_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_
_Paris, Hotel de l'Université_
The assiduity of Clifton, my dear Louisa, is so great that we already
seem to be acquaintance of seven years standing. This is evidently his
intention. His temper is eager, impatient of delay, quick in resolving,
and, if I do not mistake, sometimes precipitate. But his intellectual
powers are of a very high order. His wit is keen, his invention strong,
his language flowing and elegant, and his ideas and figures remarkable,
sometimes for their humour, and at others for their splendour. His
prejudices are many of them deep; nor are they few; but he speaks them
frankly, defends them boldly, and courts rather than shuns discussion.
What then may not be hoped from a mind like his? Ought such a mind to
be neglected? No!--No!--Eternally no!--I have already given a strong
hint of this to Frank.
I am persuaded that, since you saw him, he is greatly improved in
person. The regularity of his features, his florid complexion, tall
stature, and the facility and grace of all his motions, are with him no
common advantages.
He has attached himself exceedingly to us, and has induced Sir Arthur
to take apartments in the _Hotel de l'Université_, where he resides
himself, and where the accommodations are much better, the situation
more agreeable, and the rooms more spacious.
A little incident happened, when we removed, which was characteristic
of the manners of the people, and drew forth a pleasing trait of the
acuteness of Clifton, and of his turn of thinking.
One of the men who helped us with our luggage, after being paid
according to agreement, asked, as is very customary with these people,
for _quelque chose pour boire_; which Sir Arthur, not being very expert
in the French idiom, understood literally. He accordingly ordered a
bottle of the light common wine, and being thirsty poured some into a
tumbler and drank himself first, then poured out some more, and offered
the porter.
The man took the glass as Sir Arthur held it out to him; and, with some
surprise and evident sense of insult in his countenance, said to Sir
Arthur--_à moi, monsieur_? To which Sir Arthur, perfectly at a loss to
comprehend his meaning, made no answer; and the man; without tasting
the liquor, set the glass down on a bench in the yard.
Clifton, well acquainted with the manners of the people, and knowing
the man imagined Sir Arthur meant to insult him, by giving him the same
glass out of which he had drunken, with great alacrity took it up the
moment the man had set it down, and said--_Non, mon ami, c'est à
moi_--and drank off the wine. He then called for another tumbler, and
filling it gave it to the man.
The French are a people of active and lively feelings; and the poor
fellow, after receiving the glass from Clifton, took up the other empty
tumbler, poured the wine back into it, said in his own language forgive
me, sir; I see I am in the wrong; and immediately drank out of the
tumbler which he had before refused.
Each country you perceive, Louisa, has its own ideas of delicacy. The
French think it very strange to see two people drink out of the same
vessel. Not however that I suppose every porter in Paris would refuse
wine, if offered, for the same reason. Neither would they all with the
same sensibility be so ready to retract.
The good humour as well as the good sense of Clifton's reproof pleased
me highly; and we must all acknowledge him our superior, in the art of
easily conforming to the customs of foreigners, and in readily
pardoning even their absurdities. For foreigners, Louisa, have their
absurdities, as well as ourselves.
But I have not yet done. I have another anecdote to relate of Clifton,
from which I augur still more.
I had observed our Thomas in conversation with a man, who from his
dress and talking to Thomas I knew must be an Englishman; and the care
which it becomes me to take, that such well-meaning but simple people
should not be deceived, led me to inquire who he was. Thomas began to
stammer; not with guilt, but with a desire of telling a story which he
knew not how to tell so well as he wished. At last we understood from
him it was a young English lad, who had neither money, meat, nor work,
and who was in danger of starving, because he could find no means of
returning to his own country. Poor Thomas finding himself among a kind
of heathens, as he calls the French, pitied his case very sincerely,
and had supplied him with food for some days, promising that he would
soon take an opportunity of speaking to me, whom he is pleased to call
the best young lady in the world; and I assure you, Louisa, I am proud
of his good word.
Your brother heard this account, and immediately said--[For indeed I
wished to know what his feelings were, and therefore did not offer to
interrupt him.] 'Desire him to come up. Let me question him. If he be
really what he says, he ought to be relieved: but he is very likely
some idle fellow, who being English makes a trade of watching for
English families, and living upon this tale.' So far said I to myself,
Clifton, all is right. I therefore let him proceed. The lad came up,
for he was not twenty, and your brother began his interrogations.
You are an English lad, you say?
Yes, sir.
Where do you come from?
Wolverhampton.
What is your trade?
A buckle plater.
And did you serve out your apprenticeship?
No.
How so?
My master and I quarrelled, he struck me, I beat him, and was obliged
to run away.
Where did you run to?
I went to London. I have an aunt there, a poor woman, who chairs for
gentlefolks, and I went to her.
How came you here?
She got me a place, with a young gentleman who was going on his
travels. I had been among horses before I was bound 'prentice, and he
hired me as his groom.
But how came you to leave him?
He is a very passionate gentleman. He has got a French footman, who
stands and shrugs, and lets him give him thumps, and kicks; and one
morning, because one boot was brighter than t'other, he was going to
horsewhip me. So I told him to keep his hands off, or I would knock him
down.
Why you are quite a fighting fellow.
No, sir; I never fought with any body in my life, if they did not first
meddle with me.
So you quarrelled with your master, beat him, ran away from your
apprenticeship, got a place, came into a foreign country, and then,
because your master did not happen to please you, threatened to knock
him down!
The poor fellow was quite confounded, and I was half out of breath from
an apprehension that Clifton had taken the wrong side of the question.
But I was soon relieved--This tale is too artless to be false, said he,
turning to me.--You cannot conceive, Louisa, the infinite pleasure
which these few words gave me--I still continued silent, and watching,
not the lad, but your brother.
So you never meddle with any body who does not meddle with you?
No, sir, I would scorn it.
But you will not be horsewhipped?
No, sir, I won't; starve or not starve.
I need not ask you if you are honest, sober, and industrious; for I
know you will say you are.
Why should I not, sir?
You have nobody to give you a character, have you?
My master is still in Paris; but to be sure he will give me a bad one.
Can you tell me his address--where he lives?