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presence of genius, tautology of idea as certainly indicates its absence. Dr. Busfield appears never weary of dressing and re-dressing a thought: he will wander a little from it, and when we hope that he has left it, he re-produces it changed, indeed, in appearance, but the same in reality. Tautology of language is still more inexcusable; the former may certainly be imputed to want of talent, but industry and a dictionary are always sufficient to prevent the recurrence of the same mode of expression.

A complete contempt of methodieal arrangement is another characteristic of Dr. Busfield's Sermons. To follow a chain of propositions linked together in such a manner, that to remove one is to destroy the harmony of the whole, and then to arrive at a conclusion, which arises so naturally out of the propositions that it appears their inevitable result, is, with the subject of the present article, impossible; for he invariably displays an indefinite vagueness in his ideas, his sentences are united without any regard either to a pre-concerted plan or to the dictates of regularity, while his inferences are sometimes unfounded, and his conclusions premature. In

addition to this, his periods are very often so long, and his mode of expression so confused, that it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to ascertain his precise meaning. Another defect in his style is the abundant use of interjections, ohs! and ahs! are scattered throughout his discourses in the most wanton profusion.

His illustrations of Scripture seldom present any new or satisfactory solution of what is difficult or obscure. They are usually obtained from the most obvious view of the subject, rarely displaying either research or erudition.

Dr. Busfield has acquired very extensive popularity, which he is principally indebted for to his voice, and the devout earnestness of his manner. His best sermons are simple, natural, and sometimes pathetic; leaving the minds of his hearers so tranquil and satisfied, that they become reconciled to the absence of genius and talent; as, in watching the progress of the stream which spreads fertility over the meadow, we sometimes forget the existence of that unfathomable mass of waters which girdles the globe with its waves. CRITICUS.


THE London newspapers have so much private correspondence from Paris, that the very name at the head of a letter, instead of proving as formerly an incitement to perusal, will deter many from looking at any other part than the date. A sojourner in this capital, who desires to communicate his opinions of the habits and manners of the Parisians, must not, therefore, expect that his subjects will attract notice or command attention. My object is to give a true picture of France and Frenchmen: if my countrymen and fair countrywomen will believe the report of a plain but close observer, they may derive an useful warning against the follies and vices of a nation which they have, perhaps, been taught to envy, and learn to appreciate the honest bluntness of an Englishman, the liberty of the

subject, and the striking comforts of Jolin Bull's society.


Tourists have described the stage coaches of France, the dress of the inhabitants, and the face of the country. Additional information on this subject would be tedious. Let us briefly attempt to display the French character in the impositions practised upon Englishmen. I landed at Calais in the month of October, and after being hunted and tormented by touters from the different inns-a set of beings who lay hold of the sea-sick traveller as soon as he puts his feet upon the pier, I was dragged to the Hotel de Bourbon, not, however, without having first been forced into the bureau of the custom-house, to undergo a rigorous search. My pockets were turned

table d'hote; the landlord, however, has a knack of sporting good fish with bad French sauce, and then attempting to persuade his guests that the English are fools to eat boiled fish with plain melted butter. At this inn I was charged about 15 or 20 cents higher than I should have been in the principal inn of a good country town in England, where I should have had some comforts. Here, though the weather was very cold, there was no fire in the public room; and for a few pieces of wood, which I one day burnt in my bed-room, I was charged 2s. 6d.

out, and even my bat underwent a close examination. Whether the douaniers expected to find a piece of calico in my pockets, or a sixtythree yard piece of dimity in my hat, I know not. At the Hotel de Bourbon we had a very good dinner; for which, without wine, we paid 3s. 4d. each; and on the following morning, when I called for my bill, I found the charge equal to that of the first houses in England; besides a gross imposition in the shape of commissionaires, passports, and porters. At Boulogne, where I stopped two or three days, the charges were a little more moderate, the comforts at the inns more numerous, and the people of the place, generally speaking, less rapacious; yet, although provisions are very cheap in Boulogne, the inn-bills are nearly quite as high as in England. From Boulogne I proceeded to Abbeville, which is about 80 miles from Calais. Here I had a beefsteak, or as the French call it, biftek, for breakfast; for which, and a cup of coffee, I was charged 2s. 6d. Disliking the miserable road from Abbeville to Paris direct, I took a place in the diligence from Abbeville to Dieppe, a distance of 40 miles, for which I only paid 7s. The same distance on the direct road, where the English travel, would have been about 10s. At Dieppe I dined at the table d'hote of the inn where I stopped. There were nime of us at table; we had soup, bouilli, a roasted leg of mutton, and a few apples and walnuts for desert. The charge was 3 francs, or 2s. 6d. each. The charge for a bad bed in a dirty bed-room here, as at the other inns on the roads frequented by the English, is 3 francs. Dieppe is a dirty town, famous for good fish and ugly women. It is now a fashionable watering place, and there are several handsome baths, which have been recently erected by subscription. Their Royal Highnesses the Duchess of Angouleme and the Duchess of Berri, being the principal subscribers.

The inside fare by the coach to Rouen, nearly 40 miles, is 8 francs, and one franc to the conductor. The journey is performed in about six hours, through a most delightful country. At Rouen I put up at an Hotel, where there was a good

From Rouen I went to Evreux, a place but little known by the English. Being dressed in the French style, and speaking French well, for I was partly brought up in France, I was either taken for a Frenchman, or the people of the inn had the honesty not to cheat me, however, I was an Englishman. ‹ Í here found the difference between the charges to English and French travellers. At Rouen my daily expense was as follows:


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4 francs and a half; far better accommodation than at Rouen, Calais, Dieppe, &c. where I paid more than double. Last year I was travelling with some friends in the south of France, where wine was at 2d. a bottle, and meat at 24d. per lb. The honest innkeepers, however, charged 4, 5, and 6 francs a head for a bad dinner; at one place we were charged 7 francs a head for soup and boiled pigeons. Afterwards I made it a rule, on entering an inn, to desire the landlord to provide us a good dinner, for which we would pay 3 francs a head, and I found much better treatment when I had

once shewn them that I was not to be imposed upon. It is very repugnant to an Englishman, however, to bargain for what he is to eat and drink. He generally submits to the grossest impositions in France, in preference to being made uncomfortable by disputes about the charges. I paid 6 francs by the diligence, as it is miscalled, from Rouen to Evreux, and 3 francs and 12 sous from Evreux to Rolleboise; the travelling was at the rate of three miles an hour. At Rolleboise I took the passage-boat to Poissy, the cabin fare is 25 sous, the distance about 26 miles. I was in a part of the vessel called the traveure, which being 30 sous, there were seldom many persons in it. The French would deny themselves many comforts to save 5 sous. We were three in the traveure, the state cabin, filled with clean straw, with a candle burning in a piece of a wood nailed to the partition: the place was clean, and I slept well. At Poissy, where we arrived at five in the morning, I took a place in one of the short stages to Paris, at the regular fare, 30 sous. The French passengers, who bargained for their places, came for 25, 20, and some for 15 sous each. I reached Paris at ten o'clock in the morning. The journey would have been very pleasant in an English carriage, but in a French diligence, shut up with people who were rather frowsy, it is not over delightful.


THE FRENCH CHARACTER. We overtook on the road from Calais to Abbeville a French postillion with five horses, returning to the post-house. He stopped at a cabaret to take la goutte; one of his horses exhausted with fatigue laid down before the door in the mud. The brute with two legs forced up the animal; and,enraged at seeing the dirty state that it was in, beat it most severely. He went into the house for a moment, and then returned to beat it again; he went away again, and returned in less than five minutes to renew the beating: the poor animal stood patiently and tremblingly before the brute, who called himself a Christian. The humility of the beast would have

disarmed the rage of a cannibal, not so of one Frenchman; when he had beaten the horse until his whip was broken, he kicked its forelegs with all the force in his power; whilst the villain kicked in his tremendous boots, another scoundrel who came by got off his horse, and taking his whip began to beat the poor horse. more severely even than the other tormentor. I remonstrated, but was answered by insult; at that moment I wished myself a tyrant, above the law, that I might have blown the scoundrel's brains out.

At Evreux, in Normandy, some Frenchmen who were going to Paris were talking about the expenses of living in that capital. One of them said, that 10 francs a day were necessary; another denied this, observing, that so much was not to be spent in necessaries. I speak only of the "stricte necessaire," replied the first, and then enumerated as follows: 2 francs for breakfast, 3 francs for dinner, 2 francs for the play, 2 francs for lodgings, and 1 franc for servants. These men came in the same conveyance with me to Paris. He, who had spoken of the 2 francs for the play as "stricte necessaire," had a good deal of luggage; a half-starved porter,-here were at least a dozen such,-ran up to the coach; the French gentleman shewed him his luggage, and asked him how much he would expect for carrying it to a distant part of Paris. The poor fellow, anxious for a job, said 10d.; the gentleman said it was enormous, and offered half; the porter appealed to his humanity: "I have eaten nothing, Sir, since yesterday; I have a wife and three children starving at home, give me at least 15 sous (74d.)" The appeal was useless; bread for a poor fellow, and a wife, and three children, was not" strictly necessary:" a Parisian cannot afford to go to the play, and at the same time to be just and charitable.


It has been observed by a German author, that the only modest women in France are the women of the town, and really I begin to be of the same opinion. I could adduce at least a hundred instances, to shew how im modest are that class of females


Sketches of Frances

which, in England, constitute the pleasure and delight of society: but I must not offend English modesty by the recital. The little that I may relate will prove the superiority of our fair countrywomen. A French woman always calls things by their vulgar names; she is not particular as to exposing her person. If nature requires her to withdraw to a spot which, in England, is clean and retired, she makes no scruple of leaving those with whom she may be, and in their sight, by the side of the road, doing that which, with us, is always private.-She will come into a stranger's room when he is naked, and ask an acquaintance, of short standing, to tie her garter; and these are the French elegantes, whose manners are admired by some of our English tourists. I have often heard French women praised for walking clean in the dirty streets of Paris, but I would rather see a sister of mine come into the house with draggled tail, than with clean shoes and stockings, which have been preserved from dirt by drawing the petticoats round the knee, and exposing the leg to every pas



I do not dislike the French because they dance or go to the play. They may do both innocently, if they chuse, but I think it would be more to their credit to make plays and balls matters of relaxation from serious and important duties. They have, however, some amusements of a dangerous tendency-men and women go to gaming-houses, where they may stake from 5d. to 5001. These Hells are licenced by the police, and the Government make depravity of morals a source of emolument. A butcher's son in the Rue St. Honoré, in a fit of despair, threw himself, about four months ago, out of the window of a gaming-house in the Palais Royal, and was dashed to pieces. At least, one hundred persons drown or hang themselves in Paris in the course of a year, after having ruined themselves in gaming-houses or in the lottery. The first lotteries known in France were for cakes and sweetmeats. Cardinal Mazarine, when the Government was very poor, had

a quantity of shewy jewellery, of low intrinsic value, manufactured and put up to lottery, and, by degrees, it was made a money scheme:

Fifty or sixty years ago, it was the rage in convents. Nine nuns, in a nunnery near Paris, drew for ten abbés as bed-fellows; eight of the nuns had each an abbé, and a ninth had two fall to her share. In the present lotteries, there are tickets to be had at as low a price as 5d.It is not an uncommon thing for a mechanic to pawn his working tools to procure a lottery ticket.


We must not be astonished, that the police of Paris is a very rigid one, and that a great number of spies are retained in the service of the Government. There is no other way of supporting the present Dynasty. At the best, and under a favourite monarch, the French are a turbulent set of people, and cannot be restrained by ordinary means. How difficult, then, is it to keep them in subjection to a government, for which they have an inherent dislike. The number of spies in Paris is incredible. An English physician related a circumstance to me yesterday, which may give some idea of the extent to which the system is carried. He was, not long ago, in a

reading-room looking at a newspaper; an English gentleman of sus picious character, who was sitting at the same table, entered into conversation with him on politics. The Englishman, in the course of a few minutes, became so violent in his invectives against the French Goverament, that the Doctor, half alarmed and half indignant, said aloud, "Sir, I desire you to recollect, that we are both here by permission of, and under the protection of that Government, against which you inveigh; and, I think, it does not become either of us to interfere with French politics." The Englishman was disconcerted, and withdrew. As, soon as he had left the room, a marine officer, upon halfpay, who was one of a groupe of seven, came up to the Doctor, and taking off his hat said, in a low tone, "Sir, I congratulate you upon the proper and spirited manner in

which you have acted. The gentle men whom you saw with me are spies of that Government, and I am also one, my half-pay being inadequate to my support. The Englishman who spoke to you is also a spy; you were marked out by him as a fit subject to be entrapped; I rejoice that you have escaped so honourably."The officer instantly took his leave, refusing to accept an invitation to dinner which the physician gave him. During the last two months, the spies have kept a very watchful eye opon new comers. The hotel keepers are now bound, not only to enquire the age, profession, and usual place of residence of every guest, but also his business in Paris, which is to be entered into a book supplied by the Government, and to which the police have constant access. There is quite as much, and even more severity with the natives. When a Frenchman from the country comes to Paris to settle, he must first procure from the Commissary of Police of the quarter where he resides, a permis de sejour for one month, if he intends to remain in Paris so long; then, if he wishes to fix himself in the capital, a carte de surete for three months, which may be renewed for six, and then for twelve months. At the end of this period, if he has behaved well, he need go no more to the Commissary for permission to take up his residence in Paris. Before a Frenchman can obtain a passport for England, he is obliged to state what business he has there; and if he is unable to bring reasonable proof of the correctness of his assertion, the passport is refused. Since Mr. Bowring's business, the police watch the English very closely.


There are nearly twice as many theatres in Paris as in London; and at this season of the year they are always crowded. A good deal has been said by Englishmen about the low prices of admission at the French theatres, but really I do not find them so very much below those in London. At the principal theatres here you must pay 7 or 8 francs for the best places, and at the minor theatres 4 or 5 francs for the genteel part of the house. The performers at

the minor theatres here, however, are very superior to those in similar places of entertainment in England. There was an English theatre here, but that is closed. The manager was silly enough, a few months ago, to bring a strolling English company to Paris to act Shakspeare's plays at the theatre of the Porte St. Martin, a place frequented by that description of Parisians remarkable,by want of education, for rancorous hostility to the English. The English manager played but twice, and some of his company were nearly killed in a disgraceful riot of the audience. He then opened a small theatre by subscription. He says the French supported him better than the English. It was some consolation to have the villainy of one part of the French public atoned for by the generosity of another part. There is a

good regulation here in the theatres. As persons come to the doors, they take their places in succession. There is no pushing and driving. He who comes last takes the last place. The geus-d'armes take care that a stout brawny-armed fellow, who came an hour later than those in front of him does not force his way into a better place. "A la queue,' says the gen-darme, and few resist the mandate. Those who refuse are sent to the guard-house, or well beaten with the flat part of a sword. I have known a red-hot play-goer, who stood behind, wait for two hours, and when he got to the pay door learn that the house was already full. The queue, or tail, which is a line of persons never more than two or three abreast waiting for admission, extends sometimes two hun dred yards at the minor theatres on the Boulevards.


The King is a very well-meaning sort of man; fat and good-natured. He goes out in great state whenever he leaves his palace; and the Princes and Princesses are equally particular in cutting a splendid figure. Those who have seen our Heir Presumptive driving about in his cabriolet, and our Princesses shopping in a plain chariot, will be displeased to learn, that a French Prince or Princess never goes out without a military guard, gallopping through the

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