_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_
_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_,
_Fauxbourg St. Germain_
You cannot imagine, honest Aby, the surprise I am in. Is this their
famous France? Is this the finest country in the whole world? Why, Aby,
from Boulogne to Paris, at least from Montreuil, I am certain I did not
see a single hedge! All one dead flat; with an eternal row of trees,
without beginning, middle, or end. I sincerely believe, Aby, I shall
never love a straight row of trees again. And the wearisome right lined
road, that you never lose sight of; not for a moment, Aby! No lucky
turning. No intervening hill.
Oh that I were but the Grand Monarch! What improvements would I make!
What a scope for invention, Aby! A kingdom! A revenue of four hundred
millions of livres, and a standing army of three hundred thousand men!
All which, if the king were a wise man, it is very evident, Abimelech,
he might employ in improvements; and heaven knows there is a want of
them. What are their petty corvées, by which these straight roads have
been patched up, and their everlasting elms planted? I would assemble
all my vassals--[Your son Frank, Aby, has given me much information
concerning the present governments of Europe, and the origin of manors,
fiefs, and lordships. I can assure you he is a very deep young man;
though I could wish he were not quite so peremptory and positive; and
has informed me of some things which I never heard of before, though I
am twice his age. But he seems to have them so fast at his finger's
ends that I suppose they must be true. I had often heard of entails,
and mortmain, and lands held in fee or fief, I don't know which, and
all that you know, Abimelech. One's deeds and one's lawyers tell one
something, blindly, of these matters; but I never knew how it had all
happened. He told me that--Egad I forget what he told me. But I know he
made it all out very clear. Still I must say he is cursed
positive.]--However, Aby, as I was saying, I would assemble all my
vassals, all my great lords and fief holders, and they should assemble
their vassals, and all hands should be set to work: some to plan,
others to plant; some to grub, some to dig, some to hoe, and some to
sow. The whole country should soon be a garden! Tell me, Aby, is not
the project a grand one[1]? What a dispatch of work! What a change of
nature! I am ravished with the thought!
[Footnote 1: The plan is in reality much grander than the good knight
suspected; if embraced at the will of a nation, instead of at the will
of an individual.]
As for any ideas of improvement to be picked up here, Abimelech, they
must not be expected. I shall never forget the sameness of the scene!
So unlike the riches of Wenbourne-Hill! Sir Alexander would have a
country open enough here, at least. He would not complain of being shut
in. The wind may blow from what point it pleases, and you have it on
all sides. Except the road-side elms I mentioned, and now and then a
coppice, which places they tell me are planted for the preservation of
the game, I should have supposed there had not been a tree in the
country; had I not been told that there were many large forests, to the
right, and the left, out of sight. For my part I don't know where they
have hidden them, and so must take their word for the fact. 'Tis true
indeed that we travelled a part of the way in the dark.
I was mentioning the game, Aby. The game laws here are excellently put
in execution. Hares are as plenty as rabbits in a warren, partridges as
tame as our dove-house pigeons, and pheasants that seem as if they
would come and feed out of your hand. For no scoundrel poacher dare
molest them. If he did, I am not certain whether the lord of the manor
could not hang him up instantly without judge or jury.
Though Frank tells me they have no juries here; which by the bye is odd
enough; and as he says I suppose it is a great shame. For, as he put
the case to me, how should I like, to have my estate seized on, by some
insolent prince or duke? For you know, I being a baronet in my own
right, Aby, no one less in rank would dare infringe upon me. Well! How
should I like to have this duke, or this prince, seize upon my estate;
and, instead of having my right tried by a special jury of my peers, to
have the cause decided by him who can get the prettiest woman to plead
for him, and who will pay her and his judges the best? For such Frank
assures me is the mode here! Now really all this is very bad; very bad
indeed, and as he says wants reforming.
But as for the game laws, as I was saying, Aby, they are excellently
enforced; and your poor rascals here are kept in very proper
subjection. They are held to the grindstone, as I may say. And so they
ought to be, Aby. For, I have often heard you say, what is a man but
what he is worth? Which in certain respects is very true. A gentleman
of family and fortune, why he is a gentleman; and no insolent beggar
ought to dare to look him in the face, without his permission. But you,
Aby, had always a very great sense of propriety, in these respects. And
you have found your advantage in it; as indeed you ought. It is a pity,
considering what a learned young man you have made your son, that you
did not teach him a little of your good sense in this particular. He is
too full of contradiction: too confident by half.
Let me have a long and full and whole account of what you are doing,
Aby. Tell me precisely how forward your work is, and the exact spot
where you are when each letter comes away. I know I need not caution
you to keep those idle fellows, the day labourers, to it. I never knew
any man who worked them better. And yet, Aby, it is surprising the sums
that they have cost me; but you are a very careful honest fellow; and
they have done wonders, under my planning and your inspection.
I do not wish that the moment I receive a letter it should be known to
every lacquey; especially here; where it seems to be one entire city of
babblers. The people appear to have nothing to do but to talk. In the
house, in the street, in the fields, breakfast, dinner, and supper,
walking, sitting, or standing, they are never silent. Nay egad I doubt
whether they do not talk in their sleep! So do you direct to me at the
Café Conti--However I had better write the direction for you at full
length, for fear of a mistake. And be sure you take care of your
spelling, Aby, or I don't know what may happen. For I am told that many
of these French people are devilish illiterate, and I am sure they are
devilish cunning. Snap! They answer before they hear you! And, what is
odd enough, their answers are sometimes as pat as if they knew your
meaning. Indeed I have often thought it strange that your low poor
people should be so acute, and have so much common sense. But do you
direct your letters thus--
_A Monsieur Monsieur le Chevalier de St. Ives, Baronet Anglois,
an Café Conti, vis-à-vis le Pont Neuf, Quai Conti, à Paris._