University of Virginia Library

TO MISS LUCY CRANCH.

I promised to write to you from the Hague, but
your uncle's unexpected arrival at London prevented

me. Your uncle purchased an excellent travelling
coach in London, and hired a post-chaise for our
servants. In this manner we travelled from London
to Dover, accommodated through England with the
best of horses, postilions, and good carriages;
clean, neat apartments, genteel entertainment, and
prompt attendance. But no sooner do you cross
from Dover to Calais, than every thing is reversed,
and yet the distance is very small between them.

The cultivation is by no means equal to that of
England; the villages look poor and mean, the
houses all thatched, and rarely a glass window in
them; their horses, instead of being handsomely
harnessed, as those in England are, have the appearance
of so many old cart-horses. Along you
go, with seven horses tied up with ropes and chains,
rattling like trucks; two ragged postilions, mounted,
with enormous jack-boots, add to the comic
scene. And this is the style in which a duke or a
count travels through this kingdom. You inquire of
me how I like Paris. Why, they tell me I am no
judge, for that I have not seen it yet. One thing,
I know, and that is that I have smelt it. If I was
agreeably disappointed in London, I am as much
disappointed in Paris. It is the very dirtiest place
1 ever saw. There are some buildings and some
squares, which are tolerable; but in general the
streets are narrow, the shops, the houses, inelegant
and dirty, the streets full of lumber and stone, with
which they build. Boston cannot boast so elegant
public buildings; but, in every other respect, it is as

much superior in my eyes to Paris, as London is to
Boston. To have had Paris tolerable to me, I should
not have gone to London. As to the people here,
they are more given to hospitality than in England,
it is said. I have been in company with but one
French lady since I arrived; for strangers here
make the first visit, and nobody will know you until
you have waited upon them in form.

This lady[1] I dined with at Dr. Franklin's. She
entered the room with a careless, jaunty air; upon
seeing ladies who were strangers to her, she bawled
out, "Ah! mon Dieu, where is Franklin? Why
did you not tell me there were ladies here?" You
must suppose her speaking all this in French.
"How I look!" said she, taking hold of a chemise
made of tiffany, which she had on over a blue lute-string,
and which looked as much upon the decay
as her beauty, for she was once a handsome woman;
her hair was frizzled; over it she had a small
straw hat, with a dirty gauze half-handkerchief
round it, and a bit of dirtier gauze, than ever my
maids wore, was bowed on behind. She had a black
gauze scarf thrown over her shoulders. She ran
out of the room; when she returned, the Doctor
entered at one door, she at the other; upon which
she ran forward to him, caught him by the hand,
"Helas! Franklin;" then gave him a double kiss,
one upon each cheek, and another upon his forehead.

When we went into the room to dine, she
was placed between the Doctor and Mr. Adams.
She carried on the chief of the conversation at
dinner, frequently locking her hand into the Doctor's,
and sometimes spreading her arms upon the
backs of both the gentlemen's chairs, then throwing
her arm carelessly upon the Doctor's neck.

I should have been greatly astonished at this
conduct, if the good Doctor had not told me that in
this lady I should see a genuine Frenchwoman,
wholly free from affectation or stiffness of behaviour,
and one of the best women in the world. For this
I must take the Doctor's word; but I should have
set her down for a very bad one, although sixty
years of age, and a widow. I own I was highly
disgusted, and never wish for an acquaintance with
any ladies of this cast. After dinner she threw
herself upon a settee, where she showed more than
her feet. She had a little lap-dog, who was, next
to the Doctor, her favorite. This she kissed, and
when he wet the floor she wiped it up with her
chemise. This is one of the Doctor's most intimate
friends, with whom he dines once every week, and
she with him. She is rich, and is my near neighbour;
but I have not yet visited her. Thus you
see, my dear, that manners differ exceedingly in
different countries. I hope, however, to find amongst
the French ladies manners more consistent with my
ideas of decency, or I shall be a mere recluse.

You must write to me, and let me know all about
you; marriages, births, and preferments; every

thing you can think of. Give my respects to the
Germantown family. I shall begin to get letters
for them by the next vessel.

Good night. Believe me