CHAPTER XLII

He takes his passage in a cutter for Deal—we are accosted by a Priest,

who proves to be a Scotchman—his profession on friendship—he is

affronted by the Lieutenant, who afterwards appeases him by

submission—my uncle embarks—I am introduced by a Priest to a Capuchin,

in whose company I set out for Paris—the character of my fellow

traveller—an adventure on the road—I am shocked at his behaviour

When our repast was ended, we walked down to the harbour, where we

found a cutter that was to sail for Deal in the evening, and Mr.

Bowling agreed for his passage. In the meantime, we sauntered about the

town to satisfy our curiosity, our conversation turning on the subject

of my designs, which were not as yet fixed: neither can it be supposed

that my mind was at ease, when I found myself reduced almost to extreme

poverty, in the midst of foreigners, among whom I had not one

acquaintance to advise or befriend me. My uncle was sensible of my

forlorn condition, and pressed me to accompany him to England, where he

did not doubt of finding some sort of provision for me; but besides the

other reasons I had for avoiding that kingdom, I looked upon it, at

this time, as the worst country in the universe for a poor honest man

to live in; and therefore determined to remain in France, at all

events.

I was confirmed in this resolution by a reverend priest, who, passing

by at this time, and overhearing us speak English, accosted us in the

same language, telling us he was our countryman, and wishing it might

be in his power to do us any service. We thanked this grave person for

his courteous offer, and invited him to drink a glass with us, which he

did not think proper to refuse, and we went altogether into a tavern of

his recommending. After having drunk to our healths in a bumper of good

Burgundy, he began to inquire into our situation, particularly the

place of our nativity, which we no sooner named than he started up,

and, wringing our hands with great fervour, shed a flood of tears,

crying, “I come from the same part of the country! perhaps you are my

own relations.” I was on my guard against his caresses, which I

suspected very much, when I remembered the adventure of the

money-dropper; but, without any appearance of diffidence, observed,

that, as he was born in that part of the country, he must certainly

know our families, which (howsoever mean our present appearance might

be) were none of the most obscure or inconsiderable. Then I discovered

our names, to which I found he was no stranger; he had known my

grandfather personally; and, notwithstanding an absence of fifty years

from Scotland, recounted so many particulars of the families in the

neighbourhood, that my scruples were entirely removed, and I thought

myself happy in his acquaintance. In the course of our conversation, I

disclosed my condition without reserve, and displayed my talents to

such advantage, that the old father looked upon me with admiration, and

assured me, that, if I stayed in France, and listened to reason, I

could not fail of making my fortune, to which he would contribute all

in his power.

My uncle began to be jealous of the Priest’s insinuation, and very

abruptly declared, that if ever I should renounce my religion, he would

break off all connection and correspondence with me; for it was his

opinion, that no honest man would swerve from his principles in which

he was bred, whether Turkish, Protestant, or Roman. The father,

affronted at this declaration, with great vehemence began a long

discourse, setting forth the danger of obstinacy, and shutting one’s

eyes against the light. He said, that ignorance would be no plea

towards justification, when we had opportunities of being better

informed; and, that, if the minds of people had not been open to

conviction, the Christian religion could not have been propagated in

the world, and we should now be in a state of Pagan darkness and

barbarity: he endeavoured to prove, by some texts of Scripture and many

quotations from the Fathers, that the Pope was the successor of St.

Peter, and vicar of Jesus Christ; that the church of Rome was the true,

holy, catholic church; and that the Protestant faith was an impious

heresy and damnable schism, by which many millions of souls would

suffer everlasting perdition. When he had finished his sermon, which I

thought he pronounced with more zeal than discretion, he addressed

himself to my uncle, desired to know his objections to what had been

said. The lieutenant, whose attention had been wholly engrossed by his

own affairs, took the pipe out of his mouth, and replied, “As for me,

friend, d’ye see, I have no objection to what you say; it may be either

truth or false, for what I know; I meddle with nobody’s affairs but my

own; the gunner to his linstock, and the steersman to the helm, as the

saying is. I trust to no creed but the compass, and do unto every man

as I would be done by; so that I defy the Pope, the Devil, and the

Pretender; and hope to be saved as well as another.” This association

of persons gave great offence to the friar, who protested, in a mighty

passion, that if Mr. Bowling had not been his countryman, he would have

caused him to be imprisoned for his insolence; I ventured to disapprove

of my uncle’s rashness, and appeased the old gentleman, by assuring him

there was no offence intended by my kinsman, who, by this time sensible

of his error, shook the injured party by the hand, and asked pardon for

the freedom he had taken. Matters being amicably compromised, he

invited us to come and see him in the afternoon at the convent to which

he belonged, and took his leave for the present; when my uncle

recommended it strongly to me to persevere in the religion of my

forefathers, whatever advantages might propose to myself by a change,

which could not fail of disgracing myself, and dishonouring my family.

I assured him no consideration would induce me to forfeit his

friendship and good opinion on that score; at which assurance he

discovered great satisfaction, and put me in mind of dinner, which we

immediately bespoke, and when it was ready, ate together.

I imagined my acquaintance with the Scottish priest if properly

managed, might turn out to my advantage, and therefore resolved to

cultivate it as much as I could. With this view we visited him at his

convent, according to his invitation, where he treated us with wine and

sweetmeats, and showed us everything that was remarkable in the

monastery. Having been thus entertained, we took our leave, though not

before I had promised to see him next day, and the time fixed for my

uncle’s embarking being come, I accompanied him to the harbour, and saw

him on board. We parted not without tears, after we had embraced and

wished one another all manner of prosperity: and he entreated me to

write to him often, directing to Lieutenant Bowling, at the sign of the

Union Flag, near the Hermitage, London.

I returned to the house in which we had met, where I passed the night

in a very solitary manner, reflecting on the severity of my fate, and

endeavouring to project some likely scheme of life for the future; but

my invention failed me; I saw nothing but insurmountable difficulties

in my way, and was ready to despair at the miserable prospect! That I

might not, however, neglect any probable reason, I got up in the

morning, and went directly to the father, whose advice and assistance I

implored. He received me very kindly, and gave me to understand, that

there was one way of life in which a person of my talents could not

fail of making a great figure. I guessed his meaning, and told him,

once for all, I was fully determined against any alteration in point of

religion; therefore if his proposal regarded the church, he might save

himself the trouble of explaining it. He shook his head and sighed,

saying, “Ah! son, son, what a glorious prospect is here spoiled by your

stubborn prejudice! Suffer yourself to be persuaded by reason, and

consult your temporal welfare, as well as the concerns of your eternal

soul. I can, by my interest procure your admission as a noviciate to

this convent, where I will superintend and direct you with a truly

paternal affection.” Then he launched out into the praises of a

monastic life, which no noise disturbs, no cares molest, and no danger

invades—where the heart is weaned from carnal attachments, the grosser

appetite subdued and chastised, and the soul wafted to divine regions

of philosophy and truth, on the wing of studious contemplation. But his

eloquence was lost upon me, whom two considerations enabled to

withstand his temptation; namely, my promise to my uncle, and my

aversion to an ecclesiastical life; for as to the difference of

religion, I looked upon it as a thing of too small moment to come in

competition with a man’s fortune. Finding me immovable on this head, he

told me, he was more sorry than offended at my noncompliance, and still

ready to employ his good offices in my behalf. “The same erroneous

maxims,” said he, “that obstruct your promotion in the church, will

infallibly prevent your advancement in the army; but, if you can brook

the condition of a servant, I am acquainted with some people of rank at

Versailles, to whom I can give you letters of recommendation, that you

may be entertained by some one of them in quality of maitre d’hotel;

and I do not doubt that your qualifications will soon entitle you to a

better provision.” I embraced his offer with great eagerness, and he

appointed me to come back in the afternoon, when he would not only give

me letters, but likewise introduce me to a capuchin of his

acquaintance, who intended to set out for Paris next morning in whose

company I might travel, without being at the expense of one livre

during the whole journey. This piece of good news gave me infinite

pleasure; I acknowledged my obligation to the benevolent father in the

most grateful expressions; and he performed his promise to a tittle, in

delivering the letters, and making me acquainted with the capuchin,

with whom I departed next morning by break of day.

It was not long before I discovered my fellow traveller to be a merry

facetious fellow, who, notwithstanding his profession and appearance of

mortification, loved good eating and drinking better than his rosary,

and paid more adoration to a pretty girl than to the Virgin Mary, or

St. Genevieve. He was a thick brawny young man, with red eyebrows, a

hook nose, a face covered with freckles; and his name was Frere

Balthazar. His order did not permit him to wear linen, so that, having

little occasion to undress himself, he was none of the cleanliest

animals in the world; and his constitution was naturally so strongly

scented that I always thought it convenient to keep to the windward of

him in our march. As he was perfectly well known on the road, we fared

sumptuously without any cost, and the fatigue of our journey was much

alleviated by the good humour of my companion, who sang an infinite

number of catches on the subjects of love and wine. We took up our

lodging the first night at a peasant’s house not far from Abbeville,

where we were entertained with an excellent ragout, cooked by our

landlord’s daughters, one of whom was very handsome. After having eaten

heartily and drank a sufficient quantity of small wine, we were

conducted to a barn, where we found a couple of carpets spread upon

clean straw for our reception. We had not lain in this situation above

half-an-hour, when we heard somebody knock softly at the door, upon

which Balthazar got up, and let in our host’s two daughters, who wanted

to have some private conversation with him in the dark. When they had

whispered together some time, the capuchin came to me, and asked if I

was insensible to love, and so hard-hearted as to refuse a share of my

bed to a pretty maid who had a tendre for me? I must own to my shame,

that I suffered myself to be overcome by my passion, and with great

eagerness seized the occasion, when I understood that the amiable

Nanette was to be my bedfellow. In vain did my reason suggest the

respect that I owed to my dear mistress Narcissa; the idea of that

lovely charmer rather increased than allayed the ferment of my spirits;

and the young paysanne had no reason to complain of my remembrance.

Early in the morning, the kind creatures left us to our repose, which

lasted till eight o’clock when we got up, and were treated at breakfast

with chocolate and l’eau-de-vie by our paramours, of whom we took a

tender leave, after my companion had confessed and given them

absolution.

While we proceeded on our journey, the conversation turned upon the

night’s adventure, being introduced by the capuchin, who asked me how I

liked my lodging; I declared my satisfaction, and talked in rapture of

the agreeable Nanette, at which he shook his head, and smiling said,

she was a morceau pour la bonne bouche. “I never valued myself,”

continued he, “upon anything so much as the conquest of Nanette; and,

vanity apart, I have been pretty fortunate in my amours.” This

information shocked me not a little, as I was well convinced of his

intimacy with her sister; and though I did not care to tax him with

downright incest, I professed my astonishment at his last night’s

choice, when, I supposed, the other was at his devotion. To this hint

he answered that, besides his natural complaisance to the sex, he had

another reason to distribute his favours equally between them, namely,

to preserve peace in the family, which could not otherwise be

maintained; that, moreover, Nanette had conceived an affection for me,

and he loved her too well to balk her inclination; more especially,

when he had an opportunity of obliging his friend at the same time. I

thanked him for this instance of his friendship, though I was extremely

disgusted at his want of delicacy, and cursed the occasion that threw

me in his way. Libertine as I was, I could not bear to see a man behave

so wide of the character he assumed. I looked upon him as a person of

very little worth or honesty, and should even have kept a wary eye upon

my pocket, if I had thought he could have had any temptation to steal.

But I could not conceive the use of money to a capuchin, who is

obliged, by the rules of his order, to appear like a beggar, and enjoy

all other necessaries of life gratis; besides, my fellow traveller

seemed to be of a complexion too careless and sanguine to give me any

apprehension on that score; so that I proceeded with great confidence,

in expectation of being soon at my journey’s end.