In visiting the French capital, many Englishmen are led into an
error. They imagine that a few letters of recommendation will be the
means of procuring them admission into other houses besides those of
the persons to whom these letters are addressed. But, on their
arrival in Paris, they will find themselves mistaken. The houses of
the _great_ are difficult of access, and those of the secondary class
scarcely open with more ease than they did before the revolution. If
proper attention be paid to all the letters which a stranger brings,
he may be satisfied; though the persons to whom he is recommended,
seldom think of taking him to the residence of any of their friends.
Therefore, an English traveller, who wishes to mix much in French
society, should provide himself with as many letters of
recommendation as he can possibly obtain; unless, indeed, he has a
celebrated name, which, in all countries, is the best introduction;
for curiosity prompts the higher classes to see and examine the man
who bears it. The doors of every house will be open to him, when they
are shut against other strangers, and he may soon establish an
intimacy in the first circles. To those who possess not that
advantage, a Frenchman may be induced to offer a dinner, or two,
perhaps, and return them a few formal visits. He will profess more
than he performs. In a word, he will be polite, but not familiar and
friendly.
An Englishman, thus circumstanced, finding that he gains no ground,
and is treated with a sort of ceremony, will probably seek other
company, dine at the _restaurateurs'_, frequent the _spectacles_, and
visit the impures: for such was the life our countrymen, in general,
led in Paris before the revolution. Public amusements may, perhaps,
make him amends for the want of private society. As, from their
astonishing number, they may be varied without end, he may contrive
to pass away his evenings. His mornings will, at first, be employed,
no doubt, in visiting public curiosities; but, after he has
repeatedly surveyed these scenes of attraction, he will fail in what
ought to be the grand object of foreign travel, and return home
without having acquired a competent knowledge of the manners of the
country. He ought therefore to husband proper French acquaintances,
and keep up a constant intercourse with them, or he will run a risk
of finding himself insulated. Should indisposition confine him to the
house for a few days, every one to whom he has been recommended, will
suppose him gone, he will no longer be thought of; _ennui_ will take
possession of him, and, cursing France, he will wish himself safely
landed on the shore of Old England.
If this is the case with an Englishman who brings letters to Paris,
what must be the situation of one who visits this capital entirely
unprovided in that respect? The banker on whom he has a letter of
credit, may invite him to a dinner, at which are assembled twenty
persons, to all of whom he is a perfect stranger. Without friends,
without acquaintances, he will find himself like a man dropped from
the clouds, amidst six or seven hundred thousand persons, driving or
walking about in pursuit of their affairs or pleasures. For want of a
proper clue to direct him, he is continually in danger of falling
into the most detestable company; and the temptations to pleasure are
so numerous and so inviting in this gay city, that it requires more
fortitude than falls to the lot of many to resist them. Consequently,
an untravelled foreigner cannot be too much on his guard in Paris;
for it will require every exertion of his prudence and discrimination
to avoid being duped and cheated. Above all, he should shun those
insinuating and subtle characters who, dexterous in administering
that delicious essence which mixes so sweetly with the blood, are
ever ready to shew him the curiosities, and introduce him into
coteries, which they will represent as respectable, and in which the
mistress of the house and her daughters will, probably, conspire to
lighten his pocket, and afterwards laugh at his credulity.
As to the reception which the English are likely to meet with here
after the ratification of the definitive treaty, (if I may be
permitted to judge from personal experience and observation) I think
it will, in a great measure, depend on themselves. Therefore, should
any of our countrymen complain of being treated here with less
attention now than before the revolution, it will, on candid
investigation, prove to be their own fault. The essential difference
will be found to consist in the respect paid to the man, not, as
formerly, in proportion to his money, but to his social worth. The
French seem now to make a distinction between individuals only, not
between nations. Whence it results that, _cæteris paribus_, the
foreigner who possesses most the talent of making himself agreeable
in society, will here be the most welcome. Not but, in general, they
will shew greater indulgence to an Englishman, and be inclined to
overlook in him that which they would consider as highly unpardonable
in a stranger of any other country.
On such occasions, their most usual exclamation is "_Les Anglais sont
des gens bien extraordinaires! Ma foi! ils sont inconcevables!_" And,
indeed, many Englishmen appear to glory in justifying the idea, and
_astonishing the natives_ by the eccentricity of their behaviour. But
these _originals_ should recollect that what may be tolerated in a
man of superior talent, is ridiculous, if not contemptible, in one
undistinguished by such a pretension; and that, by thus _posting_
their absurdities to the eyes of a foreign nation, they leave behind
them an impression which operates as a real injury in regard to their
more rational countrymen. Another circumstance deserves no less
animadversion.
In their first essay of foreign travel, our British youths generally
carry with them too ample a share of national prepossession and
presumption. Accustomed at home to bear down all before them by the
weight of their purse, they are too apt to imagine that, by means of
a plentiful provision of gold, they may lord it over the continent,
from Naples to Petersburg; and that a profuse expenditure of money
supersedes the necessity of a compliance with established forms and
regulations. Instead of making their applications and inquiries in a
proper manner, so as to claim due attention, they more frequently
demand as a right what they should rather receive as a favour.
Finding themselves disappointed in their vain conclusions, their
temper is soured; and, being too proud to retract their error, or
even observe a prudent silence, they deal out their impertinence and
abuse in proportion to the number of guineas which they may be able
to squander. Of course, they cannot but view the peculiar habits and
customs of all foreign nations with a jaundiced eye, never reflecting
that in most countries are to be found, either in a moral or a
physical sense, advantages and disadvantages in which others are
deficient. _Le_ POUR _et le_ CONTRE, as a well-known traveller
observes, _se trouvent en chaque nation_. The grand desideratum is to
acquire by travel a knowledge of this POUR _et/i> CONTRE, which, by
emancipating us from our prejudices, teaches us mutual toleration
--for, of every species of tyranny, that which is exercised on things
indifferent in themselves, is the most intolerable. Hence it is less
difficult to deprive a nation of its laws than to change its habits.
[Footnote 1: When assignats were in circulation, a single _course en
fiacre_ sometimes cost 600 livres, which was at the rate of 10 livres
per minute. But this will not appear extraordinary, when it is known
that the depreciation of that paper-currency was such that, at one
time, 18,000 livres in assignats could be procured for a single
_louis d'or_.]
[Footnote 2: A cabriolet is a kind of one-horse chaise, with a
standing head, and inclosed in front by a wooden flap, in lieu of one
of leather. Behind, there is a place for a footman.]