Produced by David Widger
By Anthony Hamilton
The nearer the Chevalier de Grammont approached the court of France, themore did he regret his absence from that of England.
A thousand different thoughts occupied his mind upon the journey:Sometimes he reflected upon the joy and satisfaction his friends andrelations would experience upon his return; sometimes upon thecongratulations and embraces of those who, being neither the one nor theother, would, nevertheless, overwhelm him with impertinent compliments:All these ideas passed quickly through his head; for a man deeply in lovemakes it a scruple of conscience not to suffer any other thoughts todwell upon his mind than those of the object beloved. It was then thetender, endearing remembrance of what he had left in London that divertedhis thoughts from Paris; and it was the torments of absence thatprevented his feeling those of the bad roads and the bad horses. Hisheart protested to Miss Hamilton, between Montreuil and Abbeville that heonly tore himself from her with such haste, to return the sooner; afterwhich, by a short reflection, comparing the regret he had formerly feltupon the same road, in quitting France for England, with that which henow experienced, in quitting England for France, he found the last muchmore insupportable than the former.
It is thus that a man in love entertains himself upon the road; orrather, it is thus that a trifling writer abuses the patience of hisreader, either to display his own sentiments, or to lengthen out atedious story; but God forbid that this character should apply toourselves, since we profess to insert nothing in these memoirs, but whatwe have heard from the mouth of him whose actions and sayings we transmitto posterity.
Who, except Squire Feraulas, has ever been able to keep a register of allthe thoughts, sighs, and exclamations, of his illustrious master? For myown part, I should never have thought that the attention of the Count deGrammont, which is at present so sensible to inconveniences and dangers,would have ever permitted him to entertain amorous thoughts upon theroad, if he did not himself dictate to me what I am now writing.
But let us speak of him at Abbeville. The postmaster was his oldacquaintance: His hotel was the best provided of any between Calais andParis; and the Chevalier de Grammont, alighting, told Termes he woulddrink a glass of wine during the time they were changing horses. It wasabout noon; and, since the preceding night, when they had landed atCalais, until this instant, they had not eat a single mouthful. Termes,praising the Lord, that natural feelings had for once prevailed over theinhumanity of his usual impatience, confirmed him as much as possible insuch reasonable sentiments.
Upon their entering the kitchen, where the Chevalier generally paid hisfirst visit, they were surprised to see half a dozen spits loaded withgame at the fire, and every other preparation for a magnificententertainment. The heart of Termes leaped for joy: he gave privateorders to the hostler to pull the shoes off some of the horses, that hemight not be forced away from this place before he had satisfied hiscraving appetite.
Soon after, a number of violins and hautboys, attended