A thin, spare form, something above the common size, if it
lost not the distinction by a bend forward in the figure, - but it
was the attitude of Intreaty; and, as it now stands presented to my
imagination, it gained more than it lost by it.
When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and
laying his left hand upon his breast (a slender white staff with
which he journey'd being in his right) - when I had got close up to
him, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of
his convent, and the poverty of his order; - and did it with so
simple a grace, - and such an air of deprecation was there in the
whole cast of his look and figure, - I was bewitch'd not to have
been struck with it.
- A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a single
sous.
THE MONK. CALAIS.
- 'Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes,
with which he had concluded his address; - 'tis very true, - and
heaven be their resource who have no other but the charity of the
world, the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the
many GREAT CLAIMS which are hourly made upon it.
As I pronounced the words GREAT CLAIMS, he gave a slight glance
with his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic: - I felt the
full force of the appeal - I acknowledge it, said I: - a coarse
habit, and that but once in three years with meagre diet, - are no
great matters; and the true point of pity is, as they can be earn'd
in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish
to procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property of
the lame, the blind, the aged and the infirm; - the captive who lies
down counting over and over again the days of his afflictions,
languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the ORDER
OF MERCY, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am,
continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully should it
have been open'd to you, for the ransom of the unfortunate. - The
monk made me a bow. - But of all others, resumed I, the unfortunate
of our own country, surely, have the first rights; and I have left
thousands in distress upon our own shore. - The monk gave a cordial
wave with his head, - as much as to say, No doubt there is misery
enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent-
-But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve of his
tunic, in return for his appeal - we distinguish, my good father!
betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labour -
and those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other
plan in life, but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, FOR THE
LOVE OF GOD.
The poor Franciscan made no reply: a hectic of a moment pass'd
across his cheek, but could not tarry - Nature seemed to have done
with her resentments in him; - he showed none: - but letting his
staff fall within his arms, he pressed both his hands with
resignation upon his breast, and retired.
THE MONK. CALAIS.
My heart smote me the moment he shut the door - Psha! said I, with
an air of carelessness, three several times - but it would not do:
every ungracious syllable I had utter'd crowded back into my
imagination: I reflected, I had no right over the poor Franciscan,
but to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to the
disappointed, without the addition of unkind language. - I
consider'd his gray hairs - his courteous figure seem'd to re-enter
and gently ask me what injury he had done me? - and why I could use
him thus? - I would have given twenty livres for an advocate. - I
have behaved very ill, said I within myself; but I have only just
set out upon my travels; and shall learn better manners as I get
along.
THE DESOBLIGEANT. CALAIS.
When a man is discontented with himself, it has one advantage
however, that it puts him into an excellent frame of mind for
making a bargain. Now there being no travelling through France and
Italy without a chaise, - and nature generally prompting us to the
thing we are fittest for, I walk'd out into the coach-yard to buy
or hire something of that kind to my purpose: an old desobligeant
in the furthest corner of the court, hit my fancy at first sight,
so I instantly got into it, and finding it in tolerable harmony
with my feelings, I ordered the waiter to call Monsieur Dessein,
the master of the hotel: - but Monsieur Dessein being gone to
vespers, and not caring to face the Franciscan, whom I saw on the
opposite side of the court, in conference with a lady just arrived
at the inn, - I drew the taffeta curtain betwixt us, and being
determined to write my journey, I took out my pen and ink and wrote
the preface to it in the desobligeant.
PREFACE. IN THE DESOBLIGEANT.
It must have been observed by many a peripatetic philosopher, That
nature has set up by her own unquestionable authority certain
boundaries and fences to circumscribe the discontent of man; she
has effected her purpose in the quietest and easiest manner by
laying him under almost insuperable obligations to work out his
ease, and to sustain his sufferings at home. It is there only that
she has provided him with the most suitable objects to partake of
his happiness, and bear a part of that burden which in all
countries and ages has ever been too heavy for one pair of
shoulders.
