A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy Read online

  - Now was I the master of this hôtel, said I, laying the point of my forefinger on Mons. Dessein’s breast, I would inevitably make a point of getting rid of this unfortunate désobligeant; - it stands swinging reproaches at you every time you pass by it.

  Mon Dieu! said Mons. Dessein, - I have no interest - Except the interest, said I, which men of a certain turn of mind take, Mons. Dessein, in their own sensations, - I’m persuaded, to a man who feels for others as well as for himself, every rainy night, disguise it as you will, must cast a damp upon your spirits: - You suffer, Mons. Dessein, as much as the machine -

  I have always observed, when there is as much sour as sweet in a compliment, that an Englishman is eternally at a loss within himself, whether to take it, or let it alone: a Frenchman never is: Mons. Dessein made me a bow.

  C’est bien vrai, said he. - But in this case I should only exchange one disquietude for another, and with loss: figure to yourself, my dear Sir, that in giving you a chaise which would fall to pieces before you had got half-way to Paris, - figure to yourself how much I should suffer, in giving an ill impression of myself to a man of honour, and lying at the mercy, as I must do, d’un homme d’esprit.

  The dose was made up exactly after my own prescription; so I could not help tasting it, - and, returning Mons. Dessein his bow, without more casuistry we walk’d together towards his Remise, to take a view of his magazine of chaises.

  IN THE STREET. CALAIS.

  It must needs be a hostile kind of a world, when the buyer (if it be but of a sorry post-chaise) cannot go forth with the seller thereof into the street to terminate the difference betwixt them, but he instantly falls into the same frame of mind, and views his conventionist with the same sort of eye, as if he was going along with him to Hyde-park corner to fight a duel. For my own part, being but a poor swordsman, and no way a match for Monsieur Dessein, I felt the rotation of all the movements within me, to which the situation is incident; - I looked at Monsieur Dessein through and through - eyed him as he walk’d along in profile, - then, en face; - thought like a Jew, - then a Turk, - disliked his wig, - cursed him by my gods, - wished him at the devil. -

  - And is all this to be lighted up in the heart for a beggarly account of three or four louis d’ors, which is the most I can be overreached in? - Base passion! said I, turning myself about, as a man naturally does upon a sudden reverse of sentiment, - base, ungentle passion! thy hand is against every man, and every man’s hand against thee. - Heaven forbid! said she, raising her hand up to her forehead, for I had turned full in front upon the lady whom I had seen in conference with the monk: - she had followed us unperceived. - Heaven forbid, indeed! said I, offering her my own; - she had a black pair of silk gloves, open only at the thumb and two forefingers, so accepted it without reserve, - and I led her up to the door of the Remise.

  Monsieur Dessein had diabled the key above fifty times before he had found out he had come with a wrong one in his hand: we were as impatient as himself to have it opened; and so attentive to the obstacle that I continued holding her hand almost without knowing it: so that Monsieur Dessein left us together with her hand in mine, and with our faces turned towards the door of the Remise, and said he would be back in five minutes.

  Now a colloquy of five minutes, in such a situation, is worth one of as many ages, with your faces turned towards the street: in the latter case, ’tis drawn from the objects and occurrences without; - when your eyes are fixed upon a dead blank, - you draw purely from yourselves. A silence of a single moment upon Mons. Dessein’s leaving us, had been fatal to the situation - she had infallibly turned about; - so I begun the conversation instantly. -

  - But what were the temptations (as I write not to apologize for the weaknesses of my heart in this tour, - but to give an account of them) - shall be described with the same simplicity with which I felt them.

  THE REMISE DOOR. CALAIS.

  When I told the reader that I did not care to get out of the désobligeant, because I saw the monk in close conference with a lady just arrived at the inn - I told him the truth, - but I did not tell him the whole truth; for I was as full as much restrained by the appearance and figure of the lady he was talking to. Suspicion crossed my brain and said, he was telling her what had passed: something jarred upon it within me, - I wished him at his convent.

  When the heart flies out before the understanding, it saves the judgment a world of pains. - I was certain she was of a better order of beings; - however, I thought no more of her, but went on and wrote my preface.

  The impression returned upon my encounter with her in the street; a guarded frankness with which she gave me her hand, showed, I thought, her good education and her good sense; and as I led her on, I felt a pleasurable ductility about her, which spread a calmness over all my spirits -

  - Good God! how a man might lead such a creature as this round the world with him! -

  I had not yet seen her face - ’twas not material: for the drawing was instantly set about, and long before we had got to the door of the Remise, Fancy had finished the whole head, and pleased herself as much with its fitting her goddess, as if she had dived into the Tiber for it; - but thou art a seduced, and a seducing slut; and albeit thou cheatest us seven times a day with thy pictures and images, yet with so many charms dost thou do it, and thou deckest out thy pictures in the shapes of so many angels of light, ’tis a shame to break with thee.

  When we had got to the door of the Remise, she withdrew her hand from across her forehead, and let me see the original: - it was a face of about six-and-twenty, - of a clear transparent brown, simply set off without rouge or powder; - it was not critically handsome, but there was that in it, which, in the frame of mind I was in, attached me much more to it, - it was interesting: I fancied it wore the characters of a widow’d look, and in that state of its declension, which had passed the two first paroxysms of sorrow, and was quietly beginning to reconcile itself to its loss; - but a thousand other distresses might have traced the same lines; I wish’d to know what they had been - and was ready to inquire, (had the same bon ton of conversation permitted, as in the days of Esdras) - “What ailelh thee? and why art thou disquieted? and why is thy understanding troubled?” - In a word, I felt benevolence for her; and resolv’d some way or other to throw in my mite of courtesy, - if not of service.

  Such were my temptations; - and in this disposition to give way to them, was I left alone with the lady with her hand in mine, and with our faces both turned closer to the door of the Remise than what was absolutely necessary.

  THE REMISE DOOR. CALAIS.

  This certainly, fair lady, said I, raising her hand up little lightly as I began, must be one of Fortune’s whimsical doings; to take two utter strangers by their hands, - of different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe, and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation as Friendship herself could scarce have achieved for them, had she projected it for a month.

  - And your reflection upon it shows how much, Monsieur, she has embarrassed you by the adventure -

  When the situation is what we would wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to hint at the circumstances which make it so: you thank Fortune, continued she - you had reason - the heart knew it, and was satisfied; and who but an English philosopher would have sent notice of it to the brain to reverse the judgment?

  In saying this, she disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary upon the text.

  It is a miserable picture which I am going to give of the weakness of my heart, by owning, that it suffered a pain, which worthier occasions could not have inflicted. - I was mortified with the loss of her hand, and the manner in which I had lost it carried neither oil nor wine to the wound: I never felt the pain of a sheepish inferiority so miserably in my life.

  The triumphs of a true feminine heart are short upon these discomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply; so, some way or other, G
od knows how, I regained my situation.

  - She had nothing to add.

  I forthwith began to model a different conversation for the lady, thinking from the spirit as well as moral of this, that I had been mistaken in her character; but upon turning her face towards me, the spirit which had animated the reply was fled, - the muscles relaxed, and I beheld the same unprotected look of distress which first won me to her interest: - melancholy! to see such sprightliness the prey of sorrow, - I pitied her from my soul; and though it may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid heart, - I could have taken her into my arms, and cherished her, though it was in the open street, without brushing.

  The pulsations of the arteries along my fingers pressing across hers, told her what was passing within me: she looked down - a silence of some moments followed.

  I fear in this interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of my own, - not as if she was going to withdraw hers - but as if she thought about it; - and I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to the last resource in these dangers, - to hold it loosely, and in a manner as if I was every moment going to release it, of myself; so she let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the mean time I set myself to consider how I should undo the ill impressions which the poor monk’s story, in case he had told it her, must have planted in her breast against me.

  THE SNUFF BOX. CALAIS.

  The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of him crossed my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. - He stopp’d, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness: and having a horn snuff box in his hand, he presented it open to me. - You shall taste mine - said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoise one) and putting it into his hand. - ’Tis most excellent, said the monk. Then do me the favour, I replied, to accept of the box and all, and when you take a pinch out of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace offering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.

  The poor monk blush’d as red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands together - you never used me unkindly. - I should think, said the lady, he is not likely. I blush’d in my turn; but from what movements, I leave to the few who feel, to analyze. - Excuse me, Madame, replied I, - I treated him most unkindly; and from no provocations. - ’Tis impossible, said the lady. - My God! cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seem’d not to belong to him - the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal. - The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible, that a spirit so regulated as his, could give offence to any.

  I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. - We remained silent, without any sensation of that foolish pain which takes place, when, in such a circle, you look for ten minutes in one another’s faces without saying a word. Whilst this lasted, the monk rubbed his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction - he made me a low bow, and said, ’twas too late to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us in this contest - but be it as it would, - he begg’d we might exchange boxes. - In saying this, he presented his to me with one hand, as he took mine from me in the other, and having kissed it, - with a stream of good nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom, - and took his leave.

  I guard this box, as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better: in truth, I seldom go abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own, in the justlings of the world: they had found full employment for his, as I learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his age, when upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at the same time with a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary not so much in his convent as in himself.

  I feel a damp upon my spirits, as I am going to add, that in my last return through Calais, upon enquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near three months, and was buried, not in his convent, but, according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off: I had a strong desire to see where they had laid him, - when, upon pulling out his little horn box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections, that I burst into a flood of tears: - but I am as weak as a woman; and I beg the world not to smile, but to pity me.

  THE REMISE DOOR. CALAIS.

  I had never quitted the lady’s hand all this time, and had held it so long, that it would have been indecent to have let it go, without first pressing it to my lips: the blood and spirits, which had suffered a revulsion from her, crowded back to her as I did it.

  Now the two travellers, who had spoke to me in the coach-yard, happening at that crisis to be passing by, and observing our communications, naturally took it into their heads that we must be man and wife at least; so, stopping as soon as they came up to the door of the Remise, the one of them who was the Inquisitive Traveller, ask’d us, if we set out for Paris the next morning? - I could only answer for myself, I said; and the lady added, she was for Amiens. - We dined there yesterday, said the Simple Traveller. - You go directly through the town, added the other, in your road to Paris. I was going to return a thousand thanks for the intelligence, that Amiens was inthe road to Paris, but, upon pulling out my poor monk’s little horn box to take a pinch of snuff, I made them a quiet bow, and wishing them a good passage to Dover. - They left us alone. -

  - Now where would be the harm, said I to myself, if I were to beg of this distressed lady to accept of half of my chaise? - and what mighty mischief could ensue?

  Every dirty passion, and bad propensity in my nature took the alarm, as I stated the proposition. - It will oblige you to have a third horse, said Avarice, which will put twenty livres out of your pocket; - You know not what she is, said Caution; - or what scrapes the affair may draw you into, whisper’d Cowardice. -

  Depend upon it, Yorick! said Discretion, ’twill be said you went off with a mistress, and came by assignation to Calais for that purpose; -

  - You can never after, cried Hypocrisy aloud, show your face in the world; - or rise, quoth Meanness, in the church; - or be any thing in it, said Pride, but a lousy prebendary.

  But ’tis a civil thing, said I; - and as I generally act from the first impulse, and therefore seldom listen to these cabals, which serve no purpose, that I know of, but to encompass the heart with adamant - I turned instantly about to the lady. -

  - But she had glided off unperceived, as the cause was pleading, and had made ten or a dozen paces down the street, by the time I had made the determination; so I set off after her with a long stride, to make her the proposal, with the best address I was master of: but observing she walk’d with her cheek half resting upon the palm of her hand, - with the slow short-measur’d step of thoughtfulness, - and with her eyes, as she went step by step, fixed upon the ground, it struck me she was trying the same cause herself. - God help her! said I, she has some mother-in-law, or tartufish aunt, or nonsensical old woman, to consult upon the occasion, as well as myself: so not caring to interrupt the process, and deeming it more gallant to take her at discretion than by surprise, I faced about and took a short turn or two before the door of the Remise, whilst she walk’d musing on one side.

  IN THE STREET. CALAIS.

  Having, on the first sight of the lady, settled the affair in my fancy “that she was of the better order of beings;” - and then laid it down as a second axiom, as indisputable as the first, that she was a widow, and wore a character of distress, - I went no further; I got ground enough for the situation which please
d me; - and had she remained close beside my elbow till midnight, I should have held true to my system, and considered her only under that general idea.

  She had scarce got twenty paces distant from me, ere something within me called out for a more particular enquiry; - it brought on the idea of a further separation: - I might possibly never see her more: - The heart is for saving what it can; and I wanted the traces through which my wishes might find their way to her, in case I should never rejoin her myself; in a word, I wished to know her name, - her family’s - her condition; and as I knew the place to which she was going, I wanted to know from whence she came: but there was no coming at all this intelligence; a hundred little delicacies stood in the way. I form’d a score different plans. - There was no such thing as a man’s asking her directly; - the thing was impossible.

  A little French débonnaire captain, who came dancing down the street, showed me it was the easiest thing in the world: for, popping in betwixt us, just as the lady was returning back to the door of the Remise, he introduced himself to my acquaintance, and before he had well got announced, begg’d I would do him the honour to present him to the lady. - I had not been presented myself; - so turning about to her, he did it just as well, by asking her if she had come from Paris? No: she was going that route, she said. - Vous n’êtes pas de Londres? - She was not, she replied. - Then Madame must have come through Flanders. - Apparemment vous êtes Flammande? said the French captain. - The lady answered, she was. - Peut être de Lisle? added he. - She said, she was not of Lisle. - Nor Arras? - nor Cambray? - nor Ghent? - nor Brussels? - She answered, she was of Brussels.