the Time I was at Paris I had fo much Sicknefs, that that might well fuperfede any Obligation I laid under: for let a Promise be never fo binding, and never so much a Debt, who could take care of paying fo trifling a one, when a moft severe and importunate Creditor, Nature, calls for her's? Nor now, when at length that Excufe is wanting to me, are you like to receive fuch a Letter, as perhaps might be most welcome to you in this Conjuncture. For if I fhould. fend you the Truth in difguife, perhaps you might not discover her. And is this a Time to expofe her naked to the World, when her Nakedness, which is only the Effect of her Innocence, by many would be miftaken for Lewdnefs, and by more for Barbarity? I will then fay nothing of the Affairs of Europe, nor ours, though I could find much to fay of them both, for now I converse with a People who are as full of Talk as they are inquifitive. But fince I am taking my Leave of that People, I will confine my Difcourfe to them.

But before I begin I will ufe plain Dealing with you (a Thing which they never did yet with any one) and tell you that I mortally hate them.

Yet never fhall my native nor acquir❜d Antipathy fuborn me to fay any thing that is falfe of them. I will do like a Painter, who will draw the true Refemblance of the Face that is most provoking. But then I must give you this Caution, that what I have to fay, though it be true, in fome measure, of all of them, yet it is chiefly to be confined to the middle Sort of the Nation; for befides, that I have most converfed with them, as a Stranger muft of Neceffity be

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forced to do, the Genius of a Nation moft plainly appears in the middle Sort of its People ; for great Education, which attends high Birth, or high Fortune, very often improves, or corrupts, or fophifticates Nature; whilft in those of the middle State the remains unmixed and unaltered.

These then I have found in the first Place exceffively vain. Every Man here is a Narciffus, and in the Flattering-glafs of his own falfe Imagination, is eternally gazing upon himself; or at leaft upon what he takes upon himself. For in this their Errors are different; for as that melancholy Boy took himself for another, these merry Fools take fomething else for themselves: for nothing in Nature is more unlike, than the Picture which a Frenchman draws of himself.

It would be needlefs to infift longer on this, for they have fo long made Sport for their neighbouring Nations, by extravagant and abfurd Commendations of their own, that to endeavour to bring Proofs of their Vanity would be something more ridiculous than that. Now this is certain, that he who abounds in Vanity can want no Affectation for Affectation is nothing but a fruitless Attempt to counterfeit and falfify Nature.

For when a Man impotently endeavours to appear what he really is not, or what he is incapable of being, Nature grows impatient, and ftruggles to be freed from the Conftraint that is put upon her; and in the Strife there appears fomething fo odious, that all who are Lovers of her cannot but hate the Perfon who endeavours fo rudely to force her. Now Nature in Man is various; fhe is gay in one, and froward in another; fhe is delicate in a Third, in a Fourth fhe is grofs, and there is not a Man in a Million, whom

whom Heaven made fit for all things, and will be offering at all things. Now fuch have been always, and will be always affected and fuch are the People with whom I have lately converfed; and I have more particularly remarked in some of their Provincial Gentlemen, that in their Endeavours to fhew their Admiration mingled with a gentle Paffion, they are guilty of Affectations fo monftrous, that an English Fop is not capable of them.

Another neceffary Effect of their Vanity is their Affurance, or in our Language, their Impudence; for Modefty is nothing but the Fear of difpleafing, when a Man believes, or at least fufpects, that he is defective, which is the Reason that renders it lovely to all, whenever it is joined with good Qualities. For it flatters and fooths our Self-love, of which no Man can wholly diveft himself, by afluring us that we are efteemed and preferred. Now how can any one have Fear of displeasing, who imagines himfelf all Perfection, and who, fwell'd with the Venom of Pride, like the Toad in the Fable, believes himself greater than thofe, with whose Greatnefs he holds not the leaft Proportion.

The French then are affected and impudent, which are but the neceffary Effects of that national Vice, their Vanity. But then they have one very good Quality, which proceeds from the fame Vanity. And that is their extraordinary Civility to Strangers. For they are civil to us, not for our Satisfaction, but their own; not as they imagine it a Duty, but an Accomplishment. 'Tis to please himself, that a Frenchman is officious to me, and tries to honour himself, that he bows to others.

I am pretty confident that I am not deceived here. For I have found by fome Obfervation, and fome Thinking, that there is little Goodnature amongst them; for they will deceive or betray you at the very fame Time they oblige

you.

Thus have I given you an imperfect Account of fuch of their Qualities as are most confpicuous in them: There are some which lie more hidden, but I have faid enough to tire myself and you. Lyons, 15, Octob.

I

Sir,

LETTER

I am Yours, &c.

CII.

A Journey over the Alps.

Here fend you a Journal of my Journey from Lyons hither, in which you will find that Aecount of the Alps, which you fo earnestly defired of me before I came out of England. I have taken no notice of the Towns in Savoy, nor fo much as the Rock of Montmelian, but have confined myself to a Subject you seem to affect so much.

On the 19th of October we fet out from Lyons, and came that Night to Vefpellier, thro' a fair Plain, which was fometimes arable and sometimes Pafture, and bounded with Rows of Hills, at that juft Distance as gave, tho' not a large, an agreeable Profpect.

October 20, we came by Noon thro' the fame Plain, which grew to be fometimes a Marsh to a Bourg called Tour du Pin; from thence after

Dinner we continued our way, thro' whole Groves of Walnut and Chefnut Trees, to Pont Beau Voifin, being the Bridge that separates France and Savoy.

October 21, we enter'd Savoy in the Morning and pafs'd over Mount Aiguebellete. The Af cent was the more eafy, because it wound about the Mountain; but as foon as we had conquer'd one Half of it, the unusual Height in which we found ourselves, the impending Rock that hung over us, the dreadful Depth of the Precipice, and the Torrent that roar'd at the Bottom, gave us fuch a View as was altogether new and amazing.

On the other fide of that Torrent, was a Mountain that equal'd ours, about the Distance of thirty Yards from us: Its craggy Clifts, which we half difcern'd thro' the mifty Gloom of Clouds that furrounded them, fometimes gave us a horrid Prospect, and fometimes its Face appear'd fmooth and beautiful as the most even and fruitful Valley. So different from themselves were the different Parts of it; in the very fame place Nature was feen fevere and wanton. In the mean time we walked upon the very Brink (in a literal Senfe) of Deftruction; one Stumble, and both Life and Carcafs had been at once destroy'd.

The Senfe of all this produc'd different Motions in me, viz. A delightful Horror, a terrible Joy; and at the fame time that I was infinitely pleased, I trembled.

From thence we went thro' a pleasant Valley bounded with high Mountains, whofe high, but yet verdant Tops, feem'd at once to forbid and invite Men. After we had march'd for a League

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