparent brown, simplyset off without rouge or powder;--it was not critically handsome, but there was that in it, which, in the frame of mind I was in, attached me much more to it, --it was interesting: I fancied itwore the characters of a widow'd look, and in that state of itsdeclension, which had passed the two first paroxysms of sorrow, andwas quietly beginning to reconcile itself to its loss;--but athousand other distresses might have traced the same lines; Iwish'd to know what they had been--and was ready to inquire, (hadthe same bon ton of conversation permitted, as in the days ofEsdras)--"What ailelh thee? and why art thou disquieted? and why isthy understanding troubled?"--In a word, I felt benevolence forher; and resolv'd some way or other to throw in my mite ofcourtesy, --if not of service. 

Such were my temptations;--and in this disposition to give way tothem, was I left alone with the lady with her hand in mine, andwith our faces both turned closer to the door of the Remise thanwhat was absolutely necessary. 

THE REMISE DOOR. CALAIS. 

This certainly, fair lady, said I, raising her hand up littlelightly as I began, must be one of Fortune's whimsical doings; totake two utter strangers by their hands, --of different sexes, andperhaps from different corners of the globe, and in one momentplace them together in such a cordial situation as Friendshipherself could scarce have achieved for them, had she projected itfor a month. 

- And your reflection upon it shows how much, Monsieur, she hasembarrassed you by the adventure -

When the situation is what we would wish, nothing is so ill-timedas to hint at the circumstances which make it so: you thankFortune, continued she--you had reason--the heart knew it, and wassatisfied; and who but an English philosopher would have sentnotice of it to the brain to reverse the judgment?

In saying this, she disengaged her hand with a look which I thoughta sufficient commentary upon the text. 

It is a miserable picture which I am going to give of the weaknessof my heart, by owning, that it suffered a pain, which worthieroccasions could not have inflicted. --I was mortified with the lossof her hand, and the manner in which I had lost it carried neitheroil nor wine to the wound: I never felt the pain of a sheepishinferiority so miserably in my life. 

The triumphs of a true feminine heart are short upon thesediscomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon thecuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply; so, some way orother, God knows how, I regained my situation. 

- She had nothing to add. 

I forthwith began to model a different conversation for the lady, thinking from the spirit as well as moral of this, that I had beenmistaken in her character; but upon turning her face towards me, the spirit which had animated the reply was fled, --the musclesrelaxed, and I beheld the same unprotected look of distress whichfirst won me to her interest: --melancholy! to see suchsprightliness the prey of sorrow, --I pitied her from my soul; andthough it may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid heart, --I couldhave taken her into my arms, and cherished her, though it was inthe open street, without brushing. 

The pulsations of the arteries along my fingers pressing acrosshers, told her what was passing within me: she looked down--asilence of some moments followed. 

I fear in this interval, I must have made some slight effortstowards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation Ifelt in the palm of my own, --not as if she was going to withdrawhers--but as if she thought about it;--and I had infallibly lost ita second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to thelast resource in these dangers, --to hold it loosely, and in amanner as if I was every moment going to release it, of myself; soshe let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key;and in the mean time I set myself to consider how I should undo theill impressions which the poor monk's story, in case he had told ither, must have planted in her breast against me. 

THE SNUFF BOX. CALAIS. 

The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of himcrossed my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of theline, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. --Hestopp'd, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world offrankness: and having a horn snuff box in his hand, he presentedit open to me. --You shall taste mine--said I, pulling out my box(which was a small tortoise one) and putting it into his hand. --'Tis most excellent, said the monk. Then do me the favour, Ireplied, to accept of the box and all, and when you take a pinchout of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace offering of a manwho once used you unkindly, but not from his heart. 

The poor monk blush'd as red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands together--you never used me unkindly. --I shouldthink, said the lady, he is not likely. I blush'd in my turn; butfrom what movements, I leave to the few who feel, to analyze. --Excuse me, Madame, replied I, --I treated him most unkindly; andfrom no provocations. --'Tis impossible, said the lady. --My God!cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seem'd not tobelong to him--the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of myzeal. --The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining itwas impossible, that a spirit so regulated as his, could giveoffence to any. 

I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet andpleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. --We remainedsilent, without any sensation of that foolish pain which takesplace, when, in such a circle, you look for ten minutes in oneanother's faces without saying a word. Whilst this lasted, themonk rubbed his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soonas it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction--hemade me a low bow, and said, 'twas too late to say whether it wasthe weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us inthis contest--but be it as it would, --he begg'd we might exchangeboxes. --In saying this, he presented his to me with one hand, as hetook mine from me in the other, and having kissed it, --with astream of good nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom, --andtook his leave. 

I guard this box, as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better: in truth, I seldom goabroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by itthe courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own, in thejustlings of the world: they had found full employment for his, asI learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of hisage, when upon some military services ill requited, and meeting atthe same time with a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary notso much in his convent as in himself. 

I feel a damp upon my spirits, as I am going to add, that in mylast return through Calais, upon enquiring after Father Lorenzo, Iheard he had been dead near three months, and was buried, not inhis convent, but, according to his desire, in a little cemeterybelonging to it, about two leagues off: I had a strong desire tosee where they had laid him, --when, upon pulling out his littlehorn box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two atthe head of it, which had no business to grow there, they allstruck together so forcibly upon my affections, that I burst into aflood of tears: --but I am as weak as a woman; and I beg the worldnot to smile, but to pity me. 

THE REMISE DOOR. CALAIS. 

I had never quitted the lady's hand all this time, and had held itso long, that it would have been indecent to have let it go, without first pressing it to my lips: the blood and spirits, whichhad suffered a revulsion from her, crowded back to her as I did it. 

Now the two travellers, who had spoke to me in the coach-yard, happening at that crisis to be passing by, and observing ourcommunications, naturally took it into their heads that we must beMAN AND WIFE at least; so, stopping as soon as they came up to thedoor of the Remise, the one of them who was the InquisitiveTraveller, ask'd us, if we set out for Paris the next morning?--Icould only answer for myself, I said; and the lady added, she wasfor Amiens. --We dined there yesterday, said the Simple Traveller. --You go directly through the town, added the other, in your road toParis. I was going to return a thousand thanks for theintelligence, THAT AMIENS WAS IN THE ROAD TO PARIS, but, uponpulling out my poor monk's little horn box to take a pinch ofsnuff, I made them a quiet bow, and wishing them a good passage toDover. --They left us alone. -

- Now where would be the harm, said I to myself, if I were to begof this distressed lady to accept of half of my chaise?--and whatmighty mischief could ensue?

Every dirty passion, and bad propensity in my nature took thealarm, as I stated the proposition. --It will oblige you to have athird horse, said Avarice, which will put twenty livres out of yourpocket;--You know not what she is, said Caution;--or what scrapesthe affair may draw you into, whisper'd Cowardice. -

Depend upon it, Yorick! said Discretion, 'twill be said you wentoff with a mistress, and came by assignation to Calais for thatpurpose; -

- You can never after, cried Hypocrisy aloud, show your face in theworld;--or rise, quoth Meanness, in the church;--or be any thing init, said Pride, but a lousy prebendary. 

But 'tis a civil thing, said I;--and as I generally act from thefirst impulse, and therefore seldom listen to these cabals, whichserve no purpose, that I know of, but to encompass the heart withadamant--I turned instantly about to the lady. -

- But she had glided off unperceived, as the cause was pleading, and had made ten or a dozen paces down the street, by the time Ihad made the determination; so I set off after her with a longstride, to make her the proposal, with the best address I wasmaster of: but observing she walk'd with her cheek half restingupon the palm of her hand, --with the slow short-measur'd step ofthoughtfulness, --and with her eyes, as she went step by step, fixedupon the ground, it struck me she was trying the same causeherself. --God help her! said I, she has some mother-in-law, ortartufish aunt, or nonsensical old woman, to consult upon theoccasion, as well as myself: so not caring to interrupt theprocess, and deeming it more gallant to take her at discretion thanby surprise, I faced about and took a short turn or two before thedoor of the Remise, whilst she walk'd musing on one side. 

IN THE STREET. CALAIS. 

Having, on the first sight of the lady, settled the affair in myfancy "that she was of the better order of beings;"--and then laidit down as a second axiom, as indisputable as the first, that shewas a widow, and wore a character of distress, --I went no further;I got ground enough for the situation which pleased me;--and hadshe remained close beside my elbow till midnight, I should haveheld true to my system, and considered her only under that generalidea. 

She had scarce got twenty paces distant from me, ere somethingwithin me called out for a more particular enquiry;--it brought onthe idea of a further separation: --I might possibly never see hermore: --The heart is for saving what it can; and I wanted thetraces through which my wishes might find their way to her, in caseI should never rejoin her myself; in a word, I wished to know hername, --her family's--her condition; and as I knew the place towhich she was going, I wanted to know from whence she came: butthere was no coming at all this intelligence; a hundred littledelicacies stood in the way. I form'd a score different plans. --There was no such thing as a man's asking her directly;--the thingwas impossible. 

A little French debonnaire captain, who came dancing down thestreet, showed me it was the easiest thing in the world: for, popping in betwixt us, just as the lady was returning back to thedoor of the Remise, he introduced himself to my acquaintance, andbefore he had well got announced, begg'd I would do him the honourto present him to the lady. --I had not been presented myself;--soturning about to her, he did it just as well, by asking her if shehad come from Paris? No: she was going that route, she said. --Vous n'etes pas de Londres?--She was not, she replied. --Then Madamemust have come through Flanders. --Apparemment vous etes Flammande?said the French captain. --The lady answered, she was. --Peut etre deLisle? added he. --She said, she was not of Lisle. --Nor Arras?--norCambray?--nor Ghent?--nor Brussels?--She answered, she was ofBrussels. 

He had had the honour, he said, to be at the bombardment of it lastwar;--that it was finely situated, pour cela, --and full of noblessewhen the Imperialists were driven out by the French (the lady madea slight courtesy)--so giving her an account of the affair, and ofthe share he had had in it, --he begg'd the honour to know hername, --so made his bow. 

- Et Madame a son Mari?--said he, looking back when he had made twosteps, --and, without staying for an answer--danced down the street. 

Had I served seven years apprenticeship to good breeding, I couldnot have done as much. 

THE REMISE. CALAIS. 

As the little French captain left us, Mons. Dessein came up withthe key of the Remise in his hand, and forthwith let us into hismagazine of chaises. 

The first object which caught my eye, as Mons. Dessein open'd thedoor of the Remise, was another old tatter'd desobligeant; andnotwithstanding it was the exact picture of that which had hit myfancy so much in the coach-yard but an hour before, --the very sightof it stirr'd up a disagreeable sensation within me now; and Ithought 'twas a churlish beast into whose heart the idea couldfirst enter, to construct such a machine; nor had I much morecharity for the man who could think of using it. 

I observed the lady was as little taken with it as myself: soMons. Dessein led us on to a couple of chaises which stood abreast, telling us, as he recommended them, that they had been purchased bymy lord A. And B. To go the grand tour, but had gone no furtherthan Paris, so were in all respects as good as new. --They were toogood;--so I pass'd on to a third, which stood behind, and forthwithbegun to chaffer for the price. --But 'twill scarce hold two, saidI, opening the door and getting in. --Have the goodness, Madame, said Mons. Dessein, offering his arm, to step in. --The ladyhesitated half a second, and stepped in; and the waiter that momentbeckoning to speak to Mon. Dessein, he shut the door of the chaiseupon us, and left us. 

THE REMISE. CALAIS. 

C'est bien comique, 'tis very droll, said the lady, smiling, fromthe reflection that this was the second time we a had been lefttogether by a parcel of nonsensical contingencies, --c'est biencomique, said she. -

- There wants nothing, said I, to make it so but the comic usewhich the gallantry of a Frenchman would put it to, --to make lovethe first moment, and an offer of his person the second. 

'Tis their fort, replied the lady. 

It is supposed so at least;--and how it has come to pass, continuedI, I know not; but they have certainly got the credit ofunderstanding more of love, and making it better than any othernation upon earth; but, for my own part, I think them arrantbunglers, and in truth the worst set of marksmen that ever triedCupid's patience. 

- To think of making love by SENTIMENTS!

I should as soon think of making a genteel suit of clothes out ofremnants: --and to do it--pop--at first sight, by declaration--issubmitting the offer, and themselves with it, to be sifted with alltheir pours and contres, by an unheated mind. 

The lady attended as if she expected I should go on. 

Consider then, Madame, continued I, laying my hand upon hers:-

That grave people hate love for the name's sake; -

That selfish people hate it for their own; -

Hypocrites for heaven's; -

And that all of us, both old and young, being ten times worsefrightened than hurt by the very report, --what a want of knowledgein this branch of commence a man betrays, whoever lets the wordcome out of his lips, till an hour or two, at least, after the timethat his silence upon it becomes tormenting. A course of small, quiet attentions, not so pointed as to alarm, --nor so vague as tobe misunderstood--with now and then a look of kindness, and littleor nothing said upon it, --leaves nature for your mistress, and shefashions it to her mind. -

Then I solemnly declare, said the lady, blushing, you have beenmaking love to me all this while. 

THE REMISE. CALAIS. 

Monsieur Dessein came back to let us out of the chaise, andacquaint the lady, the count de L-, her brother, was just arrivedat the hotel. Though I had infinite good will for the lady, Icannot say that I rejoiced in my heart at the event--and could nothelp telling her so;--for it is fatal to a proposal, Madame, saidI, that I was going to make to you -

- You need not tell me what the proposal was, said she, laying herhand upon both mine, as she interrupted me. --A man my good Sir, hasseldom an offer of kindness to make to a woman, but she has apresentiment of it some moments before. -

Nature arms her with it, said I, for immediate preservation. --But Ithink, said she, looking in my face, I had no evil to apprehend, --and, to deal frankly with you, had determined to accept it. --If Ihad--(she stopped a moment)--I believe your good will would havedrawn a story from me, which would have made pity the onlydangerous thing in the journey. 

In saying this, she suffered me to kiss her hand twice, and with alook of sensibility mixed with concern, she got out of the chaise, --and bid adieu. 

IN THE STREET. CALAIS. 

I never finished a twelve guinea bargain so expeditiously in mylife: my time seemed heavy, upon the loss of the lady, and knowingevery moment of it would be as two, till I put myself into motion, --I ordered post horses directly, and walked towards the hotel. 

Lord! said I, hearing the town clock strike four, and recollectingthat I had been little more than a single hour in Calais, -

- What a large volume of adventures may be grasped within thislittle span of life by him who interests his heart in every thing, and who, having eyes to see what time and chance are perpetuallyholding out to him as he journeyeth on his way, misses nothing hecan FAIRLY lay his hands on!

- If this won't turn out something, --another will;--no matter, --'tis an assay upon human nature--I get my labour for my pains, --'tis enough;--the pleasure of the experiment has kept my senses andthe best part of my blood awake, and laid the gross to sleep. 

I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tisall barren;--and so it is: and so is all the world to him who willnot cultivate the fruits it offers. I declare, said I, clapping myhands cheerily together, that were I in a desert, I would find outwherewith in it to call forth my affections: --if I could not dobetter, I would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek somemelancholy cypress to connect myself to;--I would court theirshade, and greet them kindly for their protection. --I would cut myname upon them, and swear they were the loveliest trees throughoutthe desert: if their leaves wither'd, I would teach myself tomourn; and, when they rejoiced, I would rejoice along with them. 

The learned Smelfungus travelled from Boulogne to Paris, --fromParis to Rome, --and so on;--but he set out with the spleen andjaundice, and every object he pass'd by was discoloured ordistorted. --He wrote an account of them, but 'twas nothing but theaccount of his miserable feelings. 

I met Smelfungus in the grand portico of the Pantheon: --he wasjust coming out of it. --'TIS NOTHING BUT A HUGE COCKPIT, said he: --I wish you had said nothing worse of the Venus of Medicis, repliedI;--for in passing through Florence, I had heard he had fallen foulupon the goddess, and used her worse than a common strumpet, without the least provocation in nature. 

I popp'd upon Smelfungus again at Turin, in his return home; and asad tale of sorrowful adventures had he to tell, "wherein he spokeof moving accidents by flood and field, and of the cannibals thateach other eat: the Anthropophagi:"--he had been flayed alive, andbedevil'd, and used worse than St. Bartholomew, at every stage hehad come at. -

- I'll tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the world. You had bettertell it, said I, to your physician. 

Mundungus, with an immense fortune, made the whole tour; going onfrom Rome to Naples, --from Naples to Venice, --from Venice toVienna, --to Dresden, to Berlin, without one generous connection orpleasurable anecdote to tell of; but he had travell'd straight on, looking neither to his right hand nor his left, lest Love or Pityshould seduce him out of his road. 

Peace be to them! if it is to be found; but heaven itself, were itpossible to get there with such tempers, would want objects to giveit; every gentle spirit would come flying upon the wings of Love tohail their arrival. --Nothing would the souls of Smelfungus andMundungus hear of, but fresh anthems of joy, fresh raptures oflove, and fresh congratulations of their common felicity. --Iheartily pity them; they have brought up no faculties for thiswork; and, were the happiest mansion in heaven to be allotted toSmelfungus and Mundungus, they would be so far from being happy, that the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus would do penance thereto all eternity!

MONTREUIL. 

I had once lost my portmanteau from behind my chaise, and twice gotout in the rain, and one of the times up to the knees in dirt, tohelp the postilion to tie it on, without being able to find outwhat was wanting. --Nor was it till I got to Montreuil, upon thelandlord's asking me if I wanted not a servant, that it occurred tome, that that was the very thing. 

A servant! That I do most sadly, quoth I. --Because, Monsieur, saidthe landlord, there is a clever young fellow, who would be veryproud of the honour to serve an Englishman. --But why an Englishone, more than any other?--They are so generous, said thelandlord. --I'll be shot if this is not a livre out of my pocket, quoth I to myself, this very night. --But they have wherewithal tobe so, Monsieur, added he. --Set down one livre more for that, quothI. --It was but last night, said the landlord, qu'un milord Angloispresentoit un ecu a la fille de chambre. --Tant pis pourMademoiselle Janatone, said I. 

Now Janatone, being the landlord's daughter, and the landlordsupposing I was young in French, took the liberty to inform me, Ishould not have said tant pis--but, tant mieux. Tant mieux, toujours, Monsieur, said he, when there is any thing to be got--tant pis, when there is nothing. It comes to the same thing, saidI. Pardonnez-moi, said the landlord. 

I cannot take a fitter opportunity to observe, once for all, thattant pis and tant mieux, being two of the great hinges in Frenchconversation, a stranger would do well to set himself right in theuse of them, before he gets to Paris. 

A prompt French marquis at our ambassador's table demanded of Mr. H-, if he was H- the poet? No, said Mr. H-, mildly. --Tant pis, replied the marquis. 

It is H- the historian, said another, --Tant mieux, said themarquis. And Mr. H-, who is a man of an excellent heart, return'dthanks for both. 

When the landlord had set me right in this matter, he called in LaFleur, which was the name of the young man he had spoke of, --sayingonly first, That as for his talents he would presume to saynothing, --Monsieur was the best judge what would suit him; but forthe fidelity of La Fleur he would stand responsible in all he wasworth. 

The landlord deliver'd this in a manner which instantly set my mindto the business I was upon;--and La Fleur, who stood waitingwithout, in that breathless expectation which every son of natureof us have felt in our turns, came in. 

MONTREUIL. 

I am apt to be taken with all kinds of people at first sight; butnever more so than when a poor devil comes to offer his service toso poor a devil as myself; and as I know this weakness, I alwayssuffer my judgment to draw back something on that very account, --and this more or less, according to the mood I am in, and thecase;--and I may add, the gender too, of the person I am to govern. 

When La Fleur entered the room, after every discount I could makefor my soul, the genuine look and air of the fellow determined thematter at once in his favour; so I hired him first, --and then beganto enquire what he could do: But I shall find out his talents, quoth I, as I want them, --besides, a Frenchman can do every thing. 

Now poor La Fleur could do nothing in the world but beat a drum, and play a march or two upon the fife. I was determined to makehis talents do; and can't say my weakness was ever so insulted bymy wisdom as in the attempt. 

La Fleur had set out early in life, as gallantly as most Frenchmendo, with SERVING for a few years; at the end of which, havingsatisfied the sentiment, and found, moreover, That the honour ofbeating a drum was likely to be its own reward, as it open'd nofurther track of glory to him, --he retired a ses terres, and livedcomme il plaisoit a Dieu;--that is to say, upon nothing. 

- And so, quoth Wisdom, you have hired a drummer to attend you inthis tour of yours through France and Italy!--Psha! said I, and donot one half of our gentry go with a humdrum compagnon du voyagethe same round, and have the piper and the devil and all to paybesides? When man can extricate himself with an equivoque in suchan unequal match, --he is not ill off. --But you can do somethingelse, La Fleur? said I. --O qu'oui! he could make spatterdashes, andplay a little upon the fiddle. --Bravo! said Wisdom. --Why, I play abass myself, said I;--we shall do very well. You can shave, anddress a wig a little, La Fleur?--He had all the dispositions in theworld. --It is enough for heaven! said I, interrupting him, --andought to be enough for me. --So, supper coming in, and having afrisky English spaniel on one side of my chair, and a French valet, with as much hilarity in his countenance as ever Nature painted inone, on the other, --I was satisfied to my heart's content with myempire; and if monarchs knew what they would be at, they might beas satisfied as I was. 

MONTREUIL. 

As La Fleur went the whole tour of France and Italy with me, andwill be often upon the stage, I must interest the reader a littlefurther in his behalf, by saying, that I had never less reason torepent of the impulses which generally do determine me, than inregard to this fellow;--he was a faithful, affectionate, simplesoul as ever trudged after the heels of a philosopher; and, notwithstanding his talents of drum beating and spatterdash-making, which, though very good in themselves, happened to be of no greatservice to me, yet was I hourly recompensed by the festivity of histemper;--it supplied all defects: --I had a constant resource inhis looks in all difficulties and distresses of my own--I was goingto have added of his too; but La Fleur was out of the reach ofevery thing; for, whether 'twas hunger or thirst, or cold ornakedness, or watchings, or whatever stripes of ill luck La Fleurmet with in our journeyings, there was no index in his physiognomyto point them out by, --he was eternally the same; so that if I am apiece of a philosopher, which Satan now and then puts it into myhead I am, --it always mortifies the pride of the conceit, byreflecting how much I owe to the complexional philosophy of thispoor fellow, for shaming me into one of a better kind. With allthis, La Fleur had a small cast of the coxcomb, --but he seemed atfirst sight to be more a coxcomb of nature than of art; and, beforeI had been three days in Paris with him, --he seemed to be nocoxcomb at all. 

MONTREUIL. 

The next morning, La Fleur entering upon his employment, Idelivered to him the key of my portmanteau, with an inventory of myhalf a dozen shirts and silk pair of breeches, and bid him fastenall upon the chaise, --get the horses put to, --and desire thelandlord to come in with his bill. 

C'est un garcon de bonne fortune, said the landlord, pointingthrough the window to half a dozen wenches who had got round aboutLa Fleur, and were most kindly taking their leave of him, as thepostilion was leading out the horses. La Fleur kissed all theirhands round and round again, and thrice he wiped his eyes, andthrice he promised he would bring them all pardons from Rome. 

- The young fellow, said the landlord, is beloved by all the town, and there is scarce a corner in Montreuil where the want of himwill not be felt: he has but one misfortune in the world, continued he, "he is always in love. "--I am heartily glad of it, said I, --'twill save me the trouble every night of putting mybreeches under my head. In saying this, I was making not so muchLa Fleur's eloge as my own, having been in love with one princessor another almost all my life, and I hope I shall go on so till Idie, being firmly persuaded, that if ever I do a mean action, itmust be in some interval betwixt one passion and another: whilstthis interregnum lasts, I always perceive my heart locked up, --Ican scarce find in it to give Misery a sixpence; and therefore Ialways get out of it as fast as I can--and the moment I amrekindled, I am all generosity and good-will again; and would doanything in the world, either for or with any one, if they will butsatisfy me there is no sin in it. 

- But in saying this, --sure I am commanding the passion, --notmyself. 

A FRAGMENT. 

- The town of Abdera, notwithstanding Democritus lived there, trying all the powers of irony and laughter to reclaim it, was thevilest and most profligate town in all Thrace. What for poisons, conspiracies, and assassinations, --libels, pasquinades, andtumults, there was no going there by day--'twas worse by night. 

Now, when things were at the worst, it came to pass that theAndromeda of Euripides being represented at Abdera, the wholeorchestra was delighted with it: but of all the passages whichdelighted them, nothing operated more upon their imaginations thanthe tender strokes of nature which the poet had wrought up in thatpathetic speech of Perseus, O Cupid, prince of gods and men! &c. Every man almost spoke pure iambics the next day, and talked ofnothing but Perseus his pathetic address, --"O Cupid! prince of godsand men!"--in every street of Abdera, in every house, "O Cupid!Cupid!"--in every mouth, like the natural notes of some sweetmelody which drop from it, whether it will or no, --nothing but"Cupid! Cupid! prince of gods and men!"--The fire caught--and thewhole city, like the heart of one man, open'd itself to Love. 

No pharmacopolist could sell one grain of hellebore, --not a singlearmourer had a heart to forge one instrument of death;--Friendshipand Virtue met together, and kiss'd each other in the street; thegolden age returned, and hung over the town of Abdera--everyAbderite took his eaten pipe, and every Abderitish woman left herpurple web, and chastely sat her down and listened to the song. 

'Twas only in the power, says the Fragment, of the God whose empireextendeth from heaven to earth, and even to the depths of the sea, to have done this. 

MONTREUIL. 

When all is ready, and every article is disputed and paid for inthe inn, unless you are a little sour'd by the adventure, there isalways a matter to compound at the door, before you can get intoyour chaise; and that is with the sons and daughters of poverty, who surround you. Let no man say, "Let them go to the devil!"--'tis a cruel journey to send a few miserables, and they have hadsufferings enow without it: I always think it better to take a fewsous out in my hand; and I would counsel every gentle traveller todo so likewise: he need not be so exact in setting down hismotives for giving them;--They will be registered elsewhere. 

For my own part, there is no man gives so little as I do; for few, that I know, have so little to give; but as this was the firstpublic act of my charity in France, I took the more notice of it. 

A well-a-way! said I, --I have but eight sous in the world, showingthem in my hand, and there are eight poor men and eight poor womenfor 'em. 

A poor tatter'd soul, without a shirt on, instantly withdrew hisclaim, by retiring two steps out of the circle, and making adisqualifying bow on his part. Had the whole parterre cried out, Place aux dames, with one voice, it would not have conveyed thesentiment of a deference for the sex with half the effect. 

Just Heaven! for what wise reasons hast thou ordered it, thatbeggary and urbanity, which are at such variance in othercountries, should find a way to be at unity in this?

- I insisted upon presenting him with a single sous, merely for hispolitesse. 

A poor little dwarfish brisk fellow, who stood over against me inthe circle, putting something first under his arm, which had oncebeen a hat, took his snuff-box out of his pocket, and generouslyoffer'd a pinch on both sides of him: it was a gift ofconsequence, and modestly declined. --The poor little fellowpressed it upon them with a nod of welcomeness. --Prenez en--prenez, said he, looking another way; so they each took a pinch. --Pity thybox should ever want one! said I to myself; so I put a couple ofsous into it--taking a small pinch out of his box, to enhance theirvalue, as I did it. He felt the weight of the second obligationmore than of the first, --'twas doing him an honour, --the other wasonly doing him a charity;--and he made me a bow down to the groundfor it. 

- Here! said I to an old soldier with one hand, who had beencampaigned and worn out to death in the service--here's a couple ofsous for thee. --Vive le Roi! said the old soldier. 

I had then but three sous left: so I gave one, simply, pourl'amour de Dieu, which was the footing on which it was begg'd. --Thepoor woman had a dislocated hip; so it could not be well upon anyother motive. 

Mon cher et tres-charitable Monsieur. --There's no opposing this, said I. 

Milord Anglois--the very sound was worth the money;--so I gave MYLAST SOUS FOR IT. But in the eagerness of giving, I had overlookeda pauvre honteux, who had had no one to ask a sous for him, andwho, I believe, would have perished, ere he could have ask'd onefor himself: he stood by the chaise a little without the circle, and wiped a tear from a face which I thought had seen better days. --Good God! said I--and I have not one single sous left to givehim. --But you have a thousand! cried all the powers of nature, stirring within me;--so I gave him--no matter what--I am ashamed tosay HOW MUCH now, --and was ashamed to think how little, then: so, if the reader can form any conjecture of my disposition, as thesetwo fixed points are given him, he may judge within a livre or twowhat was the precise sum. 

I could afford nothing for the rest, but Dieu vous benisse!

- Et le bon Dieu vous benisse encore, said the old soldier, thedwarf, &c. The pauvre honteux could say nothing;--he pull'd out alittle handkerchief, and wiped his face as he turned away--and Ithought he thanked me more than them all. 

THE BIDET. 

Having settled all these little matters, I got into my post-chaisewith more ease than ever I got into a post-chaise in my life; andLa Fleur having got one large jack-boot on the far side of a littlebidet, and another on this (for I count nothing of his legs)--hecanter'd away before me as happy and as perpendicular as a prince. --But what is happiness! what is grandeur in this painted scene oflife! A dead ass, before we had got a league, put a sudden stop toLa Fleur's career;--his bidet would not pass by it, --a contentionarose betwixt them, and the poor fellow was kick'd out of his jack-boots the very first kick. 

La Fleur bore his fall like a French Christian, saying neither morenor less upon it, than Diable! So presently got up, and came tothe charge again astride his bidet, beating him up to it as hewould have beat his drum. 

The bidet flew from one side of the road to the other, then backagain, --then this way, then that way, and in short, every way butby the dead ass: --La Fleur insisted upon the thing--and the bidetthrew him. 

What's the matter, La Fleur, said I, with this bidet of thine?Monsieur, said he, c'est un cheval le plus opiniatre du monde. --Nay, if he is a conceited beast, he must go his own way, replied I. So La Fleur got off him, and giving him a good sound lash, thebidet took me at my word, and away he scampered back to Montreuil. --Peste! said La Fleur. 

It is not mal-a-propos to take notice here, that though La Fleuravailed himself but of two different terms of exclamation in thisencounter, --namely, Diable! and Peste! that there are, nevertheless, three in the French language: like the positive, comparative, and superlative, one or the other of which serves forevery unexpected throw of the dice in life. 

Le Diable! which is the first, and positive degree, is generallyused upon ordinary emotions of the mind, where small things onlyfall out contrary to your expectations; such as--the throwing oncedoublets--La Fleur's being kick'd off his horse, and so forth. --Cuckoldom, for the same reason, is always--Le Diable!

But, in cases where the cast has something provoking in it, as inthat of the bidet's running away after, and leaving La Fleuraground in jack-boots, --'tis the second degree. 

'Tis then Peste!

And for the third -

- But here my heart is wrung with pity and fellow feeling, when Ireflect what miseries must have been their lot, and how bitterly sorefined a people must have smarted, to have forced them upon theuse of it. -

Grant me, O ye powers which touch the tongue with eloquence indistress!--what ever is my CAST, grant me but decent words toexclaim in, and I will give my nature way. 

- But as these were not to be had in France, I resolved to takeevery evil just as it befell me, without any exclamation at all. 

La Fleur, who had made no such covenant with himself, followed thebidet with his eyes till it was got out of sight, --and then, youmay imagine, if you please, with what word he closed the wholeaffair. 

As there was no hunting down a frightened horse in jack-boots, there remained no alternative but taking La Fleur either behind thechaise, or into it. -

I preferred the latter, and in half an hour we got to the post-house at Nampont. 

NAMPONT. THE DEAD ASS. 

- And this, said he, putting the remains of a crust into hiswallet--and this should have been thy portion, said he, hadst thoubeen alive to have shared it with me. --I thought, by the accent, ithad been an apostrophe to his child; but 'twas to his ass, and tothe very ass we had seen dead in the road, which had occasioned LaFleur's misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and itinstantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but hedid it with more true touches of nature. 

The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, with theass's pannel and its bridle on one side, which he took up from timeto time, --then laid them down, --look'd at them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if toeat it; held it some time in his hand, --then laid it upon the bitof his ass's bridle, --looked wistfully at the little arrangement hehad made--and then gave a sigh. 

The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleuramongst the rest, whilst the horses were getting ready; as Icontinued sitting in the post-chaise, I could see and hear overtheir heads. 

- He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from thefurthest borders of Franconia; and had got so far on his returnhome, when his ass died. Every one seemed desirous to know whatbusiness could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journeyfrom his own home. 

It had pleased heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, thefinest lads in Germany; but having in one week lost two of theeldest of them by the small-pox, and the youngest falling ill ofthe same distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all; andmade a vow, if heaven would not take him from him also, he would goin gratitude to St. Iago in Spain. 

When the mourner got thus far on his story, he stopp'd to payNature her tribute, --and wept bitterly. 

He said, heaven had accepted the conditions; and that he had setout from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been apatient partner of his journey;--that it had eaten the same breadwith him all the way, and was unto him as a friend. 

Every body who stood about, heard the poor fellow with concern. --LaFleur offered him money. --The mourner said he did not want it;--itwas not the value of the ass--but the loss of him. --The ass, hesaid, he was assured, loved him;--and upon this told them a longstory of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyreneanmountains, which had separated them from each other three days;during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had soughtthe ass, and that they had scarce either eaten or drank till theymet. 

Thou hast one comfort, friend, said I, at least, in the loss of thypoor beast; I'm sure thou hast been a merciful master to him. --Alas! said the mourner, I thought so when he was alive;--but nowthat he is dead, I think otherwise. --I fear the weight of myselfand my afflictions together have been too much for him, --they haveshortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them toanswer for. --Shame on the world! said I to myself. --Did we but loveeach other as this poor soul loved his ass--'twould be something. -

NAMPONT. THE POSTILION. 

The concern which the poor fellow's story threw me into requiredsome attention; the postilion paid not the least to it, but set offupon the pave in a full gallop. 

The thirstiest soul in the most sandy desert of Arabia could nothave wished more for a cup of cold water, than mine did for graveand quiet movements; and I should have had an high opinion of thepostilion had he but stolen off with me in something like a pensivepace. --On the contrary, as the mourner finished his lamentation, the fellow gave an unfeeling lash to each of his beasts, and setoff clattering like a thousand devils. 

I called to him as loud as I could, for heaven's sake to go slower:--and the louder I called, the more unmercifully he galloped. --Thedeuce take him and his galloping too--said I, --he'll go on tearingmy nerves to pieces till he has worked me into a foolish passion, and then he'll go slow that I may enjoy the sweets of it. 

The postilion managed the point to a miracle: by the time he hadgot to the foot of a steep hill, about half a league from Nampont, --he had put me out of temper with him, --and then with myself, forbeing so. 

My case then required a different treatment; and a good rattlinggallop would have been of real service to me. -

- Then, prithee, get on--get on, my good lad, said I. 

The postilion pointed to the hill. --I then tried to return back tothe story of the poor German and his ass--but I had broke theclue, --and could no more get into it again, than the postilioncould into a trot. 

- The deuce go, said I, with it all! Here am I sitting as candidlydisposed to make the best of the worst, as ever wight was, and allruns counter. 

There is one sweet lenitive at least for evils, which Nature holdsout to us: so I took it kindly at her hands, and fell asleep; andthe first word which roused me was Amiens. 

- Bless me! said I, rubbing my eyes, --this is the very town wheremy poor lady is to come. 

AMIENS. 

The words were scarce out of my mouth when the Count de L-'s post-chaise, with his sister in it, drove hastily by: she had just timeto make me a bow of recognition, --and of that particular kind ofit, which told me she had not yet done with me. She was as good asher look; for, before I had quite finished my supper, her brother'sservant came into the room with a billet, in which she said she hadtaken the liberty to charge me with a letter, which I was topresent myself to Madame R- the first morning I had nothing to doat Paris. There was only added, she was sorry, but from whatpenchant she had not considered, that she had been preventedtelling me her story, --that she still owed it to me; and if myroute should ever lay through Brussels, and I had not by thenforgot the name of Madame de L-, --that Madame de L- would be gladto discharge her obligation. 

Then I will meet thee, said I, fair spirit! at Brussels;--'tis onlyreturning from Italy through Germany to Holland, by the route ofFlanders, home;--'twill scarce be ten posts out of my way; but, were it ten thousand! with what a moral delight will it crown myjourney, in sharing in the sickening incidents of a tale of miserytold to me by such a sufferer? To see her weep! and, though Icannot dry up the fountain of her tears, what an exquisitesensation is there still left, in wiping them away from off thecheeks of the first and fairest of women, as I'm sitting with myhandkerchief in my hand in silence the whole night beside her?

There was nothing wrong in the sentiment; and yet I instantlyreproached my heart with it in the bitterest and most reprobate ofexpressions. 

It had ever, as I told the reader, been one of the singularblessings of my life, to be almost every hour of it miserably inlove with some one; and my last flame happening to be blown out bya whiff of jealousy on the sudden turn of a corner, I had lightedit up afresh at the pure taper of Eliza but about three monthsbefore, --swearing, as I did it, that it should last me through thewhole journey. --Why should I dissemble the matter? I had sworn toher eternal fidelity;--she had a right to my whole heart: --todivide my affections was to lessen them;--to expose them was torisk them: where there is risk there may be loss: --and what wiltthou have, Yorick, to answer to a heart so full of trust andconfidence--so good, so gentle, and unreproaching!

- I will not go to Brussels, replied I, interrupting myself. --Butmy imagination went on, --I recalled her looks at that crisis of ourseparation, when neither of us had power to say adieu! I look'd atthe picture she had tied in a black riband about my neck, --andblush'd as I look'd at it. --I would have given the world to havekiss'd it, --but was ashamed. --And shall this tender flower, said I, pressing it between my hands, --shall it be smitten to its veryroot, --and smitten, Yorick! by thee, who hast promised to shelterit in thy breast?

Eternal Fountain of Happiness! said I, kneeling down upon theground, --be thou my witness--and every pure spirit which tastes it, be my witness also, That I would not travel to Brussels, unlessEliza went along with me, did the road lead me towards heaven!

In transports of this kind, the heart, in spite of theunderstanding, will always say too much. 

THE LETTER. AMIENS. 

Fortune had not smiled upon La Fleur; for he had been unsuccessfulin his feats of chivalry, --and not one thing had offered tosignalise his zeal for my service from the time that he had enteredinto it, which was almost four-and-twenty hours. The poor soulburn'd with impatience; and the Count de L-'s servant coming withthe letter, being the first practicable occasion which offer'd, LaFleur had laid hold of it; and, in order to do honour to hismaster, had taken him into a back parlour in the auberge, andtreated him with a cup or two of the best wine in Picardy; and theCount de L-'s servant, in return, and not to be behindhand inpoliteness with La Fleur, had taken him back with him to theCount's hotel. La Fleur's PREVENANCY (for there was a passport inhis very looks) soon set every servant in the kitchen at ease withhim; and as a Frenchman, whatever be his talents, has no sort ofprudery in showing them, La Fleur, in less than five minutes, hadpulled out his fife, and leading off the dance himself with thefirst note, set the fille de chambre, the maitre d'hotel, the cook, the scullion, and all the house-hold, dogs and cats, besides an oldmonkey, a dancing: I suppose there never was a merrier kitchensince the flood. 

Madame de L-, in passing from her brother's apartments to her own, hearing so much jollity below stairs, rung up her fille de chambreto ask about it; and, hearing it was the English gentleman'sservant, who had set the whole house merry with his pipe, sheordered him up. 

As the poor fellow could not present himself empty, he had loadedhimself in going up stairs with a thousand compliments to Madame deL-, on the part of his master, --added a long apocrypha of inquiriesafter Madame de L-'s health, --told her, that Monsieur his masterwas au desespoire for her re-establishment from the fatigues of herjourney, --and, to close all, that Monsieur had received the letterwhich Madame had done him the honour--And he has done me thehonour, said Madame de L-, interrupting La Fleur, to send a billetin return. 

Madame de L- had said this with such a tone of reliance upon thefact, that La Fleur had not power to disappoint her expectations;--he trembled for my honour, --and possibly might not altogether beunconcerned for his own, as a man capable of being attached to amaster who could be wanting en egards vis a vis d'une femme! sothat when Madame de L- asked La Fleur if he had brought a letter, --O qu'oui, said La Fleur: so laying down his hat upon the ground, and taking hold of the flap of his right side pocket with his lefthand, he began to search for the letter with his right;--thencontrariwise. --Diable! then sought every pocket--pocket by pocket, round, not forgetting his fob: --Peste!--then La Fleur emptied themupon the floor, --pulled out a dirty cravat, --a handkerchief, --acomb, --a whip lash, --a nightcap, --then gave a peep into his hat, --Quelle etourderie! He had left the letter upon the table in theauberge;--he would run for it, and be back with it in threeminutes. 

I had just finished my supper when La Fleur came in to give me anaccount of his adventure: he told the whole story simply as itwas: and only added that if Monsieur had forgot (par hazard) toanswer Madame's letter, the arrangement gave him an opportunity torecover the faux pas;--and if not, that things were only as theywere. 

Now I was not altogether sure of my etiquette, whether I ought tohave wrote or no;--but if I had, --a devil himself could not havebeen angry: 'twas but the officious zeal of a well meaningcreature for my honour; and, however he might have mistook theroad, --or embarrassed me in so doing, --his heart was in no fault, --I was under no necessity to write;--and, what weighed more thanall, --he did not look as if he had done amiss. 

- 'Tis all very well, La Fleur, said I. --'Twas sufficient. LaFleur flew out of the room like lightning, and returned with pen, ink, and paper, in his hand; and, coming up to the table, laid themclose before me, with such a delight in his countenance, that Icould not help taking up the pen. 

I began and began again; and, though I had nothing to say, and thatnothing might have been expressed in half a dozen lines, I madehalf a dozen different beginnings, and could no way please myself. 

In short, I was in no mood to write. 

La Fleur stepp'd out and brought a little water in a glass todilute my ink, --then fetch'd sand and seal-wax. --It was all one; Iwrote, and blotted, and tore off, and burnt, and wrote again. --Lediable l'emporte! said I, half to myself, --I cannot write thisself-same letter, throwing the pen down despairingly as I said it. 

As soon as I had cast down my pen, La Fleur advanced with the mostrespectful carriage up to the table, and making a thousandapologies for the liberty he was going to take, told me he had aletter in his pocket wrote by a drummer in his regiment to acorporal's wife, which he durst say would suit the occasion. 

I had a mind to let the poor fellow have his humour. --Then prithee, said I, let me see it. 

La Fleur instantly pulled out a little dirty pocket book cramm'dfull of small letters and billet-doux in a sad condition, andlaying it upon the table, and then untying the string which heldthem all together, run them over, one by one, till he came to theletter in question, --La voila! said he, clapping his hands: so, unfolding it first, he laid it open before me, and retired threesteps from the table whilst I read it. 

THE LETTER. 

Madame, Je suis penetre de la douleur la plus vive, et reduit en meme tempsau desespoir par ce retour imprevu du Caporal qui rend notreentrevue de ce soir la chose du monde la plus impossible. 

Mais vive la joie! et toute la mienne sera de penser a vous. 

L'amour n'est rien sans sentiment. 

Et le sentiment est encore moins sans amour. 

On dit qu'on ne doit jamais se desesperer. 

On dit aussi que Monsieur le Caporal monte la garde Mercredi:alors ce cera mon tour. 

Chacun a son tour. 

En attendant--Vive l'amour! et vive la bagatelle!

Je suis, Madame, Avec tous les sentimens les plus respectueux et les plus tendres, tout a vous, JAQUES ROQUE. 

It was but changing the Corporal into the Count, --and sayingnothing about mounting guard on Wednesday, --and the letter wasneither right nor wrong: --so, to gratify the poor fellow, whostood trembling for my honour, his own, and the honour of hisletter, --I took the cream gently off it, and whipping it up in myown way, I seal'd it up and sent him with it to Madame de L-;--andthe next morning we pursued our journey to Paris. 

PARIS. 

When a man can contest the point by dint of equipage, and carry allon floundering before him with half a dozen of lackies and a coupleof cooks--'tis very well in such a place as Paris, --he may drive inat which end of a street he will. 

A poor prince who is weak in cavalry, and whose whole infantry doesnot exceed a single man, had best quit the field, and signalizehimself in the cabinet, if he can get up into it;--I say UP INTOIT--for there is no descending perpendicular amongst 'em with a "Mevoici! mes enfans"--here I am--whatever many may think. 

I own my first sensations, as soon as I was left solitary and alonein my own chamber in the hotel, were far from being so flatteringas I had prefigured them. I walked up gravely to the window in mydusty black coat, and looking through the glass saw all the worldin yellow, blue, and green, running at the ring of pleasure. --Theold with broken lances, and in helmets which had lost theirvizards;--the young in armour bright which shone like gold, beplumed with each gay feather of the east, --all, --all, tilting atit like fascinated knights in tournaments of yore for fame andlove. -

Alas, poor Yorick! cried I, what art thou doing here? On the veryfirst onset of all this glittering clatter thou art reduced to anatom;--seek, --seek some winding alley, with a tourniquet at the endof it, where chariot never rolled or flambeau shot its rays;--therethou mayest solace thy soul in converse sweet with some kindgrisette of a barber's wife, and get into such coteries! -

- May I perish! if I do, said I, pulling out the letter which I hadto present to Madame de R- --I'll wait upon this lady, the veryfirst thing I do. So I called La Fleur to go seek me a barberdirectly, --and come back and brush my coat. 

THE WIG. PARIS. 

When the barber came, he absolutely refused to have any thing to dowith my wig: 'twas either above or below his art: I had nothingto do but to take one ready made of his own recommendation. 

- But I fear, friend! said I, this buckle won't stand. --You mayemerge it, replied he, into the ocean, and it will stand. -

What a great scale is every thing upon in this city thought I. --Theutmost stretch of an English periwig-maker's ideas could have goneno further than to have "dipped it into a pail of water. "--Whatdifference! 'tis like Time to Eternity!

I confess I do hate all cold conceptions, as I do the puny ideaswhich engender them; and am generally so struck with the greatworks of nature, that for my own part, if I could help it, I neverwould make a comparison less than a mountain at least. All thatcan be said against the French sublime, in this instance of it, isthis: --That the grandeur is MORE in the WORD, and LESS in theTHING. No doubt, the ocean fills the mind with vast ideas; butParis being so far inland, it was not likely I should run post ahundred miles out of it, to try the experiment;--the Parisianbarber meant nothing. -

The pail of water standing beside the great deep, makes, certainly, but a sorry figure in speech;--but, 'twill be said, --it has oneadvantage--'tis in the next room, and the truth of the buckle maybe tried in it, without more ado, in a single moment. 

In honest truth, and upon a more candid revision of the matter, THEFRENCH EXPRESSION PROFESSES MORE THAN IT PERFORMS. 

I think I can see the precise and distinguishing marks of nationalcharacters more in these nonsensical minutiae than in the mostimportant matters of state; where great men of all nations talk andstalk so much alike, that I would not give ninepence to chooseamongst them. 

I was so long in getting from under my barber's hands, that it wastoo late to think of going with my letter to Madame R- that night:but when a man is once dressed at all points for going out, hisreflections turn to little account; so taking down the name of theHotel de Modene, where I lodged, I walked forth without anydetermination where to go;--I shall consider of that, said I, as Iwalk along. 

THE PULSE. PARIS. 

Hail, ye small sweet courtesies of life, for smooth do ye make theroad of it! like grace and beauty, which beget inclinations to loveat first sight: 'tis ye who open this door and let the strangerin. 

- Pray, Madame, said I, have the goodness to tell me which way Imust turn to go to the Opera Comique?--Most willingly, Monsieur, said she, laying aside her work. -

I had given a cast with my eye into half a dozen shops, as I camealong, in search of a face not likely to be disordered by such aninterruption: till at last, this, hitting my fancy, I had walkedin. 

She was working a pair of ruffles, as she sat in a low chair, onthe far side of the shop, facing the door. 

- Tres volontiers, most willingly, said she, laying her work downupon a chair next her, and rising up from the low chair she wassitting in, with so cheerful a movement, and so cheerful a look, that had I been laying out fifty louis d'ors with her, I shouldhave said--"This woman is grateful. "

You must turn, Monsieur, said she, going with me to the door of theshop, and pointing the way down the street I was to take, --you mustturn first to your left hand, --mais prenez garde--there are twoturns; and be so good as to take the second--then go down a littleway and you'll see a church: and, when you are past it, giveyourself the trouble to turn directly to the right, and that willlead you to the foot of the Pont Neuf, which you must cross--andthere any one will do himself the pleasure to show you. -

She repeated her instructions three times over to me, with the samegoodnatur'd patience the third time as the first;--and if TONES ANDMANNERS have a meaning, which certainly they have, unless to heartswhich shut them out, --she seemed really interested that I shouldnot lose myself. 

I will not suppose it was the woman's beauty, notwithstanding shewas the handsomest grisette, I think, I ever saw, which had much todo with the sense I had of her courtesy; only I remember, when Itold her how much I was obliged to her, that I looked very full inher eyes, --and that I repeated my thanks as often as she had doneher instructions. 

I had not got ten paces from the door, before I found I had forgotevery tittle of what she had said;--so looking back, and seeing herstill standing in the door of the shop, as if to look whether Iwent right or not, --I returned back to ask her, whether the firstturn was to my right or left, --for that I had absolutely forgot. --Is it possible! said she, half laughing. 'Tis very possible, replied I, when a man is thinking more of a woman than of her goodadvice. 

As this was the real truth--she took it, as every woman takes amatter of right, with a slight curtsey. 

- Attendez! said she, laying her hand upon my arm to detain me, whilst she called a lad out of the back shop to get ready a parcelof gloves. I am just going to send him, said she, with a packetinto that quarter, and if you will have the complaisance to stepin, it will be ready in a moment, and he shall attend you to theplace. --So I walk'd in with her to the far side of the shop: andtaking up the ruffle in my hand which she laid upon the chair, asif I had a mind to sit, she sat down herself in her low chair, andI instantly sat myself down beside her. 

- He will be ready, Monsieur, said she, in a moment. --And in thatmoment, replied I, most willingly would I say something very civilto you for all these courtesies. Any one may do a casual act ofgood nature, but a continuation of them shows it is a part of thetemperature; and certainly, added I, if it is the same blood whichcomes from the heart which descends to the extremes (touching herwrist) I am sure you must have one of the best pulses of any womanin the world. --Feel it, said she, holding out her arm. So layingdown my hat, I took hold of her fingers in one hand, and appliedthe two forefingers of my other to the artery. -

- Would to heaven! my dear Eugenius, thou hadst passed by, andbeheld me sitting in my black coat, and in my lack-a-day-sicalmanner, counting the throbs of it, one by one, with as much truedevotion as if I had been watching the critical ebb or flow of herfever. --How wouldst thou have laugh'd and moralized upon my newprofession!--and thou shouldst have laugh'd and moralized on. --Trust me, my dear Eugenius, I should have said, "There are worseoccupations in this world THAN FEELING A WOMAN'S PULSE. "--But agrisette's! thou wouldst have said, --and in an open shop! Yorick -

- So much the better: for when my views are direct, Eugenius, Icare not if all the world saw me feel it. 

THE HUSBAND. PARIS. 

I had counted twenty pulsations, and was going on fast towards thefortieth, when her husband, coming unexpected from a back parlourinto the shop, put me a little out of my reckoning. --'Twas nobodybut her husband, she said;--so I began a fresh score. --Monsieur isso good, quoth she, as he pass'd by us, as to give himself thetrouble of feeling my pulse. --The husband took off his hat, andmaking me a bow, said, I did him too much honour--and having saidthat, he put on his hat and walk'd out. 

Good God! said I to myself, as he went out, --and can this man bethe husband of this woman!

Let it not torment the few who know what must have been the groundsof this exclamation, if I explain it to those who do not. 

In London a shopkeeper and a shopkeeper's wife seem to be one boneand one flesh: in the several endowments of mind and body, sometimes the one, sometimes the other has it, so as, in general, to be upon a par, and totally with each other as nearly as man andwife need to do. 

In Paris, there are scarce two orders of beings more different:for the legislative and executive powers of the shop not resting inthe husband, he seldom comes there: --in some dark and dismal roombehind, he sits commerce-less, in his thrum nightcap, the samerough son of Nature that Nature left him. 

The genius of a people, where nothing but the monarchy is salique, having ceded this department, with sundry others, totally to thewomen, --by a continual higgling with customers of all ranks andsizes from morning to night, like so many rough pebbles shook longtogether in a bag, by amicable collisions they have worn down theirasperities and sharp angles, and not only become round and smooth, but will receive, some of them, a polish like a brilliant: --Monsieur le Mari is little better than the stone under your foot. 

- Surely, --surely, man! it is not good for thee to sit alone: --thou wast made for social intercourse and gentle greetings; andthis improvement of our natures from it I appeal to as my evidence. 

- And how does it beat, Monsieur? said she. --With all thebenignity, said I, looking quietly in her eyes, that I expected. --She was going to say something civil in return--but the lad cameinto the shop with the gloves. --A propos, said I, I want a coupleof pairs myself. 

THE GLOVES. PARIS. 

The beautiful grisette rose up when I said this, and going behindthe counter, reach'd down a parcel and untied it: I advanced tothe side over against her: they were all too large. The beautifulgrisette measured them one by one across my hand. --It would notalter their dimensions. --She begg'd I would try a single pair, which seemed to be the least. --She held it open;--my hand slippedinto it at once. --It will not do, said I, shaking my head alittle. --No, said she, doing the same thing. 

There are certain combined looks of simple subtlety, --where whim, and sense, and seriousness, and nonsense, are so blended, that allthe languages of Babel set loose together, could not express them;--they are communicated and caught so instantaneously, that you canscarce say which party is the infector. I leave it to your men ofwords to swell pages about it--it is enough in the present to sayagain, the gloves would not do; so, folding our hands within ourarms, we both lolled upon the counter--it was narrow, and there wasjust room for the parcel to lay between us. 

The beautiful grisette looked sometimes at the gloves, thensideways to the window, then at the gloves, --and then at me. I wasnot disposed to break silence: --I followed her example: so, Ilooked at the gloves, then to the window, then at the gloves, andthen at her, --and so on alternately. 

I found I lost considerably in every attack: --she had a quickblack eye, and shot through two such long and silken eyelashes withsuch penetration, that she look'd into my very heart and reins. --Itmay seem strange, but I could actually feel she did. -

It is no matter, said I, taking up a couple of the pairs next me, and putting them into my pocket. 

I was sensible the beautiful grisette had not asked above a singlelivre above the price. --I wish'd she had asked a livre more, andwas puzzling my brains how to bring the matter about. --Do youthink, my dear Sir, said she, mistaking my embarrassment, that Icould ask a sous too much of a stranger--and of a stranger whosepoliteness, more than his want of gloves, has done me the honour tolay himself at my mercy?--M'en croyez capable?--Faith! not I, saidI; and if you were, you are welcome. So counting the money intoher hand, and with a lower bow than one generally makes to ashopkeeper's wife, I went out, and her lad with his parcel followedme. 

THE TRANSLATION. PARIS. 

There was nobody in the box I was let into but a kindly old Frenchofficer. I love the character, not only because I honour the manwhose manners are softened by a profession which makes bad menworse; but that I once knew one, --for he is no more, --and whyshould I not rescue one page from violation by writing his name init, and telling the world it was Captain Tobias Shandy, the dearestof my flock and friends, whose philanthropy I never think of atthis long distance from his death--but my eyes gush out with tears. For his sake I have a predilection for the whole corps of veterans;and so I strode over the two back rows of benches and placed myselfbeside him. 

The old officer was reading attentively a small pamphlet, it mightbe the book of the opera, with a large pair of spectacles. As soonas I sat down, he took his spectacles off, and putting them into ashagreen case, return'd them and the book into his pocket together. I half rose up, and made him a bow. 

Translate this into any civilized language in the world--the senseis this:

"Here's a poor stranger come into the box--he seems as if he knewnobody; and is never likely, was he to be seven years in Paris, ifevery man he comes near keeps his spectacles upon his nose: --'tisshutting the door of conversation absolutely in his face--and usinghim worse than a German. "

The French officer might as well have said it all aloud: and if hehad, I should in course have put the bow I made him into Frenchtoo, and told him, "I was sensible of his attention, and return'dhim a thousand thanks for it. "

There is not a secret so aiding to the progress of sociality, as toget master of this SHORT HAND, and to be quick in rendering theseveral turns of looks and limbs with all their inflections anddelineations, into plain words. For my own part, by long habitude, I do it so mechanically, that, when I walk the streets of London, Igo translating all the way; and have more than once stood behind inthe circle, where not three words have been said, and have broughtoff twenty different dialogues with me, which I could have fairlywrote down and sworn to. 

I was going one evening to Martini's concert at Milan, and, wasjust entering the door of the hall, when the Marquisina di F- wascoming out in a sort of a hurry: --she was almost upon me before Isaw her; so I gave a spring to once side to let her pass. --She haddone the same, and on the same side too; so we ran our headstogether: she instantly got to the other side to get out: I wasjust as unfortunate as she had been, for I had sprung to that side, and opposed her passage again. --We both flew together to the otherside, and then back, --and so on: --it was ridiculous: we bothblush'd intolerably: so I did at last the thing I should have doneat first;--I stood stock-still, and the Marquisina had no moredifficulty. I had no power to go into the room, till I had madeher so much reparation as to wait and follow her with my eye to theend of the passage. She look'd back twice, and walk'd along itrather sideways, as if she would make room for any one coming upstairs to pass her. --No, said I--that's a vile translation: theMarquisina has a right to the best apology I can make her, and thatopening is left for me to do it in;--so I ran and begg'd pardon forthe embarrassment I had given her, saying it was my intention tohave made her way. She answered, she was guided by the sameintention towards me;--so we reciprocally thank'd each other. Shewas at the top of the stairs; and seeing no cicisbeo near her, Ibegg'd to hand her to her coach;--so we went down the stairs, stopping at every third step to talk of the concert and theadventure. --Upon my word, Madame, said I, when I had handed her in, I made six different efforts to let you go out. --And I made sixefforts, replied she, to let you enter. --I wish to heaven you wouldmake a seventh, said I. --With all my heart, said she, making room. --Life is too short to be long about the forms of it, --so Iinstantly stepp'd in, and she carried me home with her. --And whatbecame of the concert, St. Cecilia, who I suppose was at it, knowsmore than I. 

I will only add, that the connexion which arose out of thetranslation gave me more pleasure than any one I had the honour tomake in Italy. 

THE DWARF. PARIS. 

I had never heard the remark made by any one in my life, except byone; and who that was will probably come out in this chapter; sothat being pretty much unprepossessed, there must have been groundsfor what struck me the moment I cast my eyes over the parterre, --and that was, the unaccountable sport of Nature in forming suchnumbers of dwarfs. --No doubt she sports at certain times in almostevery corner of the world; but in Paris there is no end to heramusements. --The goddess seems almost as merry as she is wise. 

As I carried my idea out of the Opera Comique with me, I measuredevery body I saw walking in the streets by it. --Melancholyapplication! especially where the size was extremely little, --theface extremely dark, --the eyes quick, --the nose long, --the teethwhite, --the jaw prominent, --to see so many miserables, by force ofaccidents driven out of their own proper class into the very vergeof another, which it gives me pain to write down: --every third mana pigmy!--some by rickety heads and hump backs;--others by bandylegs;--a third set arrested by the hand of Nature in the sixth andseventh years of their growth;--a fourth, in their perfect andnatural state like dwarf apple trees; from the first rudiments andstamina of their existence, never meant to grow higher. 

A Medical Traveller might say, 'tis owing to undue bandages;--aSplenetic one, to want of air;--and an Inquisitive Traveller, tofortify the system, may measure the height of their houses, --thenarrowness of their streets, and in how few feet square in thesixth and seventh stories such numbers of the bourgeoisie eat andsleep together; but I remember Mr. Shandy the elder, who accountedfor nothing like any body else, in speaking one evening of thesematters, averred that children, like other animals, might beincreased almost to any size, provided they came right into theworld; but the misery was, the citizens of were Paris so coop'd up, that they had not actually room enough to get them. --I do not callit getting anything, said he;--'tis getting nothing. --Nay, continued he, rising in his argument, 'tis getting worse thannothing, when all you have got after twenty or five and twentyyears of the tenderest care and most nutritious aliment bestowedupon it, shall not at last be as high as my leg. Now, Mr. Shandybeing very short, there could be nothing more said of it. 

As this is not a work of reasoning, I leave the solution as I foundit, and content myself with the truth only of the remark, which isverified in every lane and by-lane of Paris. I was walking downthat which leads from the Carousal to the Palais Royal, andobserving a little boy in some distress at the side of the gutterwhich ran down the middle of it, I took hold of his hand and help'dhim over. Upon turning up his face to look at him after, Iperceived he was about forty. --Never mind, said I, some good bodywill do as much for me when I am ninety. 

I feel some little principles within me which incline me to bemerciful towards this poor blighted part of my species, who haveneither size nor strength to get on in the world. --I cannot bear tosee one of them trod upon; and had scarce got seated beside my oldFrench officer, ere the disgust was exercised, by seeing the verything happen under the box we sat in. 

At the end of the orchestra, and betwixt that and the first sidebox, there is a small esplanade left, where, when the house isfull, numbers of all ranks take sanctuary. Though you stand, as inthe parterre, you pay the same price as in the orchestra. A poordefenceless being of this order had got thrust somehow or otherinto this luckless place;--the night was hot, and he was surroundedby beings two feet and a half higher than himself. The dwarfsuffered inexpressibly on all sides; but the thing which incommodedhim most, was a tall corpulent German, near seven feet high, whostood directly betwixt him and all possibility of his seeing eitherthe stage or the actors. The poor dwarf did all he could to get apeep at what was going forwards, by seeking for some little openingbetwixt the German's arm and his body, trying first on one side, then the other; but the German stood square in the mostunaccommodating posture that can be imagined: --the dwarf might aswell have been placed at the bottom of the deepest draw-well inParis; so he civilly reached up his hand to the German's sleeve, and told him his distress. --The German turn'd his head back, lookeddown upon him as Goliah did upon David, --and unfeelingly resumedhis posture. 

I was just then taking a pinch of snuff out of my monk's littlehorn box. --And how would thy meek and courteous spirit, my dearmonk! so temper'd to BEAR AND FORBEAR!--how sweetly would it havelent an ear to this poor soul's complaint!

The old French officer, seeing me lift up my eyes with an emotion, as I made the apostrophe, took the liberty to ask me what was thematter?--I told him the story in three words; and added, howinhuman it was. 

By this time the dwarf was driven to extremes, and in his firsttransports, which are generally unreasonable, had told the Germanhe would cut off his long queue with his knife. --The German look'dback coolly, and told him he was welcome, if he could reach it. 

An injury sharpen'd by an insult, be it to whom it will, makesevery man of sentiment a party: I could have leap'd out of the boxto have redressed it. --The old French officer did it with much lessconfusion; for leaning a little over, and nodding to a sentinel, and pointing at the same time with his finger at the distress, --thesentinel made his way to it. --There was no occasion to tell thegrievance, --the thing told himself; so thrusting back the Germaninstantly with his musket, --he took the poor dwarf by the hand, andplaced him before him. --This is noble! said I, clapping my handstogether. --And yet you would not permit this, said the old officer, in England. 

- In England, dear Sir, said I, WE SIT ALL AT OUR EASE. 

The old French officer would have set me at unity with myself, incase I had been at variance, --by saying it was a bon mot;--and, asa bon mot is always worth something at Paris, he offered me a pinchof snuff. 

THE ROSE. PARIS. 

It was now my turn to ask the old French officer "What was thematter?" for a cry of "Haussez les mains, Monsieur l'Abbe!" re-echoed from a dozen different parts of the parterre, was asunintelligible to me, as my apostrophe to the monk had been to him. 

He told me it was some poor Abbe in one of the upper loges, who, hesupposed, had got planted perdu behind a couple of grisettes inorder to see the opera, and that the parterre espying him, wereinsisting upon his holding up both his hands during therepresentation. --And can it be supposed, said I, that anecclesiastic would pick the grisettes' pockets? The old Frenchofficer smiled, and whispering in my ear, opened a door ofknowledge which I had no idea of. 

Good God! said I, turning pale with astonishment--is it possible, that a people so smit with sentiment should at the same time be sounclean, and so unlike themselves, --Quelle grossierte! added I. 

The French officer told me, it was an illiberal sarcasm at thechurch, which had begun in the theatre about the time the Tartuffewas given in it by Moliere: but like other remains of Gothicmanners, was declining. --Every nation, continued he, have theirrefinements and grossiertes, in which they take the lead, and loseit of one another by turns: --that he had been in most countries, but never in one where he found not some delicacies, which othersseemed to want. Le POUR et le CONTRE se trouvent en chaque nation;there is a balance, said he, of good and bad everywhere; andnothing but the knowing it is so, can emancipate one half of theworld from the prepossession which it holds against the other: --that the advantage of travel, as it regarded the scavoir vivre, wasby seeing a great deal both of men and manners; it taught us mutualtoleration; and mutual toleration, concluded he, making me a bow, taught us mutual love. 

The old French officer delivered this with an air of such candourand good sense, as coincided with my first favourable impressionsof his character: --I thought I loved the man; but I fear I mistookthe object;--'twas my own way of thinking--the difference was, Icould not have expressed it half so well. 

It is alike troublesome to both the rider and his beast, --if thelatter goes pricking up his ears, and starting all the way at everyobject which he never saw before. --I have as little torment of thiskind as any creature alive; and yet I honestly confess, that many athing gave me pain, and that I blush'd at many a word the firstmonth, --which I found inconsequent and perfectly innocent thesecond. 

Madame do Rambouliet, after an acquaintance of about six weeks withher, had done me the honour to take me in her coach about twoleagues out of town. --Of all women, Madame de Rambouliet is themost correct; and I never wish to see one of more virtues andpurity of heart. --In our return back, Madame de Rambouliet desiredme to pull the cord. --I asked her if she wanted anything--Rien quepour pisser, said Madame de Rambouliet. 

Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Madame de Rambouliet p-ss on. --And, ye fair mystic nymphs! go each one PLUCK YOUR ROSE, andscatter them in your path, --for Madame de Rambouliet did no more. --I handed Madame de Rambouliet out of the coach; and had I been thepriest of the chaste Castalia, I could not have served at herfountain with a more respectful decorum. 

THE FILLE DE CHAMBRE. PARIS. 

What the old French officer had delivered upon travelling, bringingPolonius's advice to his son upon the same subject into my head, --and that bringing in Hamlet, and Hamlet the rest of Shakespeare'sworks, I stopp'd at the Quai de Conti in my return home, topurchase the whole set. 

The bookseller said he had not a set in the world. Comment! saidI, taking one up out of a set which lay upon the counter betwixtus. --He said they were sent him only to be got bound, and were tobe sent back to Versailles in the morning to the Count de B-. 

- And does the Count de B-, said I, read Shakespeare? C'est unesprit fort, replied the bookseller. --He loves English books! andwhat is more to his honour, Monsieur, he loves the English too. You speak this so civilly, said I, that it is enough to oblige anEnglishman to lay out a louis d'or or two at your shop. --Thebookseller made a bow, and was going to say something, when a youngdecent girl about twenty, who by her air and dress seemed to befille de chambre to some devout woman of fashion, come into theshop and asked for Les Egarements du Coeur et de l'Esprit: thebookseller gave her the book directly; she pulled out a littlegreen satin purse run round with a riband of the same colour, andputting her finger and thumb into it, she took out the money andpaid for it. As I had nothing more to stay me in the shop, we bothwalk'd out at the door together. 

- And what have you to do, my dear, said I, with The Wanderings ofthe Heart, who scarce know yet you have one? nor, till love hasfirst told you it, or some faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst thou ever be sure it is so. --Le Dieu m'en garde! said thegirl. --With reason, said I, for if it is a good one, 'tis pity itshould be stolen; 'tis a little treasure to thee, and gives abetter air to your face, than if it was dress'd out with pearls. 

The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding hersatin purse by its riband in her hand all the time. --'Tis a verysmall one, said I, taking hold of the bottom of it--she held ittowards me--and there is very little in it, my dear, said I; but bebut as good as thou art handsome, and heaven will fill it. I had aparcel of crowns in my hand to pay for Shakespeare; and, as she hadlet go the purse entirely, I put a single one in; and, tying up theriband in a bow-knot, returned it to her. 

The young girl made me more a humble courtesy than a low one: --'twas one of those quiet, thankful sinkings, where the spirit bowsitself down, --the body does no more than tell it. I never gave agirl a crown in my life which gave me half the pleasure. 

My advice, my dear, would not have been worth a pin to you, said I, if I had not given this along with it: but now, when you see thecrown, you'll remember it;--so don't, my dear, lay it out inribands. 

Upon my word, Sir, said the girl, earnestly, I am incapable;--insaying which, as is usual in little bargains of honour, she gave meher hand: --En verite, Monsieur, je mettrai cet argent apart, saidshe. 

When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, itsanctifies their most private walks: so, notwithstanding it wasdusky, yet as both our roads lay the same way, we made no scrupleof walking along the Quai de Conti together. 

She made me a second courtesy in setting off, and before we gottwenty yards from the door, as if she had not done enough before, she made a sort of a little stop to tell me again--she thank'd me. 

It was a small tribute, I told her, which I could not avoid payingto virtue, and would not be mistaken in the person I had beenrendering it to for the world;--but I see innocence, my dear, inyour face, --and foul befall the man who ever lays a snare in itsway!

The girl seem'd affected some way or other with what I said;--shegave a low sigh: --I found I was not empowered to enquire at allafter it, --so said nothing more till I got to the corner of the Ruede Nevers, where, we were to part. 

- But is this the way, my dear, said I, to the Hotel de Modene?She told me it was;--or that I might go by the Rue de Gueneguault, which was the next turn. --Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue deGueneguault, said I, for two reasons; first, I shall please myself, and next, I shall give you the protection of my company as far onyour way as I can. The girl was sensible I was civil--and said, she wished the Hotel de Modene was in the Rue de St. Pierre. --Youlive there? said I. --She told me she was fille de chambre to MadameR-. --Good God! said I, 'tis the very lady for whom I have brought aletter from Amiens. --The girl told me that Madame R-, she believed, expected a stranger with a letter, and was impatient to see him: --so I desired the girl to present my compliments to Madame R-, andsay, I would certainly wait upon her in the morning. 

We stood still at the corner of the Rue de Nevers whilst thispass'd. --We then stopped a moment whilst she disposed of herEgarements du Coeur &c. More commodiously than carrying them in herhand--they were two volumes: so I held the second for her whilstshe put the first into her pocket; and then she held her pocket, and I put in the other after it. 

'Tis sweet to feel by what fine spun threads our affections aredrawn together. 

We set off afresh, and as she took her third step, the girl put herhand within my arm. --I was just bidding her, --but she did it ofherself, with that undeliberating simplicity, which show'd it wasout of her head that she had never seen me before. For my ownpart, I felt the conviction of consanguinity so strongly, that Icould not help turning half round to look in her face, and see if Icould trace out any thing in it of a family likeness. --Tut! said I, are we not all relations?

When we arrived at the turning up of the Rue de Gueneguault, Istopp'd to bid her adieu for good and all: the girl would thank meagain for my company and kindness. --She bid me adieu twice. --Irepeated it as often; and so cordial was the parting between us, that had it happened any where else, I'm not sure but I should havesigned it with a kiss of charity, as warm and holy as an apostle. 

But in Paris, as none kiss each other but the men, --I did, whatamounted to the same thing -

- I bid God bless her. 

THE PASSPORT. PARIS. 

When I got home to my hotel, La Fleur told me I had been enquiredafter by the Lieutenant de Police. --The deuce take it! said I, --Iknow the reason. It is time the reader should know it, for in theorder of things in which it happened, it was omitted: not that itwas out of my head; but that had I told it then it might have beenforgotten now;--and now is the time I want it. 

I had left London with so much precipitation, that it never enter'dmy mind that we were at war with France; and had reached Dover, andlooked through my glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before theidea presented itself; and with this in its train, that there wasno getting there without a passport. Go but to the end of astreet, I have a mortal aversion for returning back no wiser than Iset out; and as this was one of the greatest efforts I had evermade for knowledge, I could less bear the thoughts of it: sohearing the Count de--had hired the packet, I begg'd he would takeme in his suite. The Count had some little knowledge of me, somade little or no difficulty, --only said, his inclination to serveme could reach no farther than Calais, as he was to return by wayof Brussels to Paris; however, when I had once pass'd there, Imight get to Paris without interruption; but that in Paris I mustmake friends and shift for myself. --Let me get to Paris, Monsieurle Count, said I, --and I shall do very well. So I embark'd, andnever thought more of the matter. 

When La Fleur told me the Lieutenant de Police had been enquiringafter me, --the thing instantly recurred;--and by the time La Fleurhad well told me, the master of the hotel came into my room to tellme the same thing, with this addition to it, that my passport hadbeen particularly asked after: the master of the hotel concludedwith saying, He hoped I had one. --Not I, faith! said I. 

The master of the hotel retired three steps from me, as from aninfected person, as I declared this;--and poor La Fleur advancedthree steps towards me, and with that sort of movement which a goodsoul makes to succour a distress'd one: --the fellow won my heartby it; and from that single trait I knew his character asperfectly, and could rely upon it as firmly, as if he had served mewith fidelity for seven years. 

Mon seigneur! cried the master of the hotel; but recollectinghimself as he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the toneof it. --If Monsieur, said he, has not a passport (apparemment) inall likelihood he has friends in Paris who can procure him one. --Not that I know of, quoth I, with an air of indifference. --Thencertes, replied he, you'll be sent to the Bastile or the Chateletau moins. --Poo! said I, the King of France is a good natur'd soul:--he'll hurt nobody. --Cela n'empeche pas, said he--you willcertainly be sent to the Bastile to-morrow morning. --But I've takenyour lodgings for a month, answer'd I, and I'll not quit them a daybefore the time for all the kings of France in the world. La Fleurwhispered in my ear, That nobody could oppose the king of France. 

Pardi! said my host, ces Messieurs Anglois sont des gens tresextraordinaires;--and, having both said and sworn it, --he went out. 

THE PASSPORT. THE HOTEL AT PARIS. 

I could not find in my heart to torture La Fleur's with a seriouslook upon the subject of my embarrassment, which was the reason Ihad treated it so cavalierly: and to show him how light it layupon my mind, I dropt the subject entirely; and whilst he waitedupon me at supper, talk'd to him with more than usual gaiety aboutParis, and of the Opera Comique. --La Fleur had been there himself, and had followed me through the streets as far as the bookseller'sshop; but seeing me come out with the young fille de chambre, andthat we walk'd down the Quai de Conti together, La Fleur deem'd itunnecessary to follow me a step further;--so making his ownreflections upon it, he took a shorter cut, --and got to the hotelin time to be inform'd of the affair of the police against myarrival. 

As soon as the honest creature had taken away, and gone down to suphimself, I then began to think a little seriously about mysituation. -

- And here, I know, Eugenius, thou wilt smile at the remembrance ofa short dialogue which passed betwixt us the moment I was going toset out: --I must tell it here. 

Eugenius, knowing that I was as little subject to be overburden'dwith money as thought, had drawn me aside to interrogate me howmuch I had taken care for. Upon telling him the exact sum, Eugenius shook his head, and said it would not do; so pull'd outhis purse in order to empty it into mine. --I've enough inconscience, Eugenius, said I. --Indeed, Yorick, you have not, replied Eugenius; I know France and Italy better than you. --But youdon't consider, Eugenius, said I, refusing his offer, that before Ihave been three days in Paris, I shall take care to say or dosomething or other for which I shall get clapp'd up into theBastile, and that I shall live there a couple of months entirely atthe king of France's expense. --I beg pardon, said Eugenius drily:really I had forgot that resource. 

Now the event I treated gaily came seriously to my door. 

Is it folly, or nonchalance, or philosophy, or pertinacity--or whatis it in me, that, after all, when La Fleur had gone down stairs, and I was quite alone, I could not bring down my mind to think ofit otherwise than I had then spoken of it to Eugenius?

- And as for the Bastile; the terror is in the word. --Make the mostof it you can, said I to myself, the Bastile is but another wordfor a tower;--and a tower is but another word for a house you can'tget out of. --Mercy on the gouty! for they are in it twice a year. --But with nine livres a day, and pen and ink, and paper, andpatience, albeit a man can't get out, he may do very well within, --at least for a mouth or six weeks; at the end of which, if he is aharmless fellow, his innocence appears, and he comes out a betterand wiser man than he went in. 

I had some occasion (I forget what) to step into the court-yard, asI settled this account; and remember I walk'd down stairs in nosmall triumph with the conceit of my reasoning. --Beshrew the sombrepencil! said I, vauntingly--for I envy not its powers, which paintsthe evils of life with so hard and deadly a colouring. The mindsits terrified at the objects she has magnified herself, andblackened: reduce them to their proper size and hue, she overlooksthem. --'Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition, --the Bastileis not an evil to be despised;--but strip it of its towers--fill upthe fosse, --unbarricade the doors--call it simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper--and not of a man, which holds you in it, --the evil vanishes, and you bear the otherhalf without complaint. 

I was interrupted in the heyday of this soliloquy, with a voicewhich I took to be of a child, which complained "it could not getout. "--I look'd up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without farther attention. 

In my return back through the passage, I heard the same wordsrepeated twice over; and, looking up, I saw it was a starling hungin a little cage. --"I can't get out, --I can't get out, " said thestarling. 

I stood looking at the bird: and to every person who came throughthe passage it ran fluttering to the side towards which theyapproach'd it, with the same lamentation of its captivity. "Ican't get out, " said the starling. --God help thee! said I, but I'lllet thee out, cost what it will; so I turned about the cage to getto the door: it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage to pieces. --Itook both hands to it. 

The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis pressed his breastagainst it as if impatient. --I fear, poor creature! said I, Icannot set thee at liberty. --"No, " said the starling, -- "I can'tget out--I can't get out, " said the starling. 

I vow I never had my affections more tenderly awakened; nor do Iremember an incident in my life, where the dissipated spirits, towhich my reason had been a bubble, were so suddenly call'd home. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to nature werethey chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all my systematicreasonings upon the Bastile; and I heavily walked upstairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down them. 

Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! said I, --still thouart a bitter draught! and though thousands in all ages have beenmade to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. --'Tis thou, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, addressing myself toLiberty, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste isgrateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change. --No TINT of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turnthy sceptre into iron: --with thee to smile upon him as he eats hiscrust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thouart exiled!--Gracious Heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the laststep but one in my ascent, grant me but health, thou great Bestowerof it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion, --andshower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divineprovidence, upon those heads which are aching for them!

THE CAPTIVE. PARIS. 

The bird in his cage pursued me into my room; I sat down close tomy table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure tomyself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination. 

I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow-creatures bornto no inheritance but slavery: but finding, however affecting thepicture was, that I could not bring it near me, and that themultitude of sad groups in it did but distract me. -

- I took a single captive, and having first shut him up in hisdungeon, I then look'd through the twilight of his grated door totake his picture. 

I beheld his body half-wasted away with long expectation andconfinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it waswhich arises from hope deferr'd. Upon looking nearer I saw himpale and feverish: in thirty years the western breeze had not oncefann'd his blood;--he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time--nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through hislattice. --His children -

But here my heart began to bleed--and I was forced to go on withanother part of the portrait. 

He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the furthestcorner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed: alittle calendar of small sticks were laid at the head, notch'd allover with the dismal days and nights he had passed there;--he hadone of these little sticks in his hand, and, with a rusty nail hewas etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As Idarkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eyetowards the door, then cast it down, --shook his head, and went onwith his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, ashe turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. --Hegave a deep sigh. --I saw the iron enter into his soul!--I burstinto tears. --I could not sustain the picture of confinement whichmy fancy had drawn. --I started up from my chair, and calling LaFleur: I bid him bespeak me a remise, and have it ready at thedoor of the hotel by nine in the morning. 

I'll go directly, said I, myself to Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul. 

La Fleur would have put me to bed; but--not willing he should seeanything upon my cheek which would cost the honest fellow a heart-ache, --I told him I would go to bed by myself, --and bid him go dothe same. 

THE STARLING. ROAD TO VERSAILLES. 

I got into my remise the hour I proposed: La Fleur got up behind, and I bid the coachman make the best of his way to Versailles. 

As there was nothing in this road, or rather nothing which I lookfor in travelling, I cannot fill up the blank better than with ashort history of this self-same bird, which became the subject ofthe last chapter. 

Whilst the Honourable Mr. --was waiting for a wind at Dover, it hadbeen caught upon the cliffs, before it could well fly, by anEnglish lad who was his groom; who, not caring to destroy it, hadtaken it in his breast into the packet;--and, by course of feedingit, and taking it once under his protection, in a day or two grewfond of it, and got it safe along with him to Paris. 

At Paris the lad had laid out a livre in a little cage for thestarling, and as he had little to do better the five months hismaster staid there, he taught it, in his mother's tongue, the foursimple words--(and no more)--to which I own'd myself so much itsdebtor. 

Upon his master's going on for Italy, the lad had given it to themaster of the hotel. But his little song for liberty being in anUNKNOWN language at Paris, the bird had little or no store set byhim: so La Fleur bought both him and his cage for me for a bottleof Burgundy. 

In my return from Italy I brought him with me to the country inwhose language he had learned his notes; and telling the story ofhim to Lord A-, Lord A- begg'd the bird of me;--in a week Lord A-gave him to Lord B-; Lord B- made a present of him to Lord C-; andLord C-'s gentleman sold him to Lord D-'s for a shilling; Lord D-gave him to Lord E-; and so on--half round the alphabet. From thatrank he pass'd into the lower house, and pass'd the hands of asmany commoners. But as all these wanted to GET IN, and my birdwanted to GET OUT, he had almost as little store set by him inLondon as in Paris. 

It is impossible but many of my readers must have heard of him; andif any by mere chance have ever seen him, I beg leave to informthem, that that bird was my bird, or some vile copy set up torepresent him. 

I have nothing farther to add upon him, but that from that time tothis I have borne this poor starling as the crest to my arms. --Thus:

[Picture which cannot be reproduced]

- And let the herald's officers twist his neck about if they dare. 

THE ADDRESS. VERSAILLES. 

I should not like to have my enemy take a view of my mind when I amgoing to ask protection of any man; for which reason I generallyendeavour to protect myself; but this going to Monsieur le Duc deC- was an act of compulsion; had it been an act of choice, I shouldhave done it, I suppose, like other people. 

How many mean plans of dirty address, as I went along, did myservile heart form! I deserved the Bastile for every one of them. 

Then nothing would serve me when I got within sight of Versailles, but putting words and sentences together, and conceiving attitudesand tones to wreath myself into Monsieur le Duc de C-'s goodgraces. --This will do, said I. --Just as well, retorted I again, asa coat carried up to him by an adventurous tailor, without takinghis measure. Fool! continued I, --see Monsieur le Duc's facefirst;--observe what character is written in it;--take notice inwhat posture he stands to hear you;--mark the turns and expressionsof his body and limbs;--and for the tone, --the first sound whichcomes from his lips will give it you; and from all these togetheryou'll compound an address at once upon the spot, which cannotdisgust the Duke;--the ingredients are his own, and most likely togo down. 

Well! said I, I wish it well over. --Coward again! as if man to manwas not equal throughout the whole surface of the globe; and if inthe field--why not face to face in the cabinet too? And trust me, Yorick, whenever it is not so, man is false to himself and betrayshis own succours ten times where nature does it once. Go to theDuc de C- with the Bastile in thy looks;--my life for it, thou wiltbe sent back to Paris in half an hour with an escort. 

I believe so, said I. --Then I'll go to the Duke, by heaven! withall the gaiety and debonairness in the world. -

- And there you are wrong again, replied I. --A heart at ease, Yorick, flies into no extremes--'tis ever on its centre. --Well!well! cried I, as the coachman turn'd in at the gates, I find Ishall do very well: and by the time he had wheel'd round thecourt, and brought me up to the door, I found myself so much thebetter for my own lecture, that I neither ascended the steps like avictim to justice, who was to part with life upon the top most, --nor did I mount them with a skip and a couple of strides, as I dowhen I fly up, Eliza! to thee to meet it. 

As I entered the door of the saloon I was met by a person, whopossibly might be the maitre d'hotel, but had more the air of oneof the under secretaries, who told me the Duc de C- was busy. --I amutterly ignorant, said I, of the forms of obtaining an audience, being an absolute stranger, and what is worse in the presentconjuncture of affairs, being an Englishman too. --He replied, thatdid not increase the difficulty. --I made him a slight bow, and toldhim, I had something of importance to say to Monsieur le Duc. Thesecretary look'd towards the stairs, as if he was about to leave meto carry up this account to some one. --But I must not mislead you, said I, --for what I have to say is of no manner of importance toMonsieur le Duc de C---but of great importance to myself. --C'estune autre affaire, replied he. --Not at all, said I, to a man ofgallantry. --But pray, good sir, continued I, when can a strangerhope to have access?--In not less than two hours, said he, lookingat his watch. The number of equipages in the court-yard seemed tojustify the calculation, that I could have no nearer a prospect;--and as walking backwards and forwards in the saloon, without a soulto commune with, was for the time as bad as being in the Bastileitself, I instantly went back to my remise, and bid the coachmandrive me to the Cordon Bleu, which was the nearest hotel. 

I think there is a fatality in it;--I seldom go to the place I setout for. 

LE PATISSIER. VERSAILLES. 

Before I had got half way down the street I changed my mind: as Iam at Versailles, thought I, I might as well take a view of thetown; so I pull'd the cord, and ordered the coachman to drive roundsome of the principal streets. --I suppose the town is not verylarge, said I. --The coachman begg'd pardon for setting me right, and told me it was very superb, and that numbers of the first dukesand marquises and counts had hotels. --The Count de B-, of whom thebookseller at the Quai de Conti had spoke so handsomely the nightbefore, came instantly into my mind. --And why should I not go, thought I, to the Count de B-, who has so high an idea of Englishbooks and English men--and tell him my story? so I changed my minda second time. --In truth it was the third; for I had intended thatday for Madame de R-, in the Rue St. Pierre, and had devoutly senther word by her fille de chambre that I would assuredly wait uponher;--but I am governed by circumstances;--I cannot govern them:so seeing a man standing with a basket on the other side of thestreet, as if he had something to sell, I bid La Fleur go up tohim, and enquire for the Count's hotel. 

La Fleur returned a little pale; and told me it was a Chevalier deSt. Louis selling pates. --It is impossible, La Fleur, said I. --LaFleur could no more account for the phenomenon than myself; butpersisted in his story: he had seen the croix set in gold, withits red riband, he said, tied to his buttonhole--and had lookedinto the basket and seen the pates which the Chevalier was selling;so could not be mistaken in that. 

Such a reverse in man's life awakens a better principle thancuriosity: I could not help looking for some time at him as I satin the remise: --the more I look'd at him, his croix, and hisbasket, the stronger they wove themselves into my brain. --I got outof the remise, and went towards him. 

He was begirt with a clean linen apron which fell below his knees, and with a sort of a bib that went half way up his breast; upon thetop of this, but a little below the hem, hung his croix. Hisbasket of little pates was covered over with a white damask napkin;another of the same kind was spread at the bottom; and there was alook of proprete and neatness throughout, that one might havebought his pates of him, as much from appetite as sentiment. 

He made an offer of them to neither; but stood still with them atthe corner of an hotel, for those to buy who chose it withoutsolicitation. 

He was about forty-eight;--of a sedate look, something approachingto gravity. I did not wonder. --I went up rather to the basket thanhim, and having lifted up the napkin, and taking one of his patesinto my hand, --I begg'd he would explain the appearance whichaffected me. 

He told me in a few words, that the best part of his life hadpassed in the service, in which, after spending a small patrimony, he had obtained a company and the croix with it; but that, at theconclusion of the last peace, his regiment being reformed, and thewhole corps, with those of some other regiments, left without anyprovision, he found himself in a wide world without friends, without a livre, --and indeed, said he, without anything but this, --(pointing, as he said it, to his croix). --The poor Chevalier won mypity, and he finished the scene with winning my esteem too. 

The king, he said, was the most generous of princes, but hisgenerosity could neither relieve nor reward everyone, and it wasonly his misfortune to be amongst the number. He had a littlewife, he said, whom he loved, who did the patisserie; and added, hefelt no dishonour in defending her and himself from want in thisway--unless Providence had offer'd him a better. 

It would be wicked to withhold a pleasure from the good, in passingover what happen'd to this poor Chevalier of St. Louis about ninemonths after. 

It seems he usually took his stand near the iron gates which leadup to the palace, and as his croix had caught the eyes of numbers, numbers had made the same enquiry which I had done. --He had toldthem the same story, and always with so much modesty and goodsense, that it had reach'd at last the king's ears;--who, hearingthe Chevalier had been a gallant officer, and respected by thewhole regiment as a man of honour and integrity, --he broke up hislittle trade by a pension of fifteen hundred livres a year. 

As I have told this to please the reader, I beg he will allow me torelate another, out of its order, to please myself: --the twostories reflect light upon each other, --and 'tis a pity they shouldbe parted. 

THE SWORD. RENNES. 

When states and empires have their periods of declension, and feelin their turns what distress and poverty is, --I stop not to tellthe causes which gradually brought the house d'E-, in Brittany, into decay. The Marquis d'E- had fought up against his conditionwith great firmness; wishing to preserve, and still show to theworld, some little fragments of what his ancestors had been;--theirindiscretions had put it out of his power. There was enough leftfor the little exigencies of OBSCURITY. --But he had two boys wholooked up to him for LIGHT;--he thought they deserved it. He hadtried his sword--it could not open the way, --the MOUNTING was tooexpensive, --and simple economy was not a match for it: --there wasno resource but commerce. 

In any other province in France, save Brittany, this was smitingthe root for ever of the little tree his pride and affection wish'dto see re-blossom. --But in Brittany, there being a provision forthis, he avail'd himself of it; and, taking an occasion when thestates were assembled at Rennes, the Marquis, attended with his twoboys, entered the court; and having pleaded the right of an ancientlaw of the duchy, which, though seldom claim'd, he said, was noless in force, he took his sword from his side: --Here, said he, take it; and be trusty guardians of it, till better times put me incondition to reclaim it. 

The president accepted the Marquis's sword: he staid a few minutesto see it deposited in the archives of his house--and departed. 

The Marquis and his whole family embarked the next clay forMartinico, and in about nineteen or twenty years of successfulapplication to business, with some unlook'd for bequests fromdistant branches of his house, return home to reclaim his nobility, and to support it. 

It was an incident of good fortune which will never happen to anytraveller but a Sentimental one, that I should be at Rennes at thevery time of this solemn requisition: I call it solemn;--it was soto me. 

The Marquis entered the court with his whole family: he supportedhis lady, --his eldest son supported his sister, and his youngestwas at the other extreme of the line next his mother;--he put hishandkerchief to his face twice. -

- There was a dead silence. When the Marquis had approached withinsix paces of the tribunal, he gave the Marchioness to his youngestson, and advancing three steps before his family, --he reclaim'd hissword. His sword was given him, and the moment he got it into hishand he drew it almost out of the scabbard: --'twas the shiningface of a friend he had once given up--he look'd attentively alongit, beginning at the hilt, as if to see whether it was the same, --when, observing a little rust which it had contracted near thepoint, he brought it near his eye, and bending his head down overit, --I think--I saw a tear fall upon the place. I could not bedeceived by what followed. 

"I shall find, " said he, "some OTHER WAY to get it off. "

When the Marquis had said this, he returned his sword into itsscabbard, made a bow to the guardians of it, --and, with his wifeand daughter, and his two sons following him, walk'd out. 

O, how I envied him his feelings!

THE PASSPORT. VERSAILLES. 

I found no difficulty in getting admittance to Monsieur le Count deB-. The set of Shakespeares was laid upon the table, and he wastumbling them over. I walk'd up close to the table, and givingfirst such a look at the books as to make him conceive I knew whatthey were, --I told him I had come without any one to present me, knowing I should meet with a friend in his apartment, who, Itrusted, would do it for me: --it is my countryman, the greatShakespeare, said I, pointing to his works--et ayez la boute, moncher ami, apostrophizing his spirit, added I, de me faire cethonneur-la. -

The Count smiled at the singularity of the introduction; and seeingI look'd a little pale and sickly, insisted upon my taking an arm-chair; so I sat down; and to save him conjectures upon a visit soout of all rule, I told him simply of the incident in thebookseller's shop, and how that had impelled me rather to go to himwith the story of a little embarrassment I was under, than to anyother man in France. --And what is your embarrassment? let me hearit, said the Count. So I told him the story just as I have told itthe reader. 

- And the master of my hotel, said I, as I concluded it, will needshave it, Monsieur le Count, that I shall be sent to the Bastile;--but I have no apprehensions, continued I;--for, in falling into thehands of the most polish'd people in the world, and being consciousI was a true man, and not come to spy the nakedness of the land, Iscarce thought I lay at their mercy. --It does not suit thegallantry of the French, Monsieur le Count, said I, to show itagainst invalids. 

An animated blush came into the Count de B-'s cheeks as I spokethis. --Ne craignez rien--Don't fear, said he. --Indeed, I don't, replied I again. --Besides, continued I, a little sportingly, I havecome laughing all the way from London to Paris, and I do not thinkMonsieur le Duc de Choiseul is such an enemy to mirth as to send meback crying for my pains. 

- My application to you, Monsieur le Count de B- (making him a lowbow), is to desire he will not. 

The Count heard me with great good nature, or I had not said halfas much, --and once or twice said, --C'est bien dit. So I rested mycause there--and determined to say no more about it. 

The Count led the discourse: we talk'd of indifferent things, --ofbooks, and politics, and men;--and then of women. --God bless themall! said I, after much discourse about them--there is not a manupon earth who loves them so much as I do: after all the foibles Ihave seen, and all the satires I have read against them, still Ilove them; being firmly persuaded that a man, who has not a sort ofaffection for the whole sex, is incapable of ever loving a singleone as he ought. 

Eh bien! Monsieur l'Anglois, said the Count, gaily;--you are notcome to spy the nakedness of the land;--I believe you;--ni encore, I dare say, THAT of our women!--But permit me to conjecture, --if, par hazard, they fell into your way, that the prospect would notaffect you. 

I have something within me which cannot bear the shock of the leastindecent insinuation: in the sportability of chit-chat I haveoften endeavoured to conquer it, and with infinite pain havehazarded a thousand things to a dozen of the sex together, --theleast of which I could not venture to a single one to gain heaven. 

Excuse me, Monsieur le Count, said I;--as for the nakedness of yourland, if I saw it, I should cast my eyes over it with tears inthem;--and for that of your women (blushing at the idea he hadexcited in me) I am so evangelical in this, and have such a fellow-feeling for whatever is weak about them, that I would cover it witha garment if I knew how to throw it on: --But I could wish, continued I, to spy the nakedness of their hearts, and through thedifferent disguises of customs, climates, and religion, find outwhat is good in them to fashion my own by: --and therefore am Icome. 

It is for this reason, Monsieur le Count, continued I, that I havenot seen the Palais Royal, --nor the Luxembourg, --nor the Facade ofthe Louvre, --nor have attempted to swell the catalogues we have ofpictures, statues, and churches. --I conceive every fair being as atemple, and would rather enter in, and see the original drawingsand loose sketches hung up in it, than the Transfiguration ofRaphael itself. 

The thirst of this, continued I, as impatient as that whichinflames the breast of the connoisseur, has led me from my own homeinto France, --and from France will lead me through Italy;--'tis aquiet journey of the heart in pursuit of Nature, and thoseaffections which arise out of her, which make us love each other, --and the world, better than we do. 

The Count said a great many civil things to me upon the occasion;and added very politely, how much he stood obliged to Shakespearefor making me known to him. --But a propos, said he;--Shakespeare isfull of great things;--he forgot a small punctilio of announcingyour name: --it puts you under a necessity of doing it yourself. 

THE PASSPORT. VERSAILLES. 

There is not a more perplexing affair in life to me, than to setabout telling any one who I am, --for there is scarce any body Icannot give a better account of than myself; and I have oftenwished I could do it in a single word, --and have an end of it. Itwas the only time and occasion in my life I could accomplish thisto any purpose;--for Shakespeare lying upon the table, andrecollecting I was in his books, I took up Hamlet, and turningimmediately to the grave-diggers' scene in the fifth act, I laid myfinger upon Yorick, and advancing the book to the Count, with myfinger all the way over the name, --Me voici! said I. 

Now, whether the idea of poor Yorick's skull was put out of theCount's mind by the reality of my own, or by what magic he coulddrop a period of seven or eight hundred years, makes nothing inthis account;--'tis certain the French conceive better than theycombine;--I wonder at nothing in this world, and the less at this;inasmuch as one of the first of our own Church, for whose candourand paternal sentiments I have the highest veneration, fell intothe same mistake in the very same case: --"He could not bear, " hesaid, "to look into the sermons wrote by the King of Denmark'sjester. " Good, my Lord said I; but there are two Yoricks. TheYorick your Lordship thinks of, has been dead and buried eighthundred years ago; he flourished in Horwendillus's court;--theother Yorick is myself, who have flourished, my Lord, in no court. --He shook his head. Good God! said I, you might as well confoundAlexander the Great with Alexander the Coppersmith, my lord!--"'Twas all one, " he replied. -

- If Alexander, King of Macedon, could have translated yourLordship, said I, I'm sure your Lordship would not have said so. 

The poor Count de B- fell but into the same ERROR. 

- Et, Monsieur, est-il Yorick? cried the Count. --Je le suis, saidI. --Vous?--Moi, --moi qui ai l'honneur de vous parler, Monsieur leComte. --Mon Dieu! said he, embracing me, --Vous etes Yorick!

The Count instantly put the Shakespeare into his pocket, and leftme alone in his room. 

THE PASSPORT. VERSAILLES. 

I could not conceive why the Count de B- had gone so abruptly outof the room, any more than I could conceive why he had put theShakespeare into his pocket. -

Mysteries which must explain themselves are not worth the loss oftime which a conjecture about them takes up: 'twas better to readShakespeare; so taking up "Much Ado About Nothing, " I transportedmyself instantly from the chair I sat in to Messina in Sicily, andgot so busy with Don Pedro, and Benedict, and Beatrice, that Ithought not of Versailles, the Count, or the passport. 

Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can at once surrender itselfto illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their wearymoments!--Long, --long since had ye number'd out my days, had I nottrod so great a part of them upon this enchanted ground. When myway is too rough for my feet, or too steep for my strength, I getoff it, to some smooth velvet path, which Fancy has scattered overwith rosebuds of delights; and having taken a few turns in it, comeback strengthened and refresh'd. --When evils press sore upon me, and there is no retreat from them in this world, then I take a newcourse;--I leave it, --and as I have a clearer idea of the Elysianfields than I have of heaven, I force myself, like AEneas, intothem. --I see him meet the pensive shade of his forsaken Dido, andwish to recognise it;--I see the injured spirit wave her head, andturn off silent from the author of her miseries and dishonours;--Ilose the feelings for myself in hers, and in those affections whichwere wont to make me mourn for her when I was at school. 

SURELY THIS IS NOT WALKING IN A VAIN SHADOW--NOR DOES MAN DISQUIETHIMSELF in vain BY IT: --he oftener does so in trusting the issueof his commotions to reason only. --I can safely say for myself, Iwas never able to conquer any one single bad sensation in my heartso decisively, as beating up as fast as I could for some kindly andgentle sensation to fight it upon its own ground

When I had got to the end of the third act the Count de B- entered, with my passport in his hand. Monsieur le Duc de C-, said theCount, is as good a prophet, I dare say, as he is a statesman. Unhomme qui rit, said the Duke, ne sera jamais dangereux. --Had itbeen for any one but the king's jester, added the Count, I couldnot have got it these two hours. --Pardonnez moi, Monsieur le Count, said I--I am not the king's jester. --But you are Yorick?--Yes. --Etvous plaisantez?--I answered, Indeed I did jest, --but was not paidfor it;--'twas entirely at my own expense. 

We have no jester at court, Monsieur le Count, said I; the last wehad was in the licentious reign of Charles II. ;--since which timeour manners have been so gradually refining, that our court atpresent is so full of patriots, who wish for NOTHING but thehonours and wealth of their country;--and our ladies are all sochaste, so spotless, so good, so devout, --there is nothing for ajester to make a jest of. -

Voila un persiflage! cried the Count. 

THE PASSPORT. VERSAILLES. 

As the passport was directed to all lieutenant-governors, governors, and commandants of cities, generals of armies, justiciaries, and all officers of justice, to let Mr. Yorick theking's jester, and his baggage, travel quietly along, I own thetriumph of obtaining the passport was not a little tarnish'd by thefigure I cut in it. --But there is nothing unmix'd in this world;and some of the gravest of our divines have carried it so far as toaffirm, that enjoyment itself was attended even with a sigh, --andthat the greatest THEY KNEW OF terminated, IN A GENERAL WAY, inlittle better than a convulsion. 

I remember the grave and learned Bevoriskius, in his Commentaryupon the Generations from Adam, very naturally breaks off in themiddle of a note to give an account to the world of a couple ofsparrows upon the out-edge of his window, which had incommoded himall the time he wrote, and at last had entirely taken him off fromhis genealogy. 

- 'Tis strange! writes Bevoriskius; but the facts are certain, forI have had the curiosity to mark them down one by one with my pen;--but the cock sparrow, during the little time that I could havefinished the other half of this note, has actually interrupted mewith the reiteration of his caresses three-and-twenty times and ahalf. 

How merciful, adds Bevoriskius, is heaven to his creatures!

Ill fated Yorick! that the gravest of thy brethren should be ableto write that to the world, which stains thy face with crimson tocopy, even in thy study. 

But this is nothing to my travels. --So I twice, --twice beg pardonfor it. 

CHARACTER. VERSAILLES. 

And how do you find the French? said the Count de B-, after he hadgiven me the passport. 

The reader may suppose, that after so obliging a proof of courtesy, I could not be at a loss to say something handsome to the enquiry. 

- Mais passe, pour cela. --Speak frankly, said he: do you find allthe urbanity in the French which the world give us the honour of?--I had found every thing, I said, which confirmed it. --Vraiment, said the Count, les Francois sont polis. --To an excess, replied I. 

The Count took notice of the word exces; and would have it I meantmore than I said. I defended myself a long time as well as I couldagainst it. --He insisted I had a reserve, and that I would speak myopinion frankly. 

I believe, Monsieur le Count, said I, that man has a certaincompass, as well as an instrument; and that the social and othercalls have occasion by turns for every key in him; so that if youbegin a note too high or too low, there must be a want either inthe upper or under part, to fill up the system of harmony. --TheCount de B- did not understand music, so desired me to explain itsome other way. A polish'd nation, my dear Count, said I, makesevery one its debtor: and besides, Urbanity itself, like the fairsex, has so many charms, it goes against the heart to say it can doill; and yet, I believe, there is but a certain line of perfection, that man, take him altogether, is empower'd to arrive at: --if hegets beyond, he rather exchanges qualities than gets them. I mustnot presume to say how far this has affected the French in thesubject we are speaking of;--but, should it ever be the case of theEnglish, in the progress of their refinements, to arrive at thesame polish which distinguishes the French, if we did not lose thepolitesse du coeur, which inclines men more to humane actions thancourteous ones, --we should at least lose that distinct variety andoriginality of character, which distinguishes them, not only fromeach other, but from all the world besides. 

I had a few of King William's shillings, as smooth as glass, in mypocket; and foreseeing they would be of use in the illustration ofmy hypothesis, I had got them into my hand when I had proceeded sofar: -

See, Monsieur le Count, said I, rising up, and laying them beforehim upon the table, --by jingling and rubbing one against anotherfor seventy years together in one body's pocket or another's, theyare become so much alike, you can scarce distinguish one shillingfrom another. 

The English, like ancient medals, kept more apart, and passing butfew people's hands, preserve the first sharpnesses which the finehand of Nature has given them;--they are not so pleasant to feel, --but in return the legend is so visible, that at the first look yousee whose image and superscription they bear. --But the French, Monsieur le Count, added I (wishing to soften what I had said), have so many excellences, they can the better spare this;--they area loyal, a gallant, a generous, an ingenious, and good temper'dpeople as is under heaven;--if they have a fault--they are tooSERIOUS. 

Mon Dieu! cried the Count, rising out of his chair. 

Mais vous plaisantez, said he, correcting his exclamation. --I laidmy hand upon my breast, and with earnest gravity assured him it wasmy most settled opinion. 

The Count said he was mortified he could not stay to hear myreasons, being engaged to go that moment to dine with the Duc de C-. 

But if it is not too far to come to Versailles to eat your soupwith me, I beg, before you leave France, I may have the pleasure ofknowing you retract your opinion, --or, in what manner you supportit. --But, if you do support it, Monsieur Anglois, said he, you mustdo it with all your powers, because you have the whole worldagainst you. --I promised the Count I would do myself the honour ofdining with him before I set out for Italy;--so took my leave. 

THE TEMPTATION. PARIS. 

When I alighted at the hotel, the porter told me a young woman witha bandbox had been that moment enquiring for me. --I do not know, said the porter, whether she is gone away or not. I took the keyof my chamber of him, and went upstairs; and when I had got withinten steps of the top of the landing before my door, I met hercoming easily down. 

It was the fair fille de chambre I had walked along the Quai deConti with; Madame de R- had sent her upon some commission to amarchande des modes within a step or two of the Hotel de Modene;and as I had fail'd in waiting upon her, had bid her enquire if Ihad left Paris; and if so, whether I had not left a letteraddressed to her. 

As the fair fille de chambre was so near my door, she returnedback, and went into the room with me for a moment or two whilst Iwrote a card. 

It was a fine still evening in the latter end of the month of May, --the crimson window curtains (which were of the same colour asthose of the bed) were drawn close: --the sun was setting, andreflected through them so warm a tint into the fair fille dechambre's face, --I thought she blush'd;--the idea of it made meblush myself: --we were quite alone; and that superinduced a secondblush before the first could get off. 

There is a sort of a pleasing half guilty blush, where the blood ismore in fault than the man: --'tis sent impetuous from the heart, and virtue flies after it, --not to call it back, but to make thesensation of it more delicious to the nerves: --'tis associated. -

But I'll not describe it;--I felt something at first within mewhich was not in strict unison with the lesson of virtue I hadgiven her the night before. --I sought five minutes for a card;--Iknew I had not one. --I took up a pen. --I laid it down again;--myhand trembled: --the devil was in me. 

I know as well as any one he is an adversary, whom, if we resist, he will fly from us;--but I seldom resist him at all; from aterror, though I may conquer, I may still get a hurt in thecombat;--so I give up the triumph for security; and, instead ofthinking to make him fly, I generally fly myself. 

The fair fille de chambre came close up to the bureau where I waslooking for a card--took up first the pen I cast down, then offer'dto hold me the ink; she offer'd it so sweetly, I was going toaccept it;--but I durst not;--I have nothing, my dear, said I, towrite upon. --Write it, said she, simply, upon anything. -

I was just going to cry out, Then I will write it, fair girl! uponthy lips. -

If I do, said I, I shall perish;--so I took her by the hand, andled her to the door, and begg'd she would not forget the lesson Ihad given her. --She said, indeed she would not;--and, as sheuttered it with some earnestness, she turn'd about, and gave meboth her hands, closed together, into mine;--it was impossible notto compress them in that situation;--I wish'd to let them go; andall the time I held them, I kept arguing within myself against it, --and still I held them on. --In two minutes I found I had all thebattle to fight over again;--and I felt my legs and every limbabout me tremble at the idea. 

The foot of the bed was within a yard and a half of the place wherewe were standing. --I had still hold of her hands--and how ithappened I can give no account; but I neither ask'd her--nor drewher--nor did I think of the bed;--but so it did happen, we both satdown. 

I'll just show you, said the fair fille de chambre, the littlepurse I have been making to-day to hold your crown. So she put herhand into her right pocket, which was next me, and felt for it sometime--then into the left. --"She had lost it. "--I never boreexpectation more quietly;--it was in her right pocket at last;--shepull'd it out; it was of green taffeta, lined with a little bit ofwhite quilted satin, and just big enough to hold the crown: sheput it into my hand;--it was pretty; and I held it ten minutes withthe back of my hand resting upon her lap--looking sometimes at thepurse, sometimes on one side of it. 

A stitch or two had broke out in the gathers of my stock; the fairfille de chambre, without saying a word, took out her littlehousewife, threaded a small needle, and sew'd it up. --I foresaw itwould hazard the glory of the day; and, as she pass'd her hand insilence across and across my neck in the manoeuvre, I felt thelaurels shake which fancy had wreath'd about my head. 

A strap had given way in her walk, and the buckle of her shoe wasjust falling off. --See, said the fille de chambre, holding up herfoot. --I could not, for my soul but fasten the buckle in return, and putting in the strap, --and lifting up the other foot with it, when I had done, to see both were right, --in doing it too suddenly, it unavoidably threw the fair fille de chambre off her centre, --andthen -

THE CONQUEST. 

Yes, --and then -. Ye whose clay-cold heads and luke-warm heartscan argue down or mask your passions, tell me, what trespass is itthat man should have them? or how his spirit stands answerable tothe Father of spirits but for his conduct under them?

If Nature has so wove her web of kindness, that some threads oflove and desire are entangled with the piece, --must the whole webbe rent in drawing them out?--Whip me such stoics, great Governorof Nature! said I to myself: --wherever thy providence shall placeme for the trials of my virtue;--whatever is my danger, --whateveris my situation, --let me feel the movements which rise out of it, and which belong to me as a man, --and, if I govern them as a goodone, I will trust the issues to thy justice; for thou hast made us, and not we ourselves. 

As I finished my address, I raised the fair fille de chambre up bythe hand, and led her out of the room: --she stood by me till Ilocked the door and put the key in my pocket, --and then, --thevictory being quite decisive--and not till then, I press'd my lipsto her cheek, and taking her by the hand again, led her safe to thegate of the hotel. 

THE MYSTERY. PARIS. 

If a man knows the heart, he will know it was impossible to go backinstantly to my chamber;--it was touching a cold key with a flatthird to it upon the close of a piece of music, which had call'dforth my affections: --therefore, when I let go the hand of thefille de chambre, I remained at the gate of the hotel for sometime, looking at every one who pass'd by, --and forming conjecturesupon them, till my attention got fix'd upon a single object whichconfounded all kind of reasoning upon him. 

It was a tall figure of a philosophic, serious, adust look, whichpassed and repass'd sedately along the street, making a turn ofabout sixty paces on each side of the gate of the hotel;--the manwas about fifty-two--had a small cane under his arm--was dress'd ina dark drab-colour'd coat, waistcoat, and breeches, which seem'd tohave seen some years service: --they were still clean, and therewas a little air of frugal proprete throughout him. By his pullingoff his hat, and his attitude of accosting a good many in his way, I saw he was asking charity: so I got a sous or two out of mypocket ready to give him, as he took me in his turn. --He pass'd byme without asking anything--and yet did not go five steps furtherbefore he ask'd charity of a little woman. --I was much more likelyto have given of the two. --He had scarce done with the woman, whenhe pull'd off his hat to another who was coming the same way. --Anancient gentleman came slowly--and, after him, a young smart one. --He let them both pass, and ask'd nothing. I stood observing himhalf an hour, in which time he had made a dozen turns backwards andforwards, and found that he invariably pursued the same plan. 

There were two things very singular in this, which set my brain towork, and to no purpose: --the first was, why the man should ONLYtell his story to the sex;--and, secondly, --what kind of story itwas, and what species of eloquence it could be, which soften'd thehearts of the women, which he knew 'twas to no purpose to practiseupon the men. 

There were two other circumstances, which entangled this mystery;--the one was, he told every woman what he had to say in her ear, andin a way which had much more the air of a secret than a petition;--the other was, it was always successful. --He never stopp'd a woman, but she pull'd out her purse, and immediately gave him something. 

I could form no system to explain the phenomenon. 

I had got a riddle to amuse me for the rest of the evening; so Iwalk'd upstairs to my chamber. 

THE CASE OF CONSCIENCE. PARIS. 

I was immediately followed up by the master of the hotel, who cameinto my room to tell me I must provide lodgings elsewhere. --How so, friend? said I. --He answered, I had had a young woman lock'd upwith me two hours that evening in my bedchamber, and 'twas againstthe rules of his house. --Very well, said I, we'll all part friendsthen, --for the girl is no worse, --and I am no worse, --and you willbe just as I found you. --It was enough, he said, to overthrow thecredit of his hotel. --Voyez vous, Monsieur, said he, pointing tothe foot of the bed we had been sitting upon. --I own it hadsomething of the appearance of an evidence; but my pride notsuffering me to enter into any detail of the case, I exhorted himto let his soul sleep in peace, as I resolved to let mine do thatnight, and that I would discharge what I owed him at breakfast. 

I should not have minded, Monsieur, said he, if you had had twentygirls--'Tis a score more, replied I, interrupting him, than I everreckon'd upon--Provided, added he, it had been but in a morning. --And does the difference of the time of the day at Paris make adifference in the sin?--It made a difference, he said, in thescandal. --I like a good distinction in my heart; and cannot say Iwas intolerably out of temper with the man. --I own it is necessary, resumed the master of the hotel, that a stranger at Paris shouldhave the opportunities presented to him of buying lace and silkstockings and ruffles, et tout cela;--and 'tis nothing if a womancomes with a band-box. --O, my conscience! said I, she had one but Inever look'd into it. --Then Monsieur, said he, has bought nothing?--Not one earthly thing, replied I. --Because, said he, I couldrecommend one to you who would use you en conscience. --But I mustsee her this night, said I. --He made me a low bow, and walk'd down. 

Now shall I triumph over this maitre d'hotel, cried I, --and whatthen? Then I shall let him see I know he is a dirty fellow. --Andwhat then? What then?--I was too near myself to say it was for thesake of others. --I had no good answer left;--there was more ofspleen than principle in my project, and I was sick of it beforethe execution. 

In a few minutes the grisette came in with her box of lace. --I'llbuy nothing, however, said I, within myself. 

The grisette would show me everything. --I was hard to please: shewould not seem to see it; she opened her little magazine, and laidall her laces one after another before me;--unfolded and foldedthem up again one by one with the most patient sweetness. --I mightbuy, --or not;--she would let me have everything at my own price: --the poor creature seem'd anxious to get a penny; and laid herselfout to win me, and not so much in a manner which seem'd artful, asin one I felt simple and caressing. 

If there is not a fund of honest gullibility in man, so much theworse;--my heart relented, and I gave up my second resolution asquietly as the first. --Why should I chastise one for the trespassof another? If thou art tributary to this tyrant of an host, thought I, looking up in her face, so much harder is thy bread. 

If I had not had more than four louis d'ors in my purse, there wasno such thing as rising up and showing her the door, till I hadfirst laid three of them out in a pair of ruffles. 

- The master of the hotel will share the profit with her;--nomatter, --then I have only paid as many a poor soul has PAID beforeme, for an act he COULD not do, or think of. 

THE RIDDLE. PARIS. 

When La Fleur came up to wait upon me at supper, he told me howsorry the master of the hotel was for his affront to me in biddingme change my lodgings. 

A man who values a good night's rest will not lie down with enmityin his heart, if he can help it. --So I bid La Fleur tell the masterof the hotel, that I was sorry on my side for the occasion I hadgiven him;--and you may tell him, if you will, La Fleur, added I, that if the young woman should call again, I shall not see her. 

This was a sacrifice not to him, but myself, having resolved, afterso narrow an escape, to run no more risks, but to leave Paris, ifit was possible, with all the virtue I enter'd it. 

C'est deroger a noblesse, Monsieur, said La Fleur, making me a bowdown to the ground as he said it. --Et encore, Monsieur, said he, may change his sentiments;--and if (par hazard) he should like toamuse himself, --I find no amusement in it, said I, interruptinghim. -

Mon Dieu! said La Fleur, --and took away. 

In an hour's time he came to put me to bed, and was more thancommonly officious: --something hung upon his lips to say to me, orask me, which he could not get off: I could not conceive what itwas, and indeed gave myself little trouble to find it out, as I hadanother riddle so much more interesting upon my mind, which wasthat of the man's asking charity before the door of the hotel. --Iwould have given anything to have got to the bottom of it; andthat, not out of curiosity, --'tis so low a principle of enquiry, ingeneral, I would not purchase the gratification of it with a two-sous piece;--but a secret, I thought, which so soon and socertainly soften'd the heart of every woman you came near, was asecret at least equal to the philosopher's stone; had I both theIndies, I would have given up one to have been master of it. 

I toss'd and turn'd it almost all night long in my brains to nomanner of purpose; and when I awoke in the morning, I found myspirits as much troubled with my dreams, as ever the King ofBabylon had been with his; and I will not hesitate to affirm, itwould have puzzled all the wise men of Paris as much as those ofChaldea to have given its interpretation. 

LE DIMANCHE. PARIS. 

It was Sunday; and when La Fleur came in, in the morning, with mycoffee and roll and butter, he had got himself so gallantlyarray'd, I scarce knew him. 

I had covenanted at Montreuil to give him a new hat with a silverbutton and loop, and four louis d'ors, pour s'adoniser, when we gotto Paris; and the poor fellow, to do him justice, had done wonderswith it. 

He had bought a bright, clean, good scarlet coat, and a pair ofbreeches of the same. --They were not a crown worse, he said, forthe wearing. --I wish'd him hang'd for telling me. --They look'd sofresh, that though I knew the thing could not be done, yet I wouldrather have imposed upon my fancy with thinking I had bought themnew for the fellow, than that they had come out of the Rue deFriperie. 

This is a nicety which makes not the heart sore at Paris. 

He had purchased, moreover, a handsome blue satin waistcoat, fancifully enough embroidered: --this was indeed something theworse for the service it had done, but 'twas clean scour'd;--thegold had been touch'd up, and upon the whole was rather showy thanotherwise;--and as the blue was not violent, it suited with thecoat and breeches very well: he had squeez'd out of the money, moreover, a new bag and a solitaire; and had insisted with thefripier upon a gold pair of garters to his breeches knees. --He hadpurchased muslin ruffles, bien brodees, with four livres of his ownmoney;--and a pair of white silk stockings for five more;--and totop all, nature had given him a handsome figure, without costinghim a sous. 

He entered the room thus set off, with his hair dressed in thefirst style, and with a handsome bouquet in his breast. --In a word, there was that look of festivity in everything about him, which atonce put me in mind it was Sunday;--and, by combining bothtogether, it instantly struck me, that the favour he wish'd to askof me the night before, was to spend the day as every body in Parisspent it besides. I had scarce made the conjecture, when La Fleur, with infinite humility, but with a look of trust, as if I shouldnot refuse him, begg'd I would grant him the day, pour faire legalant vis-a-vis de sa maitresse. 

Now it was the very thing I intended to do myself vis-a-vis Madamede R-. --I had retained the remise on purpose for it, and it wouldnot have mortified my vanity to have had a servant so well dress'das La Fleur was, to have got up behind it: I never could haveworse spared him. 

But we must FEEL, not argue in these embarrassments. --The sons anddaughters of Service part with liberty, but not with nature, intheir contracts; they are flesh and blood, and have their littlevanities and wishes in the midst of the house of bondage, as wellas their task-masters;--no doubt, they have set their self-denialsat a price, --and their expectations are so unreasonable, that Iwould often disappoint them, but that their condition puts it somuch in my power to do it. 

BEHOLD, --BEHOLD, I AM THY SERVANT--disarms me at once of the powersof a master. -

Thou shalt go, La Fleur! said I. 

- And what mistress, La Fleur, said I, canst thou have picked up inso little a time at Paris? La Fleur laid his hand upon his breast, and said 'twas a petite demoiselle, at Monsieur le Count de B-'s. --La Fleur had a heart made for society; and, to speak the truth ofhim, let as few occasions slip him as his master;--so that somehowor other, --but how, --heaven knows, --he had connected himself withthe demoiselle upon the landing of the staircase, during the time Iwas taken up with my passport; and as there was time enough for meto win the Count to my interest, La Fleur had contrived to make itdo to win the maid to his. The family, it seems, was to be atParis that day, and he had made a party with her, and two or threemore of the Count's household, upon the boulevards. 

Happy people! that once a week at least are sure to lay down allyour cares together, and dance and sing and sport away the weightsof grievance, which bow down the spirit of other nations to theearth. 

THE FRAGMENT. PARIS. 

La Fleur had left me something to amuse myself with for the daymore than I had bargain'd for, or could have enter'd either intohis head or mine. 

He had brought the little print of butter upon a currant leaf: andas the morning was warm, and he had a good step to bring it, he hadbegg'd a sheet of waste paper to put betwixt the currant leaf andhis hand. --As that was plate sufficient, I bade him lay it upon thetable as it was; and as I resolved to stay within all day, Iordered him to call upon the traiteur, to bespeak my dinner, andleave me to breakfast by myself. 

When I had finished the butter, I threw the currant-leaf out of thewindow, and was going to do the same by the waste paper;--butstopping to read a line first, and that drawing me on to a secondand third, --I thought it better worth; so I shut the window, anddrawing a chair up to it, I sat down to read it. 

It was in the old French of Rabelais's time, and for aught I knowmight have been wrote by him: --it was moreover in a Gothic letter, and that so faded and gone off by damps and length of time, it costme infinite trouble to make anything of it. --I threw it down; andthen wrote a letter to Eugenius;--then I took it up again, andembroiled my patience with it afresh;--and then to cure that, Iwrote a letter to Eliza. --Still it kept hold of me; and thedifficulty of understanding it increased but the desire. 

I got my dinner; and after I had enlightened my mind with a bottleof Burgundy; I at it again, --and, after two or three hours poringupon it, with almost as deep attention as ever Gruter or Jacob Spondid upon a nonsensical inscription, I thought I made sense of it;but to make sure of it, the best way, I imagined, was to turn itinto English, and see how it would look then;--so I went onleisurely, as a trifling man does, sometimes writing a sentence, --then taking a turn or two, --and then looking how the world went, out of the window; so that it was nine o'clock at night before Ihad done it. --I then began and read it as follows. 

THE FRAGMENT. PARIS. 

- Now, as the notary's wife disputed the point with the notary withtoo much heat, --I wish, said the notary, (throwing down theparchment) that there was another notary here only to set down andattest all this. -

- And what would you do then, Monsieur? said she, rising hastilyup. --The notary's wife was a little fume of a woman, and the notarythought it well to avoid a hurricane by a mild reply. --I would go, answered he, to bed. --You may go to the devil, answer'd thenotary's wife. 

Now there happening to be but one bed in the house, the other tworooms being unfurnished, as is the custom at Paris, and the notarynot caring to lie in the same bed with a woman who had but thatmoment sent him pell mell to the devil, went forth with his hat andcane and short cloak, the night being very windy, and walk'd out, ill at ease, towards the Pont Neuf. 

Of all the bridges which ever were built, the whole world who havepass'd over the Pont Neuf must own, that it is the noblest, --thefinest, --the grandest, --the lightest, --the longest, --the broadest, that ever conjoin'd land and land together upon the face of theterraqueous globe. 

[By this it seems as if the author of the fragment had not been aFrenchman. ]

The worst fault which divines and the doctors of the Sorbonne canallege against it is, that if there is but a capfull of wind in orabout Paris, 'tis more blasphemously sacre Dieu'd there than in anyother aperture of the whole city, --and with reason good and cogent, Messieurs; for it comes against you without crying garde d'eau, andwith such unpremeditable puffs, that of the few who cross it withtheir hats on, not one in fifty but hazards two livres and a half, which is its full worth. 

The poor notary, just as he was passing by the sentry, instinctively clapp'd his cane to the side of it, but in raising itup, the point of his cane catching hold of the loop of thesentinel's hat, hoisted it over the spikes of the ballustrade clearinto the Seine. -

- 'TIS AN ILL WIND, said a boatman, who catched it, WHICH BLOWSNOBODY ANY GOOD. 

The sentry, being a Gascon, incontinently twirled up his whiskers, and levell'd his arquebuss. 

Arquebusses in those days went off with matches; and an old woman'spaper lantern at the end of the bridge happening to be blown out, she had borrow'd the sentry's match to light it: --it gave amoment's time for the Gascon's blood to run cool, and turn theaccident better to his advantage. --'TIS AN ILL WIND, said he, catching off the notary's castor, and legitimating the capture withthe boatman's adage. 

The poor notary crossed the bridge, and passing along the Rue deDauphine into the fauxbourgs of St. Germain, lamented himself as hewalked along in this manner: -

Luckless man that I am! said the notary, to be the sport ofhurricanes all my days: --to be born to have the storm of illlanguage levell'd against me and my profession wherever I go; to beforced into marriage by the thunder of the church to a tempest of awoman;--to be driven forth out of my house by domestic winds, anddespoil'd of my castor by pontific ones!--to be here, bareheaded, in a windy night, at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of accidents!--Where am I to lay my head?--Miserable man! what wind in the two-and-thirty points of the whole compass can blow unto thee, as itdoes to the rest of thy fellow-creatures, good?

As the notary was passing on by a dark passage, complaining in thissort, a voice call'd out to a girl, to bid her run for the nextnotary. --Now the notary being the next, and availing himself of hissituation, walk'd up the passage to the door, and passing throughan old sort of a saloon, was usher'd into a large chamber, dismantled of everything but a long military pike, --a breastplate, --a rusty old sword, and bandoleer, hung up, equidistant, in fourdifferent places against the wall. 

An old personage who had heretofore been a gentleman, and unlessdecay of fortune taints the blood along with it, was a gentleman atthat time, lay supporting his head upon his hand in his bed; alittle table with a taper burning was set close beside it, andclose by the table was placed a chair: --the notary sat him down init; and pulling out his inkhorn and a sheet or two of paper whichhe had in his pocket, he placed them before him; and dipping hispen in his ink, and leaning his breast over the table, he disposedeverything to make the gentleman's last will and testament

Alas! Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, raising himself upa little, I have nothing to bequeath, which will pay the expense ofbequeathing, except the history of myself, which I could not die inpeace, unless I left it as a legacy to the world: the profitsarising out of it I bequeath to you for the pains of taking it fromme. --It is a story so uncommon, it must be read by all mankind;--itwill make the fortunes of your house. --The notary dipp'd his peninto his inkhorn. --Almighty Director of every event in my life!said the old gentleman, looking up earnestly, and raising his handstowards heaven, --Thou, whose hand has led me on through such alabyrinth of strange passages down into this scene of desolation, assist the decaying memory of an old, infirm, and broken-heartedman;--direct my tongue by the spirit of thy eternal truth, thatthis stranger may set down nought but what is written in that BOOK, from whose records, said he, clasping his hands together, I am tobe condemn'd or acquitted!--the notary held up the point of his penbetwixt the taper and his eye. -

It is a story, Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, which willrouse up every affection in nature;--it will kill the humane, andtouch the heart of Cruelty herself with pity. -

- The notary was inflamed with a desire to begin, and put his pen athird time into his ink-horn--and the old gentleman, turning alittle more towards the notary, began to dictate his story in thesewords: -

- And where is the rest of it, La Fleur? said I, as he just thenenter'd the room. 

THE FRAGMENT, AND THE BOUQUET. {1} PARIS. 

When La Fleur came up close to the table, and was made tocomprehend what I wanted, he told me there were only two othersheets of it, which he had wrapped round the stalks of a bouquet tokeep it together, which he had presented to the demoiselle upon theboulevards. --Then prithee, La Fleur, said I, step back to her tothe Count de B-'s hotel, and see if thou canst get it. --There is nodoubt of it, said La Fleur;--and away he flew. 

In a very little time the poor fellow came back quite out ofbreath, with deeper marks of disappointment in his looks than couldarise from the simple irreparability of the fragment. Juste Ciel!in less than two minutes that the poor fellow had taken his lasttender farewell of her--his faithless mistress had given his gaged'amour to one of the Count's footmen, --the footman to a youngsempstress, --and the sempstress to a fiddler, with my fragment atthe end of it. --Our misfortunes were involved together: --I gave asigh, --and La Fleur echoed it back again to my ear. 

- How perfidious! cried La Fleur. --How unlucky! said I. 

- I should not have been mortified, Monsieur, quoth La Fleur, ifshe had lost it. --Nor I, La Fleur, said I, had I found it. 

Whether I did or no will be seen hereafter. 

THE ACT OF CHARITY. PARIS. 

The man who either disdains or fears to walk up a dark entry may bean excellent good man, and fit for a hundred things, but he willnot do to make a good Sentimental Traveller. --I count little of themany things I see pass at broad noonday, in large and openstreets. --Nature is shy, and hates to act before spectators; but insuch an unobserved corner you sometimes see a single short scene ofhers worth all the sentiments of a dozen French plays compoundedtogether, --and yet they are absolutely fine;--and whenever I have amore brilliant affair upon my hands than common, as they suit apreacher just as well as a hero, I generally make my sermon out of'em;--and for the text, --"Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia andPamphylia, "--is as good as any one in the Bible. 

There is a long dark passage issuing out from the Opera Comiqueinto a narrow street; 'tis trod by a few who humbly wait for afiacre, {2} or wish to get off quietly o'foot when the opera isdone. At the end of it, towards the theatre, 'tis lighted by asmall candle, the light of which is almost lost before you gethalf-way down, but near the door--'tis more for ornament than use:you see it as a fixed star of the least magnitude; it burns, --butdoes little good to the world, that we know of. 

In returning along this passage, I discerned, as I approachedwithin five or six paces of the door, two ladies standing arm-in-arm with their backs against the wall, waiting, as I imagined, fora fiacre;--as they were next the door, I thought they had a priorright; so edged myself up within a yard or little more of them, andquietly took my stand. --I was in black, and scarce seen. 

The lady next me was a tall lean figure of a woman, of aboutthirty-six; the other of the same size and make, of about forty:there was no mark of wife or widow in any one part of either ofthem;--they seem'd to be two upright vestal sisters, unsapped bycaresses, unbroke in upon by tender salutations. --I could havewish'd to have made them happy: --their happiness was destin'd thatnight, to come from another quarter. 

A low voice, with a good turn of expression, and sweet cadence atthe end of it, begg'd for a twelve-sous piece betwixt them, for thelove of heaven. I thought it singular that a beggar should fix thequota of an alms--and that the sum should be twelve times as muchas what is usually given in the dark. --They both seemed astonishedat it as much as myself. --Twelve sous! said one. --A twelve-souspiece! said the other, --and made no reply. 

The poor man said, he knew not how to ask less of ladies of theirrank; and bow'd down his head to the ground. 

Poo! said they, --we have no money. 

The beggar remained silent for a moment or two, and renew'd hissupplication. 

- Do not, my fair young ladies, said he, stop your good earsagainst me. --Upon my word, honest man! said the younger, we have nochange. --Then God bless you, said the poor man, and multiply thosejoys which you can give to others without change!--I observed theelder sister put her hand into her pocket. --I'll see, said she, ifI have a sous. A sous! give twelve, said the supplicant; Naturehas been bountiful to you, be bountiful to a poor man. 

- I would friend, with all my heart, said the younger, if I had it. 

My fair charitable! said he, addressing himself to the elder, --whatis it but your goodness and humanity which makes your bright eyesso sweet, that they outshine the morning even in this dark passage?and what was it which made the Marquis de Santerre and his brothersay so much of you both as they just passed by?

The two ladies seemed much affected; and impulsively, at the sametime they both put their hands into their pocket, and each took outa twelve-sous piece. 

The contest betwixt them and the poor supplicant was no more;--itwas continued betwixt themselves, which of the two should give thetwelve-sous piece in charity;--and, to end the dispute, they bothgave it together, and the man went away. 

THE RIDDLE EXPLAINED. PARIS. 

I stepped hastily after him: it was the very man whose success inasking charity of the women before the door of the hotel had sopuzzled me;--and I found at once his secret, or at least the basisof it: --'twas flattery. 

Delicious essence! how refreshing art thou to Nature! how stronglyare all its powers and all its weaknesses on thy side! how sweetlydost thou mix with the blood, and help it through the mostdifficult and tortuous passages to the heart!

The poor man, as he was not straiten'd for time, had given it herein a larger dose: 'tis certain he had a way of bringing it into aless form, for the many sudden cases he had to do with in thestreets: but how he contrived to correct, sweeten, concentre, andqualify it, --I vex not my spirit with the enquiry;--it is enoughthe beggar gained two twelve-sous pieces--and they can best tellthe rest, who have gained much greater matters by it. 

PARIS. 

We get forwards in the world, not so much by doing services, asreceiving them; you take a withering twig, and put it in theground; and then you water it, because you have planted it. 

Monsieur le Count de B-, merely because he had done me one kindnessin the affair of my passport, would go on and do me another, thefew days he was at Paris, in making me known to a few people ofrank; and they were to present me to others, and so on. 

I had got master of my SECRET just in time to turn these honours tosome little account; otherwise, as is commonly the case, I shouldhave dined or supp'd a single time or two round, and then, byTRANSLATING French looks and attitudes into plain English, I shouldpresently have seen, that I had hold of the couvert {3} of somemore entertaining guest; and in course should have resigned all myplaces one after another, merely upon the principle that I couldnot keep them. --As it was, things did not go much amiss. 

I had the honour of being introduced to the old Marquis de B-: indays of yore he had signalized himself by some small feats ofchivalry in the Cour d'Amour, and had dress'd himself out to theidea of tilts and tournaments ever since. --The Marquis de B- wish'dto have it thought the affair was somewhere else than in his brain. "He could like to take a trip to England, " and asked much of theEnglish ladies. --Stay where you are, I beseech you, Monsieur leMarquis, said I. --Les Messieurs Anglois can scarce get a kind lookfrom them as it is. --The Marquis invited me to supper. 

Monsieur P-, the farmer-general, was just as inquisitive about ourtaxes. They were very considerable, he heard. --If we knew but howto collect them, said I, making him a low bow. 

I could never have been invited to Mons. P-'s concerts upon anyother terms. 

I had been misrepresented to Madame de Q- as an esprit. --Madame deQ- was an esprit herself: she burnt with impatience to see me, andhear me talk. I had not taken my seat, before I saw she did notcare a sous whether I had any wit or no;--I was let in, to beconvinced she had. I call heaven to witness I never once openedthe door of my lips. 

Madame de V- vow'd to every creature she met--"She had never had amore improving conversation with a man in her life. "

There are three epochas in the empire of a French woman. --She iscoquette, --then deist, --then devote: the empire during these isnever lost, --she only changes her subjects when thirty-five yearsand more have unpeopled her dominion of the slaves of love, she re-peoples it with slaves of infidelity, --and then with the slaves ofthe church. 

Madame de V- was vibrating betwixt the first of those epochas: thecolour of the rose was fading fast away;--she ought to have been adeist five years before the time I had the honour to pay my firstvisit. 

She placed me upon the same sofa with her, for the sake ofdisputing the point of religion more closely. --In short Madame deV- told me she believed nothing. --I told Madame de V- it might beher principle, but I was sure it could not be her interest to levelthe outworks, without which I could not conceive how such a citadelas hers could be defended;--that there was not a more dangerousthing in the world than for a beauty to be a deist;--that it was adebt I owed my creed not to conceal it from her;--that I had notbeen five minutes sat upon the sofa beside her, but I had begun toform designs;--and what is it, but the sentiments of religion, andthe persuasion they had excited in her breast, which could havecheck'd them as they rose up?

We are not adamant, said I, taking hold of her hand;--and there isneed of all restraints, till age in her own time steals in and laysthem on us. --But my dear lady, said I, kissing her hand, --'tis too--too soon. 

I declare I had the credit all over Paris of unperverting Madame deV-. --She affirmed to Monsieur D- and the Abbe M-, that in one halfhour I had said more for revealed religion, than all theirEncyclopaedia had said against it. --I was listed directly intoMadame de V-'s coterie;--and she put off the epocha of deism fortwo years. 

I remember it was in this coterie, in the middle of a discourse, inwhich I was showing the necessity of a FIRST cause, when the youngCount de Faineant took me by the hand to the farthest corner of theroom, to tell me my solitaire was pinn'd too straight about myneck. --It should be plus badinant, said the Count, looking downupon his own;--but a word, Monsieur Yorick, TO THE WISE -

And FROM THE WISE, Monsieur le Count, replied I, making him a bow, --IS ENOUGH. 

The Count de Faineant embraced me with more ardour than ever I wasembraced by mortal man. 

For three weeks together I was of every man's opinion I met. --Pardi! ce Monsieur Yorick a autant d'esprit que nous autres. --Ilraisonne bien, said another. --C'est un bon enfant, said a third. --And at this price I could have eaten and drank and been merry allthe days of my life at Paris; but 'twas a dishonest RECKONING;--Igrew ashamed of it. --It was the gain of a slave;--every sentimentof honour revolted against it;--the higher I got, the more was Iforced upon my BEGGARLY SYSTEM;--the better the coterie, --the morechildren of Art;--I languish'd for those of Nature: and one night, after a most vile prostitution of myself to half a dozen differentpeople, I grew sick, --went to bed;--order'd La Fleur to get mehorses in the morning to set out for Italy. 

MARIA. MOULINES. 

I never felt what the distress of plenty was in any one shape tillnow, --to travel it through the Bourbonnois, the sweetest part ofFrance, --in the heyday of the vintage, when Nature is pouring herabundance into every one's lap, and every eye is lifted up, --ajourney, through each step of which Music beats time to Labour, andall her children are rejoicing as they carry in their clusters: topass through this with my affections flying out, and kindling atevery group before me, --and every one of them was pregnant withadventures. -

Just heaven!--it would fill up twenty volumes;--and alas! I havebut a few small pages left of this to crowd it into, --and half ofthese must be taken up with the poor Maria my friend, Mr. Shandy, met with near Moulines. 

The story he had told of that disordered maid affected me not alittle in the reading; but when I got within the neighbourhoodwhere she lived, it returned so strong into the mind, that I couldnot resist an impulse which prompted me to go half a league out ofthe road, to the village where her parents dwelt, to enquire afterher. 

'Tis going, I own, like the Knight of the Woeful Countenance inquest of melancholy adventures. But I know not how it is, but I amnever so perfectly conscious of the existence of a soul within me, as when I am entangled in them. 

The old mother came to the door; her looks told me the story beforeshe open'd her mouth. --She had lost her husband; he had died, shesaid, of anguish, for the loss of Maria's senses, about a monthbefore. --She had feared at first, she added, that it would haveplunder'd her poor girl of what little understanding was left;--but, on the contrary, it had brought her more to herself: --still, she could not rest. --Her poor daughter, she said, crying, waswandering somewhere about the road. 

Why does my pulse beat languid as I write this? and what made LaFleur, whose heart seem'd only to be tuned to joy, to pass the backof his hand twice across his eyes, as the woman stood and told it?I beckoned to the postilion to turn back into the road. 

When we had got within half a league of Moulines, at a littleopening in the road leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Mariasitting under a poplar. She was sitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one side within her hand: --a small brookran at the foot of the tree. 

I bid the postilion go on with the chaise to Moulines--and La Fleurto bespeak my supper;--and that I would walk after him. 

She was dress'd in white, and much as my friend described her, except that her hair hung loose, which before was twisted within asilk net. --She had superadded likewise to her jacket, a pale greenriband, which fell across her shoulder to the waist; at the end ofwhich hung her pipe. --Her goat had been as faithless as her lover;and she had got a little dog in lieu of him, which she had kepttied by a string to her girdle: as I looked at her dog, she drewhim towards her with the string. --"Thou shalt not leave me, Sylvio, " said she. I look'd in Maria's eyes and saw she wasthinking more of her father than of her lover, or her little goat;for, as she utter'd them, the tears trickled down her cheeks. 

I sat down close by her; and Maria let me wipe them away as theyfell, with my handkerchief. --I then steep'd it in my own, --and thenin hers, --and then in mine, --and then I wip'd hers again;--and as Idid it, I felt such undescribable emotions within me, as I am surecould not be accounted for from any combinations of matter andmotion. 

I am positive I have a soul; nor can all the books with whichmaterialists have pester'd the world ever convince me to thecontrary. 

MARIA. 

When Maria had come a little to herself, I ask'd her if sheremembered a pale thin person of a man, who had sat down betwixther and her goat about two years before? She said she wasunsettled much at that time, but remembered it upon two accounts: --that ill as she was, she saw the person pitied her; and next, thather goat had stolen his handkerchief, and she had beat him for thetheft;--she had wash'd it, she said, in the brook, and kept it eversince in her pocket to restore it to him in case she should eversee him again, which, she added, he had half promised her. As shetold me this, she took the handkerchief out of her pocket to let mesee it; she had folded it up neatly in a couple of vine leaves, tied round with a tendril;--on opening it, I saw an S. Marked inone of the corners. 

She had since that, she told me, stray'd as far as Rome, and walk'dround St. Peter's once, --and return'd back;--that she found her wayalone across the Apennines;--had travell'd over all Lombardy, without money, --and through the flinty roads of Savoy withoutshoes: --how she had borne it, and how she had got supported, shecould not tell;--but GOD TEMPERS THE WIND, said Maria, TO THE SHORNLAMB. 

Shorn indeed! and to the quick, said I: and wast thou in my ownland, where I have a cottage, I would take thee to it, and shelterthee: thou shouldst eat of my own bread and drink of my own cup;--I would be kind to thy Sylvio;--in all thy weaknesses andwanderings I would seek after thee and bring thee back;--when thesun went down I would say my prayers: and when I had done thoushouldst play thy evening song upon thy pipe, nor would the incenseof my sacrifice be worse accepted for entering heaven along withthat of a broken heart!

Nature melted within me, as I utter'd this; and Maria observing, asI took out my handkerchief, that it was steep'd too much already tobe of use, would needs go wash it in the stream. --And where willyou dry it, Maria? said I. --I'll dry it in my bosom, said she: --'twill do me good. 

And is your heart still so warm, Maria? said I. 

I touch'd upon the string on which hung all her sorrows: --shelook'd with wistful disorder for some time in my face; and then, without saying any thing, took her pipe and play'd her service tothe Virgin. --The string I had touched ceased to vibrate;--in amoment or two Maria returned to herself, --let her pipe fall, --androse up. 

And where are you going, Maria? said I. --She said, to Moulines. --Let us go, said I, together. --Maria put her arm within mine, andlengthening the string, to let the dog follow, --in that order weenter'd Moulines. 

MARIA. MOULINES. 

Though I hate salutations and greetings in the market-place, yet, when we got into the middle of this, I stopp'd to take my last lookand last farewell of Maria. 

Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fineforms: --affliction had touched her looks with something that wasscarce earthly;--still she was feminine;--and so much was thereabout her of all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks for inwoman, that could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, andthose of Eliza out of mine, she should NOT ONLY EAT OF MY BREAD ANDDRINK OF MY OWN CUP, but Maria should lie in my bosom, and be untome as a daughter. 

Adieu, poor luckless maiden!--Imbibe the oil and wine which thecompassion of a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now poursinto thy wounds;--the Being, who has twice bruised thee, can onlybind them up for ever. 

THE BOURBONNNOIS. 

There was nothing from which I had painted out for my self sojoyous a riot of the affections, as in this journey in the vintage, through this part of France; but pressing through this gate, ofsorrow to it, my sufferings have totally unfitted me. In everyscene of festivity, I saw Maria in the background of the piece, sitting pensive under her poplar; and I had got almost to Lyonsbefore I was able to cast a shade across her. 

- Dear Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious inour joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr downupon his bed of straw--and 'tis thou who lift'st him up to Heaven!--Eternal Fountain of our feelings!--'tis here I trace thee--andthis is thy "DIVINITY WHICH STIRS WITHIN ME;"--not that, in somesad and sickening moments, "MY SOUL SHRINKS BACK UPON HERSELF, ANDSTARTLES AT DESTRUCTION;"--mere pomp of words!--but that I feelsome generous joys and generous cares beyond myself;--all comesfrom thee, great--great SENSORIUM of the world! which vibrates, ifa hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotestdesert of thy creation. --Touch'd with thee, Eugenius draws mycurtain when I languish--hears my tale of symptoms, and blames theweather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou giv'st a portion ofit sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakestmountains;--he finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock. --Thismoment I behold him leaning with his head against his crook, withpiteous inclination looking down upon it!--Oh! had I come onemoment sooner! it bleeds to death!--his gentle heart bleeds withit. -

Peace to thee, generous swain!--I see thou walkest off withanguish, --but thy joys shall balance it;--for, happy is thycottage, --and happy is the sharer of it, --and happy are the lambswhich sport about you!

THE SUPPER. 

A shoe coming loose from the fore foot of the thill-horse, at thebeginning of the ascent of mount Taurira, the postilion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket; as the ascent wasof five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made apoint of having the shoe fastened on again, as well as we could;but the postilion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in thechaise box being of no great use without them, I submitted to goon. 

He had not mounted half a mile higher, when, coming to a flintypiece of road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off hisother fore foot. I then got out of the chaise in good earnest; andseeing a house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with agreat deal to do I prevailed upon the postilion to turn up to it. The look of the house, and of every thing about it, as we drewnearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. --It was a little farm-house, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard, about asmuch corn;--and close to the house, on one side, was a potagerie ofan acre and a half, full of everything which could make plenty in aFrench peasant's house;--and, on the other side, was a little wood, which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was about eight in theevening when I got to the house--so I left the postilion to managehis point as he could;--and, for mine, I walked directly into thehouse. 

The family consisted of an old grey-headed man and his wife, withfive or six sons and sons-in-law, and their several wives, and ajoyous genealogy out of them. 

They were all sitting down together to their lentil-soup; a largewheaten loaf was in the middle of the table; and a flagon of wineat each end of it promised joy through the stages of the repast: --'twas a feast of love. 

The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordialitywould have me sit down at the table; my heart was set down themoment I enter'd the room; so I sat down at once like a son of thefamily; and to invest myself in the character as speedily as Icould, I instantly borrowed the old man's knife, and taking up theloaf, cut myself a hearty luncheon; and, as I did it, I saw atestimony in every eye, not only of an honest welcome, but of awelcome mix'd with thanks that I had not seem'd to doubt it. 

Was it this? or tell me, Nature, what else it was that made thismorsel so sweet, --and to what magic I owe it, that the draught Itook of their flagon was so delicious with it, that they remainupon my palate to this hour?

If the supper was to my taste, --the grace which followed it wasmuch more so. 

THE GRACE. 

When supper was over, the old man gave a knock upon the table withthe haft of his knife, to bid them prepare for the dance: themoment the signal was given, the women and girls ran altogetherinto a back apartment to tie up their hair, --and the young men tothe door to wash their faces, and change their sabots; and in threeminutes every soul was ready upon a little esplanade before thehouse to begin. --The old man and his wife came out last, andplacing me betwixt them, sat down upon a sofa of turf by the door. 

The old man had some fifty years ago been no mean performer uponthe vielle, --and at the age he was then of, touch'd it well enoughfor the purpose. His wife sung now and then a little to the tune, --then intermitted, --and join'd her old man again, as their childrenand grand-children danced before them. 

It was not till the middle of the second dance, when, from somepauses in the movements, wherein they all seemed to look up, Ifancied I could distinguish an elevation of spirit different fromthat which is the cause or the effect of simple jollity. In aword, I thought I beheld Religion mixing in the dance: --but, as Ihad never seen her so engaged, I should have look'd upon it now asone of the illusions of an imagination which is eternallymisleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance ended, said, that this was their constant way; and that all his life longhe had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out hisfamily to dance and rejoice; believing, he said, that a cheerfuland contented mind was the best sort of thanks to heaven that anilliterate peasant could pay, -

Or a learned prelate either, said I. 

THE CASE OF DELICACY. 

When you have gained the top of Mount Taurira, you run presentlydown to Lyons: --adieu, then, to all rapid movements! 'Tis ajourney of caution; and it fares better with sentiments, not to bein a hurry with them; so I contracted with a voiturin to take histime with a couple of mules, and convoy me in my own chaise safe toTurin, through Savoy. 

Poor, patient, quiet, honest people! fear not: your poverty, thetreasury of your simple virtues, will not be envied you by theworld, nor will your valleys be invaded by it. --Nature! in themidst of thy disorders, thou art still friendly to the scantinessthou hast created: with all thy great works about thee, littlehast thou left to give, either to the scythe or to the sickle;--butto that little thou grantest safety and protection; and sweet arethe dwellings which stand so shelter'd. 

Let the way-worn traveller vent his complaints upon the suddenturns and dangers of your roads, --your rocks, --your precipices;--the difficulties of getting up, --the horrors of getting down, --mountains impracticable, --and cataracts, which roll down greatstones from their summits, and block his road up. --The peasants hadbeen all day at work in removing a fragment of this kind betweenSt. Michael and Madane; and, by the time my voiturin got to theplace, it wanted full two hours of completing before a passagecould any how be gain'd: there was nothing but to wait withpatience;--'twas a wet and tempestuous night; so that by the delay, and that together, the voiturin found himself obliged to put upfive miles short of his stage at a little decent kind of an inn bythe roadside. 

I forthwith took possession of my bedchamber--got a good fire--order'd supper; and was thanking heaven it was no worse, when avoiture arrived with a lady in it and her servant maid. 

As there was no other bed-chamber in the house, the hostess, --without much nicety, led them into mine, telling them, as sheusher'd them in, that there was nobody in it but an Englishgentleman;--that there were two good beds in it, and a closetwithin the room which held another. The accent in which she spokeof this third bed, did not say much for it;--however, she saidthere were three beds and but three people, and she durst say, thegentleman would do anything to accommodate matters. --I left not thelady a moment to make a conjecture about it--so instantly made adeclaration that I would do anything in my power. 

As this did not amount to an absolute surrender of my bed-chamber, I still felt myself so much the proprietor, as to have a right todo the honours of it;--so I desired the lady to sit down, --pressedher into the warmest seat, --called for more wood, --desired thehostess to enlarge the plan of the supper, and to favour us withthe very best wine. 

The lady had scarce warm'd herself five minutes at the fire, beforeshe began to turn her head back, and give a look at the beds; andthe oftener she cast her eyes that way, the more they return'dperplexd;--I felt for her--and for myself: for in a few minutes, what by her looks, and the case itself, I found myself as muchembarrassed as it was possible the lady could be herself. 

That the beds we were to lie in were in one and the same room, wasenough simply by itself to have excited all this;--but the positionof them, for they stood parallel, and so very close to each otheras only to allow space for a small wicker chair betwixt them, rendered the affair still more oppressive to us;--they were fixedup moreover near the fire; and the projection of the chimney on oneside, and a large beam which cross'd the room on the other, formeda kind of recess for them that was no way favourable to the nicetyof our sensations: --if anything could have added to it, it wasthat the two beds were both of them so very small, as to cut us offfrom every idea of the lady and the maid lying together; which ineither of them, could it have been feasible, my lying beside them, though a thing not to be wish'd, yet there was nothing in it soterrible which the imagination might not have pass'd over withouttorment. 

As for the little room within, it offer'd little or no consolationto us: 'twas a damp, cold closet, with a half dismantled window-shutter, and with a window which had neither glass nor oil paper init to keep out the tempest of the night. I did not endeavour tostifle my cough when the lady gave a peep into it; so it reducedthe case in course to this alternative--That the lady shouldsacrifice her health to her feelings, and take up with the closetherself, and abandon the bed next mine to her maid, --or that thegirl should take the closet, &c. , &c. 

The lady was a Piedmontese of about thirty, with a glow of healthin her cheeks. The maid was a Lyonoise of twenty, and as brisk andlively a French girl as ever moved. --There were difficulties everyway, --and the obstacle of the stone in the road, which brought usinto the distress, great as it appeared whilst the peasants wereremoving it, was but a pebble to what lay in our ways now. --I haveonly to add, that it did not lessen the weight which hung upon ourspirits, that we were both too delicate to communicate what we feltto each other upon the occasion. 

We sat down to supper; and had we not had more generous wine to itthan a little inn in Savoy could have furnish'd, our tongues hadbeen tied up, till necessity herself had set them at liberty;--butthe lady having a few bottles of Burgundy in her voiture, sent downher fille de chambre for a couple of them; so that by the timesupper was over, and we were left alone, we felt ourselves inspiredwith a strength of mind sufficient to talk, at least, withoutreserve upon our situation. We turn'd it every way, and debatedand considered it in all kinds of lights in the course of a twohours' negotiation; at the end of which the articles were settledfinally betwixt us, and stipulated for in form and manner of atreaty of peace, --and I believe with as much religion and goodfaith on both sides as in any treaty which has yet had the honourof being handed down to posterity. 

They were as follow: -

First, as the right of the bed-chamber is in Monsieur, --and hethinking the bed next to the fire to be the warmest, he insistsupon the concession on the lady's side of taking up with it. 

Granted, on the part of Madame; with a proviso, That as thecurtains of that bed are of a flimsy transparent cotton, and appearlikewise too scanty to draw close, that the fille de chambre shallfasten up the opening, either by corking pins, or needle andthread, in such manner as shall be deem'd a sufficient barrier onthe side of Monsieur. 

2dly. It is required on the part of Madame, that Monsieur shalllie the whole night through in his robe de chambre. 

Rejected: inasmuch as Monsieur is not worth a robe de chambre; hehaving nothing in his portmanteau but six shirts and a black silkpair of breeches. 

The mentioning the silk pair of breeches made an entire change ofthe article, --for the breeches were accepted as an equivalent forthe robe de chambre; and so it was stipulated and agreed upon, thatI should lie in my black silk breeches all night. 

3dly. It was insisted upon and stipulated for by the lady, thatafter Monsieur was got to bed, and the candle and fireextinguished, that Monsieur should not speak one single word thewhole night. 

Granted; provided Monsieur's saying his prayers might not be deemedan infraction of the treaty. 

There was but one point forgot in this treaty, and that was themanner in which the lady and myself should be obliged to undressand get to bed;--there was but one way of doing it, and that Ileave to the reader to devise; protesting as I do it, that if it isnot the most delicate in nature, 'tis the fault of his ownimagination, --against which this is not my first complaint. 

Now, when we were got to bed, whether it was the novelty of thesituation, or what it was, I know not; but so it was, I could notshut my eyes; I tried this side, and that, and turn'd and turn'dagain, till a full hour after midnight; when Nature and patienceboth wearing out, --O, my God! said I. 

- You have broke the treaty, Monsieur, said the lady, who had nomore slept than myself. --I begg'd a thousand pardons--but insistedit was no more than an ejaculation. She maintained 'twas an entireinfraction of the treaty--I maintained it was provided for in theclause of the third article. 

The lady would by no means give up her point, though she weaken'dher barrier by it; for in the warmth of the dispute, I could heartwo or three corking pins fall out of the curtain to the ground. 

Upon my word and honour, Madame, said I, --stretching my arm out ofbed by way of asseveration. -

(I was going to have added, that I would not have trespassedagainst the remotest idea of decorum for the world); -

But the fille de chambre hearing there were words between us, andfearing that hostilities would ensue in course, had crept silentlyout of her closet, and it being totally dark, had stolen so closeto our beds, that she had got herself into the narrow passage whichseparated them, and had advanced so far up as to be in a linebetwixt her mistress and me: -

So that when I stretch'd out my hand I caught hold of the fille dechambre's -

Footnotes:

{1} Nosegay. 

{2} Hackney coach. 

{3} Plate, napkin, knife, fork and spoon.