_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_
_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_,
_Fauxbourg St. Germain_
After abundance of jolting in carriages, sea sickness, and such-like
trifling accidents, incidental to us travellers, here we are at last,
dear Louisa. My very first demand has been for pen ink and paper, to
inform my kind friend of our safe arrival: though I am so giddy, after
this post haste four day's hurry, that I scarcely can write a straight
line. Neither do I know whether I have any thing to say; though I
seemed to myself to have acquired an additional stock of ideas, at the
very moment that I first beheld Calais and the coast of France.
What is there, my dear, in the human mind, that induces us to think
every thing which is unusual is little less than absurd? Is it
prejudice, is it vanity, or is it a short and imperfect view; a want of
discrimination? I could have laughed, but that I had some latent sense
of my own folly, at the sight of a dozen French men and women, and two
or three loitering monks, whom curiosity had drawn together upon the
pier-head, to see us come into port. And what was my incitement to
laughter?--It was the different cut of a coat. It was a silk bag, in
which the hair was tied, an old sword, and a dangling pair of ruffles;
which none of them suited with the poverty of the dress, and meagre
appearance, of a person who seemed to strut and value himself upon such
marks of distinction.
Sterne was in my pocket, and his gentle spirit was present to my mind.
Perhaps the person who thus excited a transient emotion of risibility
was a nobleman. For the extremes of riches and of poverty are, as I
have been informed, very frequent among the nobility of France. He
might happen to think himself a man highly unfortunate and aggrieved.
The supposition occasioned my smile to evaporate in a sigh.
But the houses!--They were differently built!--Could that be right?
They were not so clean! That was certainly wrong. In what strange land
is the standard of propriety erected?--Then the blue and brown jackets
of the women; their undaunted manner of staring; their want of hats,
and stays; the slovenly look of slippers not drawn up at the heel; the
clumsy wooden shoes of some, and the bare feet of others; nay their
readiness to laugh at the uncouth appearance of the people who were
condemning them for being ridiculous; what could all this be? But how
came I so unaccountably to forget that children and beggars sometimes
go barefoot in England; and that few people, perhaps, are more addicted
to stare and laugh at strangers than ourselves? Oh! But the French are
so polite a nation that even the common people are all well bred; and
would enter a drawing-room with more ease and grace than an English
gentleman!--Have you never heard this nonsense, Louisa?
The character of nations, or rather of mind, is apparent in trifles.
Granted. Let us turn our eyes back to the shores we have so lately
left: let us examine the trifles we hang about ourselves. How many of
them, which characterize and as it were stamp the nation with
absurdity, escape unobserved! We see them every day; we have adopted
and made them our own, and we should be strangely offended, should any
person take the liberty, having discovered the folly of them, to laugh
at us.
I wrote thus far last night; but learning, on enquiry, that Tuesdays
and Fridays are foreign post days, I left off; being rather indisposed
after my journey. 'Tis only a swimming in the head, which will soon
leave me; though I find it has returned upon me occasionally all the
morning. But to my pleasing task; again let me prattle to my friend.
The innkeepers of Calais come themselves, or send their waiters, to
watch for and invite passengers to their houses; and will not be
dismissed without difficulty. The most daring endeavour to secure
customers, by seizing on some of their trunks, or baggage. But we had
determined to go to Dessein's, and the active Frank soon made way for
us.
I was amused with the handbill, stuck up against the walls of this inn,
or hotel, as it is called; announcing it to be the largest, the
completest, the most magnificent, with a thousand et caeteras, in the
universe; and recounting not only its numerous accommodations, but the
multifarious trades which it contained within its own walls; to all
which was added a playhouse. A playhouse it is true there was, but no
players; and as for trades, there were at least as many as we wanted.
Sir Arthur took over his own carriage; otherwise this first of inns in
the universe would not have furnished him with one, but on condition of
its being purchased.
Sir Arthur observed it was strange that the French innkeepers should
not yet have discovered it to be their interest to keep carriages for
travellers, as in England. To which Frank Henley shrewdly answered,
that the book of post roads, in his hand, informed him government was
in reality every where the inn-keeper; and reserved to itself the
profits of posting. And the deepest thinkers, added Frank, inform us
that every thing in which governments interfere is spoiled. I remarked
to him that this principle would lead us a great way. Yes, said he, but
not too far: and, playing upon my words, added, it would lead us back
to the right way, from which we appear at present to have strayed, into
the very labyrinth of folly and blunders.
Frank is earnestly studious of the effects of governments, and laws;
and reads the authors who have written best on such subjects with great
attention, and pleasure. He and Sir Arthur by no means agree, in
politics; and Sir Arthur has two or three times been half affronted,
that a man so young and so inferior to himself, as he supposes Frank to
be, should venture to be of a different opinion, and dispute with him;
who was once in his life too a member of parliament. I am obliged now
and then slily to remind him of the highwayman and Turnham Green.
And now, Louisa, traveller like, could I regale you with a melancholy
narrative, relating how the fields in this country have no hedges; how
the cows are as meagre as their keepers; how wretched the huts and
their owners appear; how French postillions jump in and out of
jack-boots, with their shoes on, because they are too heavy to drag
after them; how they harness their horses with ropes; how dexterously
they crack the merciless whips with which they belabour the poor hacks
they drive; how we were obliged to pay for five of these hacks, having
only four in our carriage, and two of them frequently blind, lame, or
useless; with many other items, that might be grievous to hear, could I
but persuade myself thoroughly to pity or be angry at the whole French
nation, for not exactly resembling the English. But do they themselves
complain? Mercy on us! Complain?--Nothing is so grateful to their
hearts, as the praise of that dear country, which English travellers
are so prone to despise!
Frank as usual has been all attention, all ardour, all anxiety, to
render our journey as pleasant as possible. His efforts have been
chiefly directed to me; my ease, my satisfaction, my enjoyment, have
been his continual care. Not that he has neglected or overlooked Sir
Arthur. He overlooks no living creature, to whom he can give aid. He
loses no opportunity of gaining the esteem and affection of high and
low, rich and poor. His delicacy never slumbers. His thirst of doing
good is never assuaged. I am young it is true, but I never before met a
youth so deserving. Think of him myself I must not; though I would give
kingdoms, if I had them, to see him completely happy.
And now, dear Louisa, I am soon to meet your brother. Why do I seem to
recollect this with a kind of agitation? Is there rebellion in my
heart? Would it swerve from the severe dictates of duty? No. I will set
too strict a watch over its emotions. What! Does not Louisa honour me
with the title of friend, and shall I prove unworthy of her friendship?
Forbid it emulation, truth, and virtue!
How happy should I be were your brother and Frank Henley to conceive an
immediate partiality for each other! How much too would it promote the
project I wish to execute! I have been taxing my invention to form some
little plot for this purpose, but I find it barren. I can do nothing
but determine to speak of Frank as he deserves; which surely will gain
him the love of the whole world. And for his part, I know how ready he
will be to give merit its due.
I have more than once purposely mentioned your brother's name to Sir
Arthur, when Frank was present; in some manner to prepare and guard him
against surprise. But I could not but remark my hints had an effect
upon him that betrayed how much his heart was alarmed. He thinks too
favourably, and I fear too frequently of me. What can be done? The
wisest of us are the slaves of circumstances, and of the prejudices of
others. How many excellent qualities are met in him! And for these to
be rejected--! Alas!--We must patiently submit to the awful laws of
necessity.
Neither is Sir Arthur without his fears and suspicions. His discourse
betrays his alarms. He cannot conceive that a love of the merits of
Frank can be distinct from all love of his person. The crime of
disobedience in children, the ruin of families by foolish and unequal
marriages, and the wretchedness which is the result of such guilty
conduct, have been hinted at more than once lately; and though not with
many words, yet with a degree of anxiety that gave me pain, for it
taught me, being suspected, half to suspect myself.
But I must conclude: my travelling vertigo I find is not immediately to
be shaken off. I imagine that a few hours calm sleep will be my best
physician. Adieu. I shall wait, with some impatience, for a letter from
my dear Louisa.