remembering that in the year 1749, I had like
to have had an affair with a Frenchman at Ghent, who affirmed, that all
the battles gained by the great duke of Marlborough were purposely lost
by the French generals, in order to bring the schemes of madame de
Maintenon into disgrace. This is no bad resource for the national
vanity of these people: though, in general, they are really persuaded,
that theirs is the richest, the bravest, the happiest, and the most
powerful nation under the sun; and therefore, without some such cause,
they must be invincible. By the bye, the common people here still
frighten their wayward children with the name of Marlborough. Mr. B--'s
son, who was nursed at a peasant's house, happening one day, after he
was brought home, to be in disgrace with his father, who threatened to
correct him, the child ran for protection to his mother, crying,
"Faites sortir ce vilaine Malbroug," "Turn out that rogue Marlborough."
It is amazing to hear a sensible Frenchman assert, that the revenues of
France amount to four hundred millions of livres, about twenty millions
sterling, clear of all incumbrances, when in fact their clear revenue
is not much above ten. Without all doubt they have reason to inveigh
against the fermiers generaux, who oppress the people in raising the
taxes, not above two-thirds of which are brought into the king's
coffers: the rest enriches themselves, and enables them to bribe high
for the protection of the great, which is the only support they have
against the remonstrances of the states and parliaments, and the
suggestions of common sense; which will ever demonstrate this to be, of
all others, the most pernicious method of supplying the necessities of
government.

Mons. L--y seasoned the severity of his political apothegms with
intermediate sallies of mirth and gallantry. He ogled the venerable
gentlewoman his commere, who sat by him. He looked, sighed, and
languished, sung tender songs, and kissed the old lady's hand with all
the ardour of a youthful admirer. I unfortunately congratulated him on
having such a pretty young gentleman to his son. He answered, sighing,
that the boy had talents, but did not put them to a proper use--"Long
before I attained his age (said he) I had finished my rhetoric."
Captain B--, who had eaten himself black in the face, and, with the
napkin under his chin, was no bad representation of Sancho Panza in the
suds, with the dishclout about his neck, when the du