How merciful, adds Bevoriskius, is heaven to his creatures!

Ill fated Yorick! that the gravest of thy brethren should be able to write that to the world, which stains thy face with crimson, to copy in even thy study.

But this is nothing to my travels——So I twice—twice beg pardon for it.

Character

Versailles

And how do you find the French? said the Count de B^****, after he had given me the passport.

The reader may suppose, that after so obliging a proof of courtesy, I could not be at a loss to say something handsome to the inquiry.

——Mais passe, pour cela——Speak frankly, said he; do you find all the urbanity in the French which the world give us the honour of?——I had found every thing, I said, which confirmed it——Vraiment, said the Count,—les Français sont polis——To an excess, replied I.

The Count took notice of the word excesse; and would have it I meant more than I said. I defended myself a long time as well as I could against it—he insisted I had a reserve, and that I would speak my opinion frankly.

I believe, Mons. le Count, said I, that man has a certain compass, as well as an instrument; and that the social and other calls have occasion by turns for every key in him; so that if you begin a note too high or too low, there must be a want either in the upper or under part, to fill up the system of harmony.——The Count de B^**** did not understand music, so desired me to explain it some other way. A polish’d nation, my dear Count, said I, makes every one its debtor; and besides, urbanity itself, like the fair sex, has so many charms, it goes against the heart to say it can do ill: and yet, I believe, there is but a certain line of perfection, that man, take him altogether, is empowered to arrive at—if he gets beyond, he rather exchanges qualities than gets them. I must not presume to say, how far this has affected the French in the subject we are speaking of—but should it ever be the case of the English, in the progress of their refinements, to arrive at the same polish which distinguishes the French, if we did not lose the politesse de cœur, which inclines men more to humane actions than courteous ones—we should at least lose that distinct variety and originality of character, which distinguishes them, not only from each other, but from all the world besides.

I had a few of king William’s shillings, as smooth as glass, in my pocket; and foreseeing they would be of use in the illustration of my hypothesis, I had got them into my hand, when I had proceeded so far——

See, Mons. le Count, said I, rising up, and laying them before him upon the table—by jingling and rubbing one against another for seventy years together in one body’s pocket or another’s, they are become so much alike, you can scarce distinguish one shilling from another.

The English, like antient medals, kept more apart, and passing but few peoples hands, preserve the first sharpnesses which the fine hand of nature has given them—they are not so pleasant to feel—but in return, the legend is so visible, that at the first look you see whose image and superscription they bear——But the French, Mons. le Count, added I (wishing to soften what I had said) have so many excellencies, they can the better spare this——they are a loyal, a gallant, a generous, an ingenious, and good-temper’d people as is under heaven;—if they have a fault,—they are too serious.

Mon dieu! cried the Count, rising out of his chair.

Mais vous plaisantez, said he, correcting his exclamation——I laid my hand upon my breast, and with earnest gravity assured him, it was my most settled opinion.