[ 10 ] [JAN. 



TRAVELLING PART1CU L AlU'l'IKS I 

 No. II. 



Calais, Sept. 1, 1827. 



IN my last I promised to complete my picture of Calais, by a glance at 

 its means of amusement. They are slender enough to be sure, if they 

 are to be measured by those of Paris or London. But the truth is, 

 Time may be killed with more or less difficulty, according to the strength 

 we suffer him to acquire, and his consequent influence and command 

 over us. In Paris and London he is immortal lying perdu, however, 

 under the alias of ennui. In those places we are for ever combatting 

 him, with weapons of all possible descriptions, from the club of Hercules 

 to the distaff of Omphale : and yet he lives and triumphs over us still. 

 But en province it is different. There, a billiard ball, however awk- 

 wardly projected, upsets him in a moment ; the rattle of a dice-box on a 

 backgammon-board scares him away like a " guilty thing" (as he is) ; 

 as for a dance on the green sward, he dares not come within the sound of 

 its music ; and a shot at a partridge, even if it miss its mark, kills him on 

 the spot. The theatre of Calais is not a San Carlos; its " Vauxhall" is 

 innocent of " dark walks," and very sparingly furnished with light ones ; 

 the admission money to the most recherches of its bals pares does not 

 exceed twenty sous for " Cavalier et Dame ;" its public promenades are 

 confined to the wooden pier, where you are in momentary danger of 

 being pitched into the sea by the winds ; and the market-place, where 

 you are equally at the mercy of the sun over head, and the knubby stones 

 under foot : and as for private parties, dedicated to the delights of tea and 

 tittle-tattle you might as soon expect to be asked to a christening at the 

 North Pole. And yet, I will venture to say, that ennui is utterly unknown 

 here, except as a traveller to and fro, in English landaus, and German 

 caleches, where he sits snugly installed in the vacant corner, visible 

 enough to all but the unhappy patient, whom he is staring full in the 

 face, and who has come all this way from home on purpose to avoid 

 him. The reason is, that, like food and population, our imaginary wants 

 increase in a " geometrical ratio" to our means of supplying them, and 

 we grow poor in the one in proportion as we wax rich in the other. 



But a truce to reflection and philosophy. I promised (myself), at the 

 outset of these letters, that I would, for once, utterly eschew the entice- 

 ments of the above-named syrens, and confine myself to facts and descrip- 

 tions alone leaving you to draw inferences, and form opinions, for your- 

 selves. This, you are to observe, is what I propose and intend to do, 

 during our future communications together. But I have so long been 

 accustomed to throw the bridle upon the neck of my pen, and let it 

 wander at its own free will through whatever flowery fields, green lanes, 

 and pathless commons, it could make its way into, that it can hardly be 

 expected to take very kindly to the turnpike track of mere truth, or the 

 iron rail-road of regular description. Whenever, therefore, it does 

 chance to wander into any of the by-ways in which it has hitherto been 

 permitted to disport itself, you will be kind enough to accept whatever 

 it may happen to pick up there (fruit, flowers, or mere weeds, as the 

 case may be), as a sort of blessing, over and above what is your due, as per 

 agreement between us. In a word, though all that I engage to supply you 

 with, in regard to the places I may visit in my desultory wanderings, is that 

 plain, positive, and complete information which (we have so long agreed 



