Travels Through France And Italy by Tobias Smollett (fastest ebook reader .txt) 📕

Frocks And Scratches In A Morning, In The Streets Of This

Metropolis. They Have Set Up A Petite Poste, On The Plan Of Our

Penny-Post, With Some Improvements; And I Am Told There Is A

Scheme On Foot For Supplying Every House With Water, By Leaden

Pipes, From The River Seine. They Have Even Adopted Our Practice

Of The Cold Bath, Which Is Taken Very Conveniently, In Wooden

Houses, Erected On The Side Of The River, The Water Of Which Is

Let In And Out Occasionally, By Cocks Fixed In The Sides Of The

Bath. There Are Different Rooms For The Different Sexes: The

Accommodations Are Good, And The Expence Is A Trifle. The

Tapestry Of The Gobelins Is Brought To An Amazing Degree Of

Perfection; And I Am Surprised That This Furniture Is Not More In

Fashion Among The Great, Who Alone Are Able To Purchase It. It

Would Be A Most Elegant And Magnificent Ornament, Which Would

Always Nobly Distinguish Their Apartments From Those, Of An

Inferior Rank; And In This They Would Run No Risk Of Being

Rivalled By The Bourgeois. At The Village Of Chaillot, In The

Neighbourhood Of Paris, They Make Beautiful Carpets And Screen-Work;

And This Is The More Extraordinary, As There Are Hardly Any

Carpets Used In This Kingdom. In Almost All The Lodging-Houses,

The Floors Are Of Brick, And Have No Other Kind Of Cleaning, Than

That Of Being Sprinkled With Water, And Swept Once A Day. These

Brick Floors, The Stone Stairs, The Want Of Wainscotting In The

Rooms, And The Thick Party-Walls Of Stone, Are, However, Good

Preservatives Against Fire, Which Seldom Does Any Damage In This 

City. Instead Of Wainscotting, The Walls Are Covered With

Tapestry Or Damask. The Beds In General Are Very Good, And Well

Ornamented, With Testers And Curtains.

Twenty Years Ago The River Seine, Within A Mile Of Paris, Was As

Solitary As If It Had Run Through A Desert. At Present The Banks

Of It Are Adorned With A Number Of Elegant Houses And

Plantations, As Far As Marli. I Need Not Mention The Machine At

This Place For Raising Water, Because I Know You Are Well

Acquainted With Its Construction; Nor Shall I Say Any Thing More

Of The City Of Paris, But That There Is A New Square, Built Upon

An Elegant Plan, At The End Of The Garden Of The Thuilleries: It

Is Called Place De Louis Xv. And, In The Middle Of It, There Is A

Good Equestrian Statue Of The Reigning King.

You Have Often Heard That Louis Xiv. Frequently Regretted, That

His Country Did Not Afford Gravel For The Walks Of His Gardens,

Which Are Covered With A White, Loose Sand, Very Disagreeable

Both To The Eyes And Feet Of Those Who Walk Upon It; But This Is

A Vulgar Mistake. There Is Plenty Of Gravel On The Road Between

Paris And Versailles, As Well As In Many Other Parts Of This

Kingdom; But The French, Who Are All For Glare And Glitter, Think

The Other Is More Gay And Agreeable: One Would Imagine They Did

Not Feel The Burning Reflexion From The White Sand, Which In

Summer Is Almost Intolerable.

In The Character Of The French, Considered As A People, There Are

Undoubtedly Many Circumstances Truly Ridiculous. You Know The

Fashionable People, Who Go A Hunting, Are Equipped With Their

Jack Boots, Bag Wigs, Swords And Pistols: But I Saw The Other Day

A Scene Still More Grotesque. On The Road To Choissi, A Fiacre,

Or Hackney-Coach, Stopped, And Out Came Five Or Six Men, Armed

With Musquets, Who Took Post, Each Behind A Separate Tree. I

Asked Our Servant Who They Were Imagining They Might Be Archers,

Or Footpads Of Justice, In Pursuit Of Some Malefactor. But Guess

My Surprise, When The Fellow Told Me, They Were Gentlemen A La

Chasse. They Were In Fact Come Out From Paris, In This Equipage,

To Take The Diversion Of Hare-Hunting; That Is, Of Shooting From

Behind A Tree At The Hares That Chanced To Pass. Indeed, If They

Had Nothing More In View, But To Destroy The Game, This Was A

Very Effectual Method; For The Hares Are In Such Plenty In This

Neighbourhood, That I Have Seen A Dozen Together, In The Same

Field. I Think This Way Of Hunting, In A Coach Or Chariot, Might

Be Properly Adopted At London, In Favour Of Those Aldermen Of The

City, Who Are Too Unwieldy To Follow The Hounds A Horseback.

The French, However, With All Their Absurdities, Preserve A

Certain Ascendancy Over Us, Which Is Very Disgraceful To Our

Nation; And This Appears In Nothing More Than In The Article Of

Dress. We Are Contented To Be Thought Their Apes In Fashion; But,

In Fact, We Are Slaves To Their Taylors, Mantua-Makers, Barbers,

And Other Tradesmen. One Would Be Apt To Imagine That Our Own

Tradesmen Had Joined Them In A Combination Against Us. When The

Natives Of France Come To London, They Appear In All Public

Places, With Cloaths Made According To The Fashion Of Their Own

Country, And This Fashion Is Generally Admired By The English.

Why, Therefore, Don't We Follow It Implicitly? No, We Pique

Ourselves Upon A Most Ridiculous Deviation From The Very Modes We

Admire, And Please Ourselves With Thinking This Deviation Is A

Mark Of Our Spirit And Liberty. But, We Have Not Spirit Enough To

Persist In This Deviation, When We Visit Their Country:

Otherwise, Perhaps, They Would Come To Admire And Follow Our

Example: For, Certainly, In Point Of True Taste, The Fashions Of

Both Countries Are Equally Absurd. At Present, The Skirts Of The

English Descend From The Fifth Rib To The Calf Of The Leg, And

Give The Coat The Form Of A Jewish Gaberdine; And Our Hats Seem

To Be Modelled After That Which Pistol Wears Upon The Stage. In

France, The Haunch Buttons And Pocketholes Are Within Half A Foot

Of The Coat's Extremity: Their Hats Look As If They Had Been

Pared Round The Brims, And The Crown Is Covered With A Kind Of

Cordage, Which, In My Opinion, Produces A Very Beggarly Effect.

In Every Other Circumstance Of Dress, Male And Female, The

Contrast Between The Two Nations, Appears Equally Glaring. What

Is The Consequence? When An Englishman Comes To Paris, He Cannot

Appear Until He Has Undergone A Total Metamorphosis. At His First

Arrival He Finds It Necessary To Send For The Taylor, Perruquier,

Hatter, Shoemaker, And Every Other Tradesman Concerned In The

Equipment Of The Human Body. He Must Even Change His Buckles, And

The Form Of His Ruffles; And, Though At The Risque Of His Life,

Suit His Cloaths To The Mode Of The Season. For Example, Though

The Weather Should Be Never So Cold, He Must Wear His Habit

D'ete, Or Demi-Saison. Without Presuming To Put On A Warm Dress

Before The Day Which Fashion Has Fixed For That Purpose; And

Neither Old Age Nor Infirmity Will Excuse A Man For Wearing His

Hat Upon His Head, Either At Home Or Abroad. Females Are (If

Possible) Still More Subject To The Caprices Of Fashion; And As

The Articles Of Their Dress Are More Manifold, It Is Enough To

Make A Man's Heart Ake To See His Wife Surrounded By A Multitude

Of Cotturieres, Milliners, And Tire-Women. All Her Sacks And

Negligees Must Be Altered And New Trimmed. She Must Have New

Caps, New Laces, New Shoes, And Her Hair New Cut. She Must Have

Her Taffaties For The Summer, Her Flowered Silks For The Spring

And Autumn, Her Sattins And Damasks For Winter. The Good Man, Who

Used To Wear The Beau Drop D'angleterre, Quite Plain All The Year

Round, With A Long Bob, Or Tye Perriwig, Must Here Provide

Himself With A Camblet Suit Trimmed With Silver For Spring And

Autumn, With Silk Cloaths For Summer, And Cloth Laced With Gold,

Or Velvet For Winter; And He Must Wear His Bag-Wig A La Pigeon.

This Variety Of Dress Is Absolutely Indispensible For All Those

Who Pretend To Any Rank Above The Meer Bourgeois. On His Return 

To His Own Country, All This Frippery Is Useless. He Cannot

Appear In London Until He Has Undergone Another Thorough

Metamorphosis; So That He Will Have Some Reason To Think, That

The Tradesmen Of Paris And London Have Combined To Lay Him Under

Contribution: And They, No Doubt, Are The Directors Who Regulate

The Fashions In Both Capitals; The English, However, In A

Subordinate Capacity: For The Puppets Of Their Making Will Not

Pass At Paris, Nor Indeed In Any Other Part Of Europe; Whereas A

French Petit Maitre Is Reckoned A Complete Figure Every Where,

London Not Excepted. Since It Is So Much The Humour Of The

English At Present To Run Abroad, I Wish They Had Anti-Gallican

Spirit Enough To Produce Themselves In Their Own Genuine English

Dress, And Treat The French Modes With The Same Philosophical

Contempt, Which Was Shewn By An Honest Gentleman, Distinguished

By The Name Of Wig-Middleton. That Unshaken Patriot Still Appears

In The Same Kind Of Scratch Perriwig, Skimming-Dish Hat, And Slit

Sleeve, Which Were Worn Five-And-Twenty Years Ago, And Has

Invariably Persisted In This Garb, In Defiance Of All The

Revolutions Of The Mode. I Remember A Student In The Temple, Who,

After A Long And Learned Investigation Of The To Kalon, Or

Beautiful, Had Resolution Enough To Let His Beard Grow, And Wore

It In All Public Places, Until His Heir At Law Applied For A

Commission Of Lunacy Against Him; Then He Submitted To The Razor,

Rather Than Run Any Risque Of Being Found Non Compos.

Before I Conclude, I Must Tell You, That The Most Reputable Shop-Keepers

And Tradesmen Of Paris Think It No Disgrace To Practise

The Most Shameful Imposition. I Myself Know An Instance Of One Of

The Most Creditable Marchands In This Capital, Who Demanded Six

Francs An Ell For Some Lutestring, Laying His Hand Upon His

Breast At The Same Time, And Declaring En Conscience, That It Had

Cost Him Within Three Sols Of The Money. Yet In Less Than Three

Minutes, He Sold It For Four And A Half, And When The Buyer

Upbraided Him With His Former Declaration, He Shrugged Up His

Shoulders, Saying, Il Faut Marchander. I Don't Mention This As A

Particular Instance. The Same Mean Disingenuity Is Universal All

Over