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

The Most Unwearied Importunity: He Asks The Price Of Every Thing

You Wear, And, So Sure As You Tell Him Undervalues It, Without

Hesitation: He Affirms It Is In A Bad Taste, Ill-Contrived, Ill-Made;

That You Have Been Imposed Upon Both With Respect To The

Fashion And The Price; That The Marquise Of This, Or The Countess

Of That, Has One That Is Perfectly Elegant, Quite In The Bon Ton,

And Yet It Cost Her Little More Than You Gave For A Thing That

Nobody Would Wear.

If There Were Five Hundred Dishes At Table, A Frenchman Will Eat

Of All Of Them, And Then Complain He Has No Appetite. This I Have

Several Times Remarked. A Friend Of Mine Gained A Considerable

Wager Upon An Experiment Of This Kind: The Petit Maitre Ate Of

Fourteen Different Plats, Besides The Dessert; Then Disparaged

The Cook, Declaring He Was No Better Than A Marmiton, Or

Turnspit.

The French Have The Most Ridiculous Fondness For Their Hair, And

This I Believe They Inherit From Their Remote Ancestors. The

First Race Of French Kings Were Distinguished By Their Long Hair,

And Certainly The People Of This Country Consider It As An

Indispensible Ornament. A Frenchman Will Sooner Part With His

Religion Than With His Hair, Which, Indeed, No Consideration Will

Induce Him To Forego. I Know A Gentleman Afflicted With A

Continual Head-Ach, And A Defluxion On His Eyes, Who Was Told By

His Physician That The Best Chance He Had For Being Cured, Would

Be To Have His Head Close Shaved, And Bathed Every Day In Cold

Water. "How (Cried He) Cut My Hair? Mr. Doctor, Your Most Humble

Servant!" He Dismissed His Physician, Lost His Eye-Sight, And

Almost His Senses, And Is Now Led About With His Hair In A Bag,

And A Piece Of Green Silk Hanging Like A Screen Before His Face.

Count Saxe, And Other Military Writers Have Demonstrated The

Absurdity Of A Soldier's Wearing A Long Head Of Hair;

Nevertheless, Every Soldier In This Country Wears A Long Queue,

Which Makes A Delicate Mark On His White Cloathing; And This

Ridiculous Foppery Has Descended Even To The Lowest Class Of

People. The Decrotteur, Who Cleans Your Shoes At The Corner Of

The Pont Neuf, Has A Tail Of This Kind Hanging Down To His Rump,

And Even The Peasant Who Drives An Ass Loaded With Dung, Wears

His Hair En Queue, Though, Perhaps, He Has Neither Shirt Nor

Breeches. This Is The Ornament Upon Which He Bestows Much Time

And Pains, And In The Exhibition Of Which He Finds Full

Gratification For His Vanity. Considering The Harsh Features Of

The Common People In This Country, Their Diminutive Stature,

Their Grimaces, And That Long Appendage, They Have No Small

Resemblance To Large Baboons Walking Upright; And Perhaps This

Similitude Has Helped To Entail Upon Them The Ridicule Of Their 

Neighbours.

A French Friend Tires Out Your Patience With Long Visits; And,

Far From Taking The Most Palpable Hints To Withdraw, When He

Perceives You Uneasy He Observes You Are Low-Spirited, And

Therefore He Will Keep You Company. This Perseverance Shews That

He Must Either Be Void Of Penetration, Or That His Disposition

Must Be Truly Diabolical. Rather Than Be Tormented With Such A

Fiend, A Man Had Better Turn Him Out Of Doors, Even Though At The

Hazard Of Being Run Thro' The Body.

The French Are Generally Counted Insincere, And Taxed With Want

Of Generosity. But I Think These Reproaches Are Not Well Founded.

High-Flown Professions Of Friendship And Attachment Constitute

The Language Of Common Compliment In This Country, And Are Never

Supposed To Be Understood In The Literal Acceptation Of The

Words; And, If Their Acts Of Generosity Are But Very Rare, We

Ought To Ascribe That Rarity, Not So Much To A Deficiency Of

Generous Sentiments, As To Their Vanity And Ostentation, Which

Engrossing All Their Funds, Utterly Disable Them From Exerting

The Virtues Of Beneficence. Vanity, Indeed, Predominates Among

All Ranks, To Such A Degree, That They Are The Greatest Egotists

In The World; And The Most Insignificant Individual Talks In

Company With The Same Conceit And Arrogance, As A Person Of The

Greatest Importance. Neither Conscious Poverty Nor Disgrace Will

Restrain Him In The Least Either From Assuming His Full Share Of

The Conversation, Or Making Big Addresses To The Finest Lady,

Whom He Has The Smallest Opportunity To Approach: Nor Is He

Restrained By Any Other Consideration Whatsoever. It Is All One

To Him Whether He Himself Has A Wife Of His Own, Or The Lady A

Husband; Whether She Is Designed For The Cloister, Or Pre-Ingaged

To His Best Friend And Benefactor. He Takes It For Granted That

His Addresses Cannot But Be Acceptable; And, If He Meets With A

Repulse, He Condemns Her Taste; But Never Doubts His Own

Qualifications.

I Have A Great Many Things To Say Of Their Military Character,

And Their Punctilios Of Honour, Which Last Are Equally Absurd And

Pernicious; But As This Letter Has Run To An Unconscionable

Length, I Shall Defer Them Till Another Opportunity. Mean-While,

I Have The Honour To Be, With Very Particular Esteem--Madam, Your

Most Obedient Servant.

Dear Sir,--I Was Favoured With Yours At Paris, And Look Upon Your

Reproaches As The Proof Of Your Friendship. The Truth Is, I

Considered All The Letters I Have Hitherto Written On The Subject

Of My Travels, As Written To Your Society In General, Though They

Have Been Addressed To One Individual Of It; And If They Contain

Any Thing That Can Either Amuse Or Inform, I Desire That

Henceforth All I Send May Be Freely Perused By All The Members.

With Respect To My Health, About Which You So Kindly Enquire, I

Have Nothing New To Communicate. I Had Reason To Think That My

Bathing In The Sea At Boulogne  Produced A Good Effect, In

Strengthening My Relaxed Fibres. You Know How Subject I Was To

Colds In England; That I Could Not Stir Abroad After Sun-Set, Nor

Expose Myself To The Smallest Damp, Nor Walk Till The Least

Moisture Appeared On My Skin, Without Being Laid Up For Ten Days

Or A Fortnight. At Paris, However, I Went Out Every Day, With My

Hat Under My Arm, Though The Weather Was Wet And Cold: I Walked

In The Garden At Versailles Even After It Was Dark, With My Head

Uncovered, On A Cold Evening, When The Ground Was Far From Being

Dry: Nay, At Marli, I Sauntered Above A Mile Through Damp Alleys,

And Wet Grass: And From None Of These Risques Did I Feel The

Least Inconvenience.

In One Of Our Excursions We Visited The Manufacture For

Porcelain, Which The King Of France Has Established At The

Village Of St. Cloud, On The Road To Versailles, And Which Is,

Indeed, A Noble Monument Of His Munificence. It Is A Very Large

Building, Both Commodious And Magnificent, Where A Great Number

Of Artists Are Employed, And Where This Elegant Superfluity Is

Carried To As Great Perfection As It Ever Was At Dresden. Yet,

After All, I Know Not Whether The Porcelain Made At Chelsea May

Not Vie With The Productions Either Of Dresden, Or St. Cloud. If

It Falls Short Of Either, It Is Not In The Design, Painting,

Enamel, Or Other Ornaments, But Only In The Composition Of The

Metal, And The Method Of Managing It In The Furnace. Our

Porcelain Seems To Be A Partial Vitrification Of Levigated Flint

And Fine Pipe Clay, Mixed Together In A Certain Proportion; And

If The Pieces Are Not Removed From The Fire In The Very Critical

Moment, They Will Be Either Too Little, Or Too Much Vitrified. In

The First Case, I Apprehend They Will Not Acquire A Proper Degree

Of Cohesion; They Will Be Apt To Be Corroded, Discoloured, And To

Crumble, Like The First Essays That Were Made At Chelsea; In The

Second Case, They Will Be Little Better Than Imperfect Glass.

There Are Three Methods Of Travelling From Paris To Lyons, Which,

By The Shortest Road Is A Journey Of About Three Hundred And

Sixty Miles. One Is By The Diligence, Or Stagecoach, Which

Performs It In Five Days; And Every Passenger Pays One Hundred

Livres, In Consideration Of Which, He Not Only Has A Seat In The

Carriage, But Is Maintained On The Road. The Inconveniences

Attending This Way Of Travelling Are These. You Are Crouded Into

The Carriage, To The Number Of Eight Persons, So As To Sit Very

Uneasy, And Sometimes Run The Risque Of Being Stifled Among Very

Indifferent Company. You Are Hurried Out Of Bed, At Four, Three,

Nay Often At Two O'clock In The Morning. You Are Obliged To Eat

In The French Way, Which Is Very Disagreeable To An English

Palate; And, At Chalons, You Must Embark Upon The Saone In A

Boat, Which Conveys You To Lyons, So That The Two Last Days Of

Your Journey Are By Water. All These Were Insurmountable

Objections To Me, Who Am In Such A Bad State Of Health, Troubled

With An Asthmatic Cough, Spitting, Slow Fever, And Restlessness,

Which Demands A Continual Change Of Place, As Well As Free Air,

And Room For Motion. I Was This Day Visited By Two Young

Gentlemen, Sons Of Mr. Guastaldi, Late Minister From Genoa At

London. I Had Seen Them At Paris, At The House Of The Dutchess Of

Douglas. They Came Hither, With Their Conductor, In The

Diligence, And Assured Me, That Nothing Could Be More

Disagreeable Than Their Situation In That Carriage.

Another Way Of Travelling In This Country Is To Hire A Coach And

Four Horses; And This Method I Was Inclined To Take: But When I

Went To The Bureau, Where Alone These Voitures Are To Be Had, I

Was Given To Understand, That It Would Cost Me Six-And-Twenty

Guineas, And Travel So Slow That I Should Be Ten Days Upon The

Road. These Carriages Are Let By The Same Persons Who Farm The

Diligence; And For This They Have An Exclusive Privilege, Which

Makes Them Very Saucy And Insolent. When I Mentioned My Servant,

They Gave Me To Understand, That I Must Pay Two Loui'dores More

For His Seat Upon The Coach Box. As I Could Not Relish These

Terms, Nor Brook The Thoughts Of Being So Long Upon