CHAPTER I.
Hints to the English visiting Paris as to their demeanour towards the Parisians, and advice as to the best mode of proceeding in various transactions with them. An appeal to candour and justice against national prejudice.
Happiness is the goal for which mankind is ever seeking, but of the many roads which the imagination traces as the surest and nearest to that desideratum, few, perhaps none, ever chance upon the right; too many pursue a shadow instead of a substance, influenced by a phantom of their own creation, engendered in most instances by pride, vanity, or ambition. Although I do not presume to hope that I can pilot my readers to the wished-for haven, yet I flatter myself I can afford them such counsel as will greatly contribute towards their happiness during their sojourn at Paris or in other parts of France.
Patriotism is certainly a most exalted virtue, but however praiseworthy it may be in Englishmen to cherish within their own breasts the recollection that their fleets and armies have ever prevailed, that their wealth and commerce surpass those of every other nation, etc. etc. it is not absolutely necessary that they should in their outward demeanour towards foreigners, bear the semblance of constantly arrogating to themselves a superiority, of which however conscious and assured they may be, they never can teach others to feel, and least of any a Frenchman, who possesses an equal degree of national predilection as the Englishman, and the moment that sentiment is attacked, or that our Gallic neighbours conceive that an attempt is made to insinuate that they are regarded in the light of inferiority, as compared with any other nation, hatred to the individual who seeks to humiliate them or their country is instantly engendered, and in all their transactions and communications with their soi-disant superior, they will either take some advantage, behave with sullenness, or avail themselves of some opportunity of displaying the ascerbid feeling which has been created: not that I would wish an Englishman to subdue that just and natural pride which he must ever feel when he reflects on the pinnacle of greatness which his country has attained, through the genius, industry, and valour of her sons; yet it is a suaviter in modo which I wish him to preserve in his outward bearing towards the French, without ever compromising the fortiter in re.
I shall now endeavour to illustrate the above theory by citing some instances wherein its axioms were brought into practice under my own observation, and which I trust will convince my readers that it is not from visionary ideas I have formed my conclusions, and that the conduct I recommend to the traveller in France must in a great degree tend to the promotion of his happiness, whilst traversing or residing in foreign climes; as although in other countries the same degree of sensitiveness will not be found as that which exists amongst the French, a mild and unassuming deportment is always appreciated on the Continent, where tradespeople and even servants are not accustomed to be treated in that haughty dictatorial manner, too often adopted by my countrymen towards those to whom they are in the habit of giving their orders.
It is now about twelve years since, whilst I was staying at the Hôtel de Bourbon, at Calais, that I was much struck by the very opposite traits of countenance and difference of demeanour of two gentlemen at the table d'hôte, who appeared nevertheless to be most intimate friends; it was evident they were both English and proved to be brothers. Ever accustomed to study the physiognomies of those around me, I contemplated theirs with peculiar attention, having discovered by their conversation that they were to be my companions on my journey to Paris; and it required no great powers of penetration to perceive that the elder was decided upon viewing all with a jaundiced eye, whilst the younger was disposed to be pleased and in good humour, with all around him. The conducteur announcing that the Diligence was ready and that we must speedily take our seats, abruptly interrupted all my physiognomical meditations, and we quickly repaired to the heavy lumbering vehicle in which we were destined to be dragged to the gay metropolis. Our names being called over in rotation, I found that the brothers had engaged places in the coupé as well as myself, but having priority of claim, had wisely chosen the two corners, the vacant seat in the middle falling to my lot; and I believe, as it proved, it was not a bad arrangement, as I acted as a sort of sand-bag between two jars, which prevented their jarring; in fact I formed a sort of juste milieu between two extremes, and no sooner were we installed in our respective places, than my mediating powers were called into operation, as the following dialogue will exemplify.
"They gave us a very nice dinner, sir," said the good humoured brother who sat on my left.
I replied that I was very well satisfied with it.
"But you don't know what their messes are made of. For my part I like to know what, I eat," observed the discontented brother on my right, "and you don't mean surely, sir, to say that such as they gave us was anything to compare to a good English dinner."
That, I remarked, was entirely an affair of taste; that I myself was most partial to the simpler mode of living of the English, but not so the high aristocracy of our country, with whom French cooks are in the greatest estimation.
"I was very much pleased with the vin ordinaire, as they call it, and found it a pleasant light wine, particularly agreeable when one is thirsty," said Good Humour.
"Light enough at any rate," returned Discontent, "and well named vin ordinaire, for ordinary it is in every sense of the word, pretty much like themselves for that; but if you like to have any when we are in England, I'll make you some; take a little port wine, put some vinegar and a good deal of water with it and there you have it at once; is not that your opinion, sir?"
I replied, that I considered it a beverage well adapted for a sort of draught wine, but that it certainly had not the body that foreign wines have that we are in the habit of drinking in England.
Good Humour not appearing to relish his brother's receipt for making vin ordinaire, changed the subject, by observing that a woman who was standing at the door of an auberge where we were stopping had a very fine expression of countenance, although rather thin and pale, but that there was a pensive cast which prevailed throughout her features and rendered the tout ensemble interesting.
"Oh very fine, indeed," said Discontent, with a sarcastic smile, "as complete a picture of skin and grief as one could wish to see. Pray, sir, is she one of your beauties?"
I admitted that her appearance was rather pleasing, but that beauty was out of the question, nor did I understand his brother to have made any remark conveying the idea that she possessed that charm so truly rare.
"What a delightful house and garden," exclaimed. Good Humour, as we passed by a residence, that had rather an inviting appearance; "now, is it not an agreeable spot to live in," he continued, as he turned to me with a look, so assured of confirmation on my part, that I could not find it in my heart to disappoint him. But as I was about to answer, Discontent grumbled out a few words, which I think were to the effect, that where the country was so hideously frightful, that any thing that