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ART. VIII. New Letters from an English Traveller. Written originally in French, by the Rev. Martin Sherlock, A. M. Chaplain to the Right Hon. the Earl of Bristol. Now tranflated into English by the Author. 8vo. 3 s. fewed. Nichols, &c. 1781.

TH

HIS is not the first time that we have had the honour of introducing this fprightly, rambling Observer, this IrishEnglish Traveller, to the notice of our Readers.

In our Sixty-first volume (Rev. Dec. 1779, p. 461.), we gave a view of Mr. Sherlock's first publication of Letters from an English Traveller;' and on that occafion, we delivered, pretty freely, our opinion of this volatile gentleman's merit as a writer. In our Sixty-third volume (No. for July laft, p. 45), our Readers will find an account of an English tranflation of thofe Letters, from the original French, printed at Geneva: which tranflation, it appears, was not done by Mr. Sherlock himfelf, but by fome perfon unknown to the Author.

The New Letters, now before us, were originally published at Paris, as a Supplement to the first collection; and an account of them was given in the Appendix to our Sixty-fecond volume, p. 548; when we again took occafion to hazard a few remarks on our Author's lively turn, and flighty manner; -to which Article we now refer the curious Reader, who has, probably, forgotten what we then offered on the fubject.

As a fpecimen of Mr. Sherlock's manner of tranflating himself, we shall here transcribe a paffage or two from different parts of the volume:

Speaking of the inexhauftible variety of beauties which Italy. offers to the enraptured eye of the traveller, he obferves that

the lover of natural history, of antiquity, of politics, may find there perpetual enjoyments in the examination of the different governments, of the precious monuments of antiquity, and of the prodigious variety of natural productions. If a hundred men of parts travelled through Italy, if every one of them obferved from himself, and if every one of them wrote a book upon the fubject, they might make a hundred excellent books, of which no two would be alike; and the fubject would be still new. A hundred others who fhould follow them might fay an infinity of true and interefting things which never had been faid before.'

There is no doubt that of an hundred excellent descriptions of fuch a country as Italy (which has made fo great a figure in hiftory, and which ftill continues to ftand as a principal object in the great picture of Europe), no two would be alike; but they would furely exhaust the subject: and it can hardly be expected that half the number would ever procure Readers,- or even Reviewers. We hope the gentlemen will not publish in our time. The following anecdote may be given as a fpecimen of the ftory-telling powers of this ingenious Writer:

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The Count de Peltzer, an officer in the Pruffian fervice, was the only fon of a widow near fixty years old. He was handfome, brave to an excefs, and deeply in love with Mademoifelle de Benskow, She was in her eighteenth year, gentle, pretty, and born with an extreme fenfibility. Her lover, juft turned of twenty, was loved with a paffion equal to his own, and the day was fixed to make them happy. It was the zoth of June, 1778.

The Pruffian troops are always ready to take the field; and the 17th of June, at ten o'clock at night, the Count's regiment received orders to march at midnight for Silefia. He was at Berlin, and his mistress at a country-house four leagues from the town. He fet off confequently without feeing her; and he wrote to her from the first place where he stopped, that it was impoffible for him to live without her; that it was effential to his happiness that the fhould follow him immediately, and that they fhould be married in Silefia. He wrote at the fame time to her brother, who was his most intimate friend, to plead his caufe with her parents. She fet out then accompanied by this brother, and by her lover's mother. Never did the fands of Brandenbourg appear fo heavy as to this charming girl; but at length the journey ended, and the arrived at the town of Herftadt; it was in the morning, and "Never," faid her brother to me, "did my eyes fee a woman lovelier than my fifter: the exerçife of the journey had added to her bloom, and her eyes painted what paffed in her heart." But, O human profpects! how deceitful are you! How near often is the moment of wretchedness to the moment of felicity! The carriage is ftopped to let pafs fome foldiers, who, advancing with flow fteps, bore in their arms a wounded officer. The tender heart of the young lady was affected at the fight: fhe little fufpected that it was her lover.

Some Auftrian foragers had approached this town, and the young Count went out to repulfe them. Burning to diftinguish himself, he rushed with ardour before his troop, and fell the victim of his unhappy impetuofity.

To defcribe to you the fituation of this unfortunate young woman, would be to infult at once your heart and your imagination. Her lover is placed in his bed; his mother is at his feet, and his mistress holds his hand. "O Charlotte," cried he, opening a dying eyehe wanted to fpeak; but his voice broke, and he melted into tears. His tone had pierced the foul of his misftrefs; the loft her reason, and, "No, I will not furvive you," cried fhe, quite frantic, and feizing a fword. They difarmed her; and he made a fign with his hand that they should bring her to his bed-fide. She came; he grafped her arm; and after two painful efforts to speak, he fays with a fob, σε Live, my Charlotte, to comfort my mother," and expires.

P. S. I found this history fo affecting, that it appeared to me to merit a place in my collection; and I believe that every feeling reader will thank me for it. I forgot to tell you, that, in the troop which made that fally, there were but two men wounded, and he alone killed. When I paffed through Berlin, in July, 1779, the unfortunate lady had not recovered her fenfes.'

Our Author's ftory of a young Ruffian traveller fhould be read by the young travellers of all countries:

On

On my arrival at Senlis, at my return from Germany, I faw a genteel young man walking up and down before the gate of the inn. I addreffed him. You feem, Sir, to come from Paris? He did come from Paris, and was returning to his own country, to Petersburg. Pray, Sir, did you ftay long at Paris? Two years. And what do you fay of that country of delights? Of affaffinating delights? replied he. Montefquieu fays, that to make a Ruffian feel, you must flay him; and I thought in my own mind, that this one must have been well flayed *. How did you find the men? Fulfome. The women? Dear. The wits? Gluttons. But why, fays he, make ufe of fuch gentle terms? I have been robbed, betrayed, maffacred. This traveller's heart, faid I to myself, is full; and knowing that a Ruffian and a German talk better after a meal than before it, I invited him to fupper, and he accepted it.

Towards the end of the fupper:

Rufian. You have been at Paris then?
Englishman. A year.

R. Did you know any women there?

• E. Yes; I knew a great many modeft women; and I never was happier than in their company.

R. What, you think the French women amiable?

• E. More amiable and more interefling than the women of any other foreign country I have feen.

R. Sir, you have feen them ill. They are a fet of wicked, bawling, peevish wretches; witty in gewgaws, not a grain of common fenfe, and fo perfidious

E. They treated you ill?

R. Treated me ill! my firft miftrefs made a conqueft of me ten days after my arrival, at a masquerade. She won me by a fingle fpeech; "You are charming." I was then nineteen; fhe was pretty; and this was the first time in my life that a pretty woman hâd faid thofe words to me. When a man fays to a modeft woman once, "I love you," the devil repeats it to her a hundred times. The devil repeated in my ear a thoufand times that I was charming; and on this ground I fell defperately in love. However, I quitted this woman in a fhort time, becaufe, befide that she was very foolish and very tirefome, I felt the neceflity of going out of her hands to go into thofe of a furgeon.

When I mixed with the great world, I related the fuccefs of this amour; and they told me for confolation, that, befide my having been an infipid dupe, I had difhonoured myself by an attachment to a woman who did not belong to any of the theatres. I determined inftantly to repair this fault, and I connected myself immediately with a dancing-girl of the opera. She had the prettieft leg in Paris; a warm Provençal, lively, gay, and cutting capers from morning till night. She had fo many calls on me, I mean for louis-d'ors, that the made me often remember the faying of Marshal Villars to Louis the Fourteenth he wanted but three things, money, money, money. There was no end to her caprices; and, among others, I began to

This is a jeu de mots in the original; as, ecorché fignifies both flayed and plundered.'

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fufpect that she had one for my valet-de-chambre; but the foon cured me of this jealoufy; for one evening, going into her room, I found her in the arms. of a young French officer. I demanded fatisfaction of him on the inftant; and he gave me a thruft here, which put me in the hands of another furgeon for three months.

I returned into the gay world, fully determined to be fage for the future; but they laughed at my fufferings; affured me that I was forming aftonishingly; that I fhould thine amazingly on my return into my own country, even by reciting the difafters that befel me; that there were no rofes without thorns.-Ah! why had I not a friend to tell me, that the rofes wither, and that the thorns remain

E. That the rofes only bloom in the fpring of life, and that the thorns continue during the whole winter?

R. Being then conftantly in the temple of wantonnefs *, I once more yielded, and I took a third miftrefs. For my misfortune, she fung like an angel. If the other had a taper leg, this one's arms were perfect; and when he threw them open to embrace me, finging,

O toi le feul objet que mon cœur ait au monde,

(0 thou fole obje&t of my heart's defire,)

I thought I fhould expire with pleafure. She was at once a Siren and a Circe; a dying eye, a beautiful skin, an enchanting fweetnefs, and an air of modefty that would have deceived Ulyffes. Her mother had been a dancer, and Mifs was born behind the fcenes; and from her infancy had learned to dance, to fing, to receive her mama's vifitors, and to be prefent at their fuppers. She had every thing in her favour; birth, education, example, precept, experience, and I was in my twentieth year.

She

As fhe had been regularly bred, fhe applied herself seriously to ruin me. The fummit of art is to conceal art, and my mistress had attained this laft degree of perfection. All her artifices were imperceptible, and it is only by reflecting on them in my melancholy retreat thefe eight months paft, that I have difcovered them. faw that I was distrustful, and the never praifed me. Did I look as if I thought I had faid fomething clever? She applauded it only by a fcarce-perceivable fmile, which gave a brightnefs to her eye, and made her appear at once beautiful and fincere. All my tales were confulted and anticipated. It was a continual round of gaiety, agreeableness, and variety; public places, fuppers of girls and of wits, concerts, cards--She feemed to think only of me, and this appearance was real,

The mother did not fail to praise daily the merits of her daughter; nor to seafon her panegyric with the bittereft farcafms against her fifters of the opera. My Sophy," faid fhe, "is not like those wretched women that you fee, who are all-who

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She is difcreet and gentle, and, thank God, educated in the right way." I am perfuaded that he was difcreet, for the poffeffed perfectly the genius of her trade, and thought folely of making her fortune.

*At the Green-room of the Opera.'

. E.

E. She coft you then a great deal of money? R. This it was that began to embarrass me. I had already got into debt, for I no longer dared to ask money of my father, who had complained heavily of my extravagance, and threatened to fend me no more fupplies. I mentioned this one day to my mistress; "What fignifies that?" replied the," I have enough for us both;" and saying these words, fhe went to her defk with a grace that I fhall never forget, and took out of it a purfe of a hundred louis, which he put into my hand, giving me at the fame time a moft delicious kifs. • E. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.

(I fear a Girl and a Greek when they make prefents.)

R. I had forgot Virgil; my mistress had found me other studies I was affected by her behaviour and her kifs, and these words,

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fung with an expreffion that I cannot defcribe, appeared to me to contain fo delicious a fentiment, and so just reasoning, that I thought no more either of my father or my creditors.

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• The Provençal ruined me without thinking of any thing but her pleasures. This Parifian had no caprices, and had but one marked paffion; that was avarice. I gave her willingly, because fhe never afked any thing, but let all appear the effect of my liberality. Her mother, indeed, praised generosity a good deal. She had even reduced the four cardinal virtues to this fingle one; and at Christmas fhe proved to me that I ought to give her daughter a diamond necklace, for her new-year's gift. This was a ferious affair; the price was thirty thoufand livres. Milord -, he told me, had given one to his mistress, who received three or four other men every day. The German Baron that I knew had also commanded one for his; a creature without fentiment, of a deplorable conduct; but who, however, deserved to be paid by her lover, because he killed her with ennui. At length fhe fhewed me, that the honour of Ruffia was concerned in it. I could not refift this argument, and I gave her the necklace without paying for it.

• I continued to labour gaily according to the maxim of my tender fair one, when my father-but, perhaps, I tire you

E. No, Sir, you intereft me much.

R. I have only a word to add: my father not chufing any longer to fupport my extravagance, ceafed to fupply me with money; and when it was clear that I had no more resources, the mask fell off, the prostitute remained, and the enchantress became a fury. After a most violent scene, of which I fpare you the particulars, the fhut the door in my face; and I have learned fince, that, to get completely rid of me, the advised the jeweller, who furnished the necklace, to have me put in prison; and I am just now come out of Fort l'Evêque,, where I remained eight months.'

Mr. Sherlock's reflection on the young Ruffian's unhappy adventures is very juft: It were to be wifhed, fays he, that a victim of this fort were placed at all the gates of Paris, to make

Let us labour gaily, and Love will fupply the place of money.?
a lively

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