Ten years ago I had the honour to be admitted often to the table of a Lady of the first rank. On _St. Ann's-day_, (that being her name-day) she received the visits of her friends, who all brought either a valuable present, a poesy, or a compliment in verse: when the dessert came upon the table, which was very magnificent, the middle plate seemed to be the finest and fairest fruit (_peaches_) and I was much surprized, that none of the Ladies, were helped by the gentlemen from _that_ plate: but my surprize was soon turned into astonishment! for the peaches suddenly burst forth, and played up the Saint's name, (_St.

Ann_) in artificial fire-works! and many pretty devices of the same kind, were whirled off, from behind the coaches of her visitors, to which they were fixed, as the company left the house, which had a pretty effect, and was no indelicate way of _taking a French leave_.

There is certainly among the French people of fashion an ease and good-breeding, which is very captivating, and not easily obtained, but by being bred up with them, from an early age; the whole body must be formed for it, as in dancing, while there is the pliability of youth; and where there is, as in France, a constant, early, and intimate correspondence between the two s.e.xes. Men would be fierce and savage, were it not for the society of the other s.e.x, as may be seen among the Turks and Moors, who must not visit their own wives, when other men's wives are with them. In France, the Lady's bed-chamber is always open, and she receives visits in bed, or up, with perfect ease. A n.o.ble Lord, late amba.s.sador to this country, told me, that when he visited a young and beautiful woman of fashion, (I think too it was a first visit after marriage) she received him sitting up in her bed; and before he went, her _fille de chambre_ brought his Lordship _Madame le Comtesse_'s shift elegantly festooned, which his Lordship had the honour to put over the Lady's head, as she sat in bed!--nor was there, by that favour, the least indecency meant; it was a compliment intended; and, as such only, received. Marks of favour of _that_ sort, are not marks of _further favours_ from a French Lady.

In this vast city of amus.e.m.e.nts, among the _other arts_, I cannot help pointing out to your particular notice, _Richlieu_'s monument in the _Sorbonne_, as an inimitable piece of modern sculpture[G] by _Girardeau_; and _Madame la Valliere's_ full-length portrait by _le Brun_: She was, you know, mistress to _Lewis_ the XIVth, but retired to the convent, in which the picture now is, and where she lived in repentance and sorrow above thirty years.[H]

[G] VOLTAIRE says, this monument is not sufficiently noticed by strangers.

[H] MADAME VALLIERE, during her retirement, being told of the death of one of her sons, replied, "I should rather grieve for his birth, than his death."

The _connoisseurs_ surely can find no reasonable fault with the monumental artist; but they do, I think, with _le Brun_; the drapery, they say, is too full, and that she is overcharged with garments; but fulness of dress, adds not only dignity, but decency, to the person of a fine woman, who meant (or the painter for her) to hide, not to expose her charms.

If fulness be a fault, it is a fault that _Gainsborough_, _h.o.a.re_, _Pine_, _Reynolds_, and many other of our modern geniuses are _guilty of_; and if it be _sin_, the best judges will acquit them for committing it, where dignity is to be considered.

_Madame Valliere_ appears to have been scattering about her jewels, is tearing her hair, crying, and looking up to the heavens, which seem bursting forth a tempest over her head. The picture is well imagined, and finely executed.

I found upon the bulk of a _portable shop_ in _Paris_, a most excellent engraving from this picture,[I] and which carried me directly to visit the original; it is indeed stained and dirty, but it is infinitely superior to a later engraving which now hangs up in all the print shops, and I suppose is from the first plate, which was done soon after the picture was finished. Under it are written the following ingenious, tho'

I fear, rather impious lines:

Magdala dam gemmas, baccisque monile corusc.u.m Projicit, ac formae detrahit arma suae: Dum vultum lacrymis et lumina turbat; amoris Mirare insidias! hac capit arte Deum.

[I] In the possession of Mr. GAINSBOROUGH.

Shall I attempt to unfold this writer's meaning? Yes, I will, that my friend at _Oxford_ may laugh, and do it as it ought to be done.

I.

The pearls and gems, her beauty's arms, See sad VALLIERE foregoes; And now a.s.sumes far other charms Superior still to those.

II.

The tears that flow adown her cheek, Than gems are brighter things; For these an earthly Monarch seek, But those the KING of Kings.

This seems to have been the author's thought, if he thought _chastely_.--Shall I try again?

The pearls and gems her beauty's arms, See sad VALLIERE foregoes: Yet still those tears have other charms, Superior far to those: With those she gained an earthly Monarch's love: With these she wins the KING of Kings above.

Yet, after all, I do suspect, that the author meant more than even _to sneer_ a little at _poor Madam Valliere_; but, as I dislike common-place poetry, (and poetry, as you see, dislikes _me_) I will endeavour to give you the literal meaning, according to my conception, and then you will see whether our _joint wits_ jump together.

While MAGDALENE throws by her bracelets, adorned with gems and pearls, and (thus) disarms her beauty: while tears confound her countenance and eyes,

With wonder mark the stratagems of love, With this she captivates the G.o.d above.

The impious insinuation of the Latin lines, is the reason, I suppose, why they were omitted under the more modern impression of this fine print, and very middling French poetry superseding them.

LETTER LIII.

PARIS.

If you do not use _Herreis_' bills, I recommend to you at _Paris_, a French, rather than an English banker; I have found the former more profitable, and most convenient. I had, ten years since, a letter of credit on _Sir John Lambert_, for 300, from _Mess. h.o.a.res_. The _Knight_ thought proper, however, to refuse the payment of a twenty pound draft I gave upon him; though I had not drawn more than half my credit out of his hands. _Mons. Mary_, on whom I had a draft from the same respectable house, this year will not do _such things_; but on the contrary, be ready to serve and oblige strangers to the utmost of his power: he speaks and writes English very well, and will prove an agreeable and useful acquaintance to a stranger in _Paris_. His sister too, who lives with him, will be no less so to the female part of your family. His house is in _Rue Saint Sauveur_.

The English bankers pay in silver, and it is necessary to take a wheel-barrow with you to bring it away; a small bag will do at the French bankers'.

There is as much difference between the bankers of _London_ and bankers in _Paris_, as between a rotten apple and a sound one. You can hardly get a word from a London banker, but you are sure of getting your money; in _Paris_, you will get _words_ enough, and civil ones too. Remember, however, I am speaking only of the treatment I have experienced. There may be, and are, no doubt, English bankers at _Paris_ of great worth, and respectable characters.

It is not reckoned very decent to frequent coffee-houses at _Paris_; but the politeness of _Monsieur_ and _Madame Felix, au caffe de Conti_, opposite the _Pont neuf_, and the English news-papers, render their house a pleasant circ.u.mstance to me; and it is by much the best, and best situated, of any in _Paris, au vois le monde_.

I am astonished, that where such an infinite number of people live in so small a compa.s.s, (for _Paris_ is by no means so large as _London_) that they should suffer the dead to be buried in the manner they do, or within the city. There are several burial pits in _Paris_, of a prodigious size and depth, in which the dead bodies are laid, side by side, without any earth being put over them till the ground tier is full; then, and not till then, a small layer of earth covers them, and another layer of dead comes on, till by layer upon layer, and dead upon dead, the hole is filled with a ma.s.s of human corruption, enough to breed a plague; these places are enclosed, it is true, within high walls; but nevertheless, the air cannot be _improved_ by it; and the idea of such an a.s.semblage of putrifying bodies, in one grave, so thinly covered, is very disagreeable. The burials in churches too, often prove fatal to the priests and people who attend; but every body, and every thing in _Paris_, is so much alive, that not a soul thinks about the dead.

I wish I had been born a Frenchman.--Frenchmen live as if they were never to die. Englishmen die all _their lives_; and yet as _Lewis_ the XIVth said, "I don't think it is so difficult a matter to die, as men generally imagine, when they try in earnest."

I must tell you before I leave _Paris_, that I stept over to _Marli_, to see the Queen; I had seen the King nine years ago; but he was not then a King over eight millions of people, and the finest country under the sun; yet he does not seem to lay so much stress upon his mighty power as might be expected from so young a prince, but appears grave and thoughtful. I am told he attends much to business, and endeavours to make his subjects happy. His resolution to be inoculated, immediately after succeeding to such a kingdom, is a proof of his having a great share of fort.i.tude. In England such a determination would have been looked upon with indifference; but in France, where the bulk of the people do not believe that it secures the patient from a second attack; where the clergy in general consider it unfavourable, even in a religious light; and where the physical people, for want of practice, do not understand the management of the distemper, so as it is known in England; I may venture to say, without being charged with flattery, that it was an heroic resolution: add to this, the King knowing, that if his subjects followed his example, it must be chiefly done by their own surgeons and physicians, he put himself under their management alone, though I think _Sutton_ was then at _Paris_.

The Queen is a fine figure, handsome, and very sprightly, dresses in the present _gout_ of head dress, and without a handkerchief, and thereby displays a most lovely neck.

I saw in a china shop at _Paris_, the figure of the King and Queen finely executed, and very like, in china: the King is playing on the harp, and the Queen dropping her work to listen to the harmony. The two figures, about a foot high, were placed in an elegant apartment, and the _toute ensemble_ was the prettiest toy I ever beheld: the price thirty guineas.

I shall leave this town in a few days, and take the well-known and well-beaten _route Anglois_ for _Calais_, thro' _Chantilly_, _Amiens_, and _Boulogne_, and then I shall have twice crossed this mighty kingdom.

LETTER LIV.

CALAIS.

I am now returned to the point from whence I sat out, and rather within the revolution of one year; which, upon the whole, though I met with many untoward circ.u.mstances, has been the most interesting and entertaining year of my whole life, and will afford me matter of reflection for the little which remains unfinished of that journey we must all take sooner or later, a journey from whence no traveller returns.--And having said so much of myself, I am sure you will be glad to change the subject from man to beast, especially to such a one as I have now to speak of.

I told you, when I set out, that I had bought a handsome-looking English horse for seven guineas, but a little touched in his wind; I can now inform you, that when I left this town, he was rather thin, and had a sore back and shoulder; both which, by care and caution; were soon healed, and that he is returned fair and fat, and not a hair out of its place, though he drew two grown persons, two children, (one of thirteen the other ten years old) a very heavy French cabriolet, and all our baggage, nay, almost all my goods, chattels, and worldly property whatever, outward and homeward, except between _Cette_ and _Barcelona_, _going_, and _Lyons_ and this town _returning!_ I will point out to you one of his day's work, by which you will be able to judge of his general power of working: At _Perpignan_, I had, to save him, hired post-horses to the first town in Spain, as I thought it might be too much for him to ascend and descend the _Pyrenees_ in one day; beside sixteen miles to the foot of them, on this side, and three to _Jonquire_ on the other; but after the horses were put to, the post-master required me to take two men to _Boulou_, in order to hold the chaise, and to prevent its overturning in crossing the river near the village. Such a flagrant attempt to impose, determined me to take neither horses nor men; and at seven o'clock I set off with _Callee_ (that is my houyhnhnm's name) and arrived in three hours at _Boulou_, a paltry village, but in a situation fit for the palace of AUGUSTUS!

So far from wanting men from _Perpignan_ to conduct my chaise over the river, the whole village were, upon our arrival, in motion after the JOB. We, however, pa.s.sed it, without any a.s.sistance but our own weight to keep the wheels down, and the horse's strength and st.u.r.diness, to drag us through it. In about three hours more we pa.s.sed over the summit of this great chain of the universe; and in two more, arrived at _Jonquire_: near which village my horse had a little bait of fresh mown hay, the first, and last, he eat in that kingdom. And when I tell you that this faithful, and (for a great part of my journey) only servant I had, never made a _faux pas_, never was so tired, but that upon a pinch, he could have gone a league or two farther; nor ever was ill, lame, physicked, or bled, since he was mine; you will agree, that either he is an uncommon good horse, or that his master is a good groom! Indeed I will say that, however fatigued, wet, hundry, or droughty I was, I never partook of any refreshment till my horse had every comfort the inn could afford. I carried a wooden bowl to give him water, and never pa.s.sed a brook without asking him to drink.--And, as he has been my faithful servant, I am now his; for he lives under the same roof with me, and does nothing but eat, drink, and sleep.--As he never sees me nor hears my voice, without taking some affectionate notice of me, I ventured to ask him _tenderly_, whether he thought he should be able to draw two of the same party next year to _Rome?_ No tongue could more plainly express his willingness! he answered me, _in French_, indeed, _we-we-we-we-we_, said he; so perhaps he might not be sincere, tho' he never yet deceived me. If, however, he should not go, or should out-live me, which, is very probable, my dying request to you will be, to procure him a peaceful walk for the remainder of his days, within the park-walls of some humane private gentleman; though I flatter myself the following pet.i.tion will save _you_ that trouble, and _me_ the concern of leaving him without that comfort which his faithful services merit.

_To_ SIR JAMES TYLNEY LONG, _Bart._

_A Faithful Servant's humble Pet.i.tion_,

SHEWETH,

That your pet.i.tioner entered into the service of his present master, at an advanced age, and at a time too, that he laboured under a pulmonic disorder, deemed incurable; yet by gentle exercise, wholesome food, and kind usage, he has been enabled to accompany his master from _Calais_ to _Artois_. _Cambray_, _Rheims_, _St. Dezier_, _Dijon_, _Challons_, _Macon_, _Lyons_, _Pont St. Esprit_, _Pont du Garde_, _Nismes_, _Montpellier_, _Cette_, _Narbonne_, _Perpignan_ the _Pyrenees_ _Barcelona_, _Montserrat_, _Arles_, _Ma.r.s.eilles_, _Toulouse_, _Avignon_, _Aix_, _Valence_, _Paris_, and back to _Calais_, in the course of one year: And that your pet.i.tioner has acquitted himself so much to his master's satisfaction, that he has promised to take him next year to _Rome_; and upon his return, to get him a _sine-cure_ place for the remainder of his days; and, as your pet.i.tioner can produce a certificate of his honesty, sobriety, steadiness, and obedience to his master; and wishes to throw himself under the protection of a man of fortune, honour and humanity, he is encouraged by his said master to make this his humble prayer to you, who says that to above three hundred letters he has lately written, to ask a small boon for himself, he did not receive above three answers that gave him the pleasure your's did though he had twenty times better pretensions to an hundred and fifty. And as your pet.i.tioner has _seen a great deal of the world, as well as his master_, and has always observed, that such men who are kind to their fellow-creatures, are kind also to brutes; permit an humble brute to throw himself at your feet, and to ask upon his return from _Rome_ a _lean-to_ shed, under your park-wall, that he may end his days in his native country, and afford a _repas_, at his death, to the dogs of a Man who feeds the poor, cloaths the naked, and who knows how to make use of the n.o.blest privilege which a large fortune can bestow,--that of softening the calamities of mankind, and making glad the hearts of those who are oppressed with misfortunes.--Your pet.i.tioner, therefore, who has never, been upon his _knees before_ to any man living, humbly prays that he may be admitted within your park-pail, and that he may partake of that bounty which you bestow in common to your own servants, who, by age or misfortunes are past their labour; in which request your pet.i.tioner's master impowers him to use his name and joint prayer with