Travels Through France And Italy, Tobias Smollett [love novels in english .TXT] 📗

At The Hotel Charlemagne

Of The Belgian Who Sought To Conciliate His French Neighbour By

Remarking, "Je Vois Que Vous Etes Français, Monsieur, Parceque

Vous Mangez Beaucoup De Pain," And The Frenchman's Retort, "Je

Vois Que Vous Etes Lye Monsieur, Parceque Vous Mangez Beaucoup

De Tout!" From Frejus

Smollett Proceeds To Toulon, Repeating The Old Epigram That "The

King Of France Is Greater At Toulon Than At Versailles." The

Weather Is So Pleasant That The Travellers Enjoy A Continual

Concert Of "Nightingales" From Vienne To Fontainebleau. The

"Douche" Of Aix-Les-Bains Having Been Explained, Smollett And His

Party Proceeded Agreeably To Avignon, Where By One Of The Strange

Coincidences Of Travel He Met His Old Voiturier Joseph "So

Embrowned By The Sun That He Might Have Passed For An Iroquois."

In Spite Of Joseph's Testimonial The "Plagues Of Posting" Are

Still In The Ascendant, And Smollett Is Once More Generous Of

Good Advice. Above All, He Adjures Us When Travelling Never To

Omit To Carry A Hammer And Nails, A Crowbar, An Iron Pin Or Two,

A Large Knife, And A Bladder Of Grease. Why Not A Lynch Pin,

Which We Were So Carefully Instructed How To Inquire About In

Murray's Conversation For Travellers?

 

 

 

Part 7 Pg 44

But-The History Of His Troublous Travels Is Drawing To An End.

From Lyons The Route Is Plain Through Macon, Chalons, Dijon,

Auxerre, Sells, And Fontainebleau--The Whole Itinerary Almost

Exactly Anticipates That Of Talfourd's Vacation Tour One Hundred

And Ten Years Later, Except That On The Outward Journey Talfourd

Sailed Down The Rhone.

 

 

 

Smollett's Old Mental Grievances And Sores Have Been Shifted And

To Some Extent, Let Us Hope, Dissipated By His Strenuous

Journeyings, And In June 1765, After An Absence Of Two Years, He

Is Once More Enabled To Write,

 

 

 

"You Cannot Imagine What Pleasure I Feel While I Survey The White

Cliffs Of Dover At This Distance [From Boulogne]. Not That I Am

At All Affected By The Nescio Qua Dulcedine Natalis Soli Of

Horace.

 

 

 

"That Seems To Be A Kind Of Fanaticism, Founded On The Prejudices

Of Education, Which Induces A Laplander To Place The Terrestrial

Paradise Among The Snows Of Norway, And A Swiss To Prefer The

Barren Mountains Of Soleure To The Fruitful Plains Of Lombardy. I

Am Attached To My Country, Because It Is The Land Of Liberty,

Cleanliness, And Convenience; But I Love It Still More Tenderly,

As The Scene Of All My Interesting Connections, As The Habitation

Of My Friends, For Whose Conversation, Correspondence, And Esteem

I Wish Alone To Live."

 

 

 

For The Time Being It Cannot Be Doubted That The Hardships

Smollett Had To Undergo On His Italian Journey, By Sea And Land,

And The Violent Passions By Which He Was Agitated Owing To The

Conduct Of Refractory Postilions And Extortionate Innkeepers,

Contributed Positively To Brace Up And Invigorate His

Constitution. He Spoke Of Himself Indeed As "Mended By Ill-Treatment"

Not Unlike Tavernier, The Famous Traveller,--Said To

Have Been Radically Cured Of The Gout By A Turkish Aga In Egypt,

Who Gave Him The Bastinado Because He Would Not Look At The Head

Of The Bashaw Of Cairo. But Fizes Was Right After All In His

Swan-Prescription, For Poor Smollett's Cure Was Anything But A

Radical One. His Health Soon Collapsed Under The Dreary Round Of

Incessant Labour At Chelsea. His Literary Faculty Was Still

Maturing And Developing. His Genius Was Mellowing, And A Later

Work Might Have Eclipsed Clinker. But It Was Not To Be. He Had A

Severe Relapse In The Winter. In 1770 He Had Once More To Take

Refuge From Overwork On The Sunny Coast He Had Done So Much To

Popularize Among His Countrymen, And It Was Near Leghorn That He

Died On 17th September 1771.

Part 7 Pg 45

 

Anno Aetatis 51.

Ehev! Qvam Procvl A Patria!

Prope Libvrni Portvm, In Italia

Jacet Sepvltvs.

 

 

 

Thomas Seccombe. Acton, May 1907.

 

Part 7 Letter 1 (Boulogne Sur Mer, June 23, 1763.) Pg 46

 

Dear Sir,--You Laid Your Commands Upon Me At Parting, To

Communicate From Time To Time The Observations I Should Make In

The Course Of My Travels And It Was An Injunction I Received With

Pleasure. In Gratifying Your Curiosity, I Shall Find Some

Amusement To Beguile The Tedious Hours, Which, Without Some Such

Employment, Would Be Rendered Insupportable By Distemper And

Disquiet.

 

 

 

You Knew, And Pitied My Situation, Traduced By Malice, Persecuted

By Faction, Abandoned By False Patrons, And Overwhelmed By The

Sense Of A Domestic Calamity, Which It Was Not In The Power Of

Fortune To Repair.

 

 

 

You Know With What Eagerness I Fled From My Country As A Scene Of

Illiberal Dispute, And Incredible Infatuation, Where A Few

Worthless Incendiaries Had, By Dint Of Perfidious Calumnies And

Atrocious Abuse, Kindled Up A Flame Which Threatened All The

Horrors Of Civil Dissension.

 

 

 

I Packed Up My Little Family In A Hired Coach, And Attended By My

Trusty Servant, Who Had Lived With Me A Dozen Of Years, And Now

Refused To Leave Me, Took The Road To Dover, In My Way To The

South Of France, Where I Hoped The Mildness Of The Climate Would

Prove Favourable To The Weak State Of My Lungs.

 

Part 7 Letter 1 (Boulogne Sur Mer, June 23, 1763.) Pg 47

 

 

You Advised Me To Have Recourse Again To The Bath Waters, From

The Use Of Which I Had Received Great Benefit The Preceding

Winter: But I Had Many Inducements To Leave England. My Wife

Earnestly Begged I Would Convey Her From A Country Where Every

Object Served To Nourish Her Grief: I Was In Hopes That A

Succession Of New Scenes Would Engage Her Attention, And

Gradually Call Off Her Mind From A Series Of Painful Reflections;

And I Imagined The Change Of Air, And A Journey Of Near A

Thousand Miles, Would Have A Happy Effect Upon My Own

Constitution. But, As The Summer Was Already Advanced, And The

Heat Too Excessive For Travelling In Warm Climates, I Proposed

Staying At Boulogne Till The Beginning Of Autumn, And In The Mean

Time To Bathe In The Sea, With A View To Strengthen And Prepare

My Body For The Fatigues Of Such A Long Journey.

 

 

 

A Man Who Travels With A Family Of Five Persons, Must Lay His

Account With A Number Of Mortifications; And Some Of These I Have

Already Happily Overcome. Though I Was Well Acquainted With The

Road To Dover, And Made Allowances Accordingly, I Could Not Help

Being Chagrined At The Bad Accommodation And Impudent Imposition

To Which I Was Exposed. These I Found The More Disagreeable, As

We Were Detained A Day Extraordinary On The Road, In Consequence

Of My Wife's Being Indisposed.

 

 

 

I Need Not Tell You This Is The Worst Road In England With

Respect To The Conveniences Of Travelling, And Must Certainly

Impress Foreigners With An Unfavourable Opinion Of The Nation In

General. The Chambers Are In General Cold And Comfortless, The

Beds Paultry, The Cookery Execrable, The Wine Poison, The

Attendance Bad, The Publicans Insolent, And The Bills Extortion;

There Is Not A Drop Of Tolerable Malt Liquor To Be Had From

London To Dover.

 

 

 

Every Landlord And Every Waiter Harangued Upon The Knavery Of A

Publican In Canterbury, Who Had Charged The French Ambassador

Forty Pounds For A Supper That Was Not Worth Forty Shillings.

They Talked Much Of Honesty And Conscience; But When They

Produced Their Own Bills, They Appeared To Be All Of The Same

Family And Complexion. If It Was A Reproach Upon The English

Nation, That An Innkeeper Should Pillage Strangers At That Rate;

It Is A Greater Scandal, That The Same Fellow Should Be Able To

Keep His House Still Open. I Own, I Think It Would Be For The

Honour Of The Kingdom To Reform The Abuses Of This Road; And In

Particular To Improve The Avenue To London By The Way Of Kent-Street,

Which Is A Most Disgraceful Entrance To Such An Opulent

City. A Foreigner, In Passing Through This Beggarly And Ruinous 

Part 7 Letter 1 (Boulogne Sur Mer, June 23, 1763.) Pg 48

Suburb, Conceives Such An Idea Of Misery And Meanness, As All The

Wealth And Magnificence Of London And Westminster Are Afterwards

Unable To Destroy. A Friend Of Mine, Who Brought A Parisian From

Dover In His Own Post-Chaise, Contrived To Enter Southwark After

It Was Dark, That His Friend Might Not Perceive The Nakedness Of

This Quarter. The Stranger Was Much Pleased With The Great Number

Of Shops Full Of Merchandize, Lighted Up To The Best Advantage.

He Was Astonished At The Display Of Riches In Lombard-Street And

Cheapside. The Badness Of The Pavement Made Him Find The Streets

Twice As Long As They Were. They Alighted In Upper Brook-Street

By Grosvenor-Square; And When His Conductor Told Him They Were

Then About The Middle Of London, The Frenchman Declared, With

Marks Of Infinite Surprize, That London Was Very Near As Long As

Paris.

 

 

 

On My Arrival At Dover I Payed Off My Coachman, Who Went Away

With A Heavy Heart. He Wanted Much To Cross The Sea, And

Endeavoured To Persuade Me To Carry