Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 38

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Vanity, I believe, my dear brother, is not ſo innoxious a quality as we are deſirous of ſuppoſing. As it is the moſt general of all human failings, ſo is it regarded with the moſt indulgence: a latent conſciouſneſs averts the cenſure of the weak; and the wiſe, who flatter themſelves with being exempt from it, plead in its favour, by ranking it as a foible too light for ſerious condemnation, or too inoffenſive for puniſhment. Yet, if vanity be not an actual vice, it is certainly a potential one—it often leads us to ſeek reputation rather than virtue, to ſubſtitute appearances for realities, and to prefer the eulogiums of the world to the approbation of our own minds. When it takes poſſeſſion of an uninformed or an ill-conſtituted mind, it becomes the ſource of a thouſand errors, and a thouſand abſurdities. Hence, youth ſeeks a preeminence in vice, and age in folly; hence, many boaſt of errors they would not commit, or claim diſtinction by inveſting themſelves with an imputation of exceſs in ſome popular abſurdity—duels are courted by the daring, and vaunted by the coward—he who trembles at the idea of death and a future ſtate when alone, proclaims himſelf an atheiſt or a free-thinker in public—the water-drinker, who ſuffers the penitence of a week for a ſupernumerary glaſs, recounts the wonders of hiſ intemperance—and he who does not mount the gentleſt animal without trepidation, plumes himſelf on breaking down horſes, and his perils in the chace. In ſhort, whatever order of mankind we contemplate, we ſhall perceive that the portion of vanity allotted us by nature, when it iſ not corrected by a ſound judgement, and rendered ſubſervient to uſeful purpoſes, is ſure either to degrade or miſlead us.

I was led into this train of reflection by the conduct of our Anglo-Gallican legiſlator, Mr. Thomas Paine. He has lately compoſed a ſpeech, which was tranſlated and read in his preſence, (doubtleſs to hiſ great ſatiſfaction,) in which he inſiſts with much vehemence on the neceſſity of trying the King; and he even, with little credit to hiſ humanity, gives intimations of preſumed guilt. Yet I do not ſuſpect Mr. Paine to be of a cruel or unmerciful nature; and, moſt probably, vanity alone has inſtigated him to a proceeding which, one would wiſh to believe, his heart diſapproves. Tired of the part he was playing, and which, it muſt be confeſſed, was not calculated to flatter the cenſurer of Kings and the reformer of conſtitutions, he determined to ſit no longer for whole hours in colloquy with his interpreter, or in mute contemplation, like the Chancellor in the Critic; and the ſpeech to which I have alluded was compoſed. Knowing that lenient opinions would meet no applauſe from the tribunes, he inliſts himſelf on the ſide of ſeverity, accuſes all the Princes in the world as the accomplices of Louis the Sixteenth, expreſſes his deſire for an univerſal revolution, and, after previouſly aſſuring the Convention the King is guilty, recommends that they may inſtantly proceed to his trial. But, after all this tremendous eloquence, perhaps Mr. Paine had no malice in his heart: he may only be ſolicitous to preſerve his reputation from decay, and to indulge his ſelf-importance by aſſiſting at the trial of a Monarch whom he may not wiſh to ſuffer.—I think, therefore, I am not wrong in aſſerting, that Vanity is a very miſchievous counſellor.

The little diſtreſſes I formerly complained of, as ariſing from the paper currency, are nearly removed by a plentiful emiſſion of ſmall aſſignats, and we have now pompous aſſignments on the national domains for ten ſols: we have, likewiſe, pieces coined from the church bells in circulation, but moſt of theſe diſappear as ſoon as iſſued. You would ſcarcely imagine that this copper is deemed worthy to be hoarded; yet ſuch is the people's averſion from the paper, and ſuch their miſtruſt of the government, that not an houſewife will part with one of theſe pieceſ while ſhe has an aſſignat in her poſſeſſion; and thoſe who are rich enough to keep a few livres by them, amaſs and bury this copper treaſure with the utmoſt ſolicitude and ſecreſy.

A tolerably accurate ſcale of the national confidence might be made, by marking the progreſs of theſe ſuſpicious interments. Under the firſt Aſſembly, people began to hide their gold; during the reign of the ſecond they took the ſame affectionate care of their ſilver; and, ſince the meeting of the Convention, they ſeem equally anxious to hide any metal they can get. If one were to deſcribe the preſent age, one might, as far as regards France, call it, both literally and metaphorically, the Iron Age; for it is certain, the character of the times would juſtify the metaphoric application, and the diſappearance of every other metal the literal one. As the French are fond of claſſic examples, I ſhall not be ſurprized to ſee an iron coinage, in imitation of Sparta, though they ſeem in the way of having one reaſon leſs for ſuch a meaſure than the Spartans had, for they are already in a ſtate to defy corruption; and if they were not, I think a war with England would ſecure the purity of their morals from being endangered by too much commercial intercourſe.

I cannot be diſpleaſed with the civil things you ſay of my letters, nor at your valuing them ſo much as to preſerve them; though, I aſſure you, this fraternal gallantry is not neceſſary, on the account you intimate, nor will our countrymen ſuffer, in my opinion, by any compariſons I can make here. Your ideas of French gallantry are, indeed, very erroneouſ—it may differ in the manner from that practiſed in England, but is far from having any claim to ſuperiority. Perhaps I cannot define the pretenſions of the two nations in this reſpect better than by ſaying, that the gallantry of an Engliſhman is a ſentiment—that of a Frenchman a ſyſtem. The firſt, if a lady happen to be old or plain, or indifferent to him, is apt to limit his attentions to reſpect, or utility—now the latter never troubles himſelf with theſe diſtinctions: he is repulſed by no extremity of years, nor deformity of feature; he adores, with equal ardour, both young and old, nor is either often ſhocked by his viſible preference of the other. I have ſeen a youthful beau kiſs, with perfect devotion, a ball of cotton dropped from the hand of a lady who waſ knitting ſtockings for her grand-children. Another pays his court to a belle in her climacteric, by bringing gimbletteſ [A ſort of gingerbread.] to the favourite lap-dog, or attending, with great aſſiduity, the egreſſes and regreſſes of her angola, who paces ſlowly out of the room ten times in an hour, while the door is held open by the complaiſant Frenchman with a moſt reſpectful gravity.

Thus, you ſee, France is to the old what a maſquerade is to the ugly—the one confounds the diſparity of age as the other does that of perſon; but indiſcriminate adoration is no compliment to youth, nor is a maſk any privilege to beauty. We may therefore conclude, that though France may be the Elyſium of old women, England is that of the young. When I firſt came into this country, it reminded me of an iſland I had read of in the Arabian Tales, where the ladies were not deemed in their bloom till they verged towards ſeventy; and I conceived the project of inviting all the belles, who had been half a century out of faſhion in England, to croſs the Channel, and begin a new career of admiration!—Yours, &c.