A degree of parsimony, which an Englishman, who does not affect the reputation of a Codrus, could not acquire without many self-combats, appears in a Frenchman a matter of preference and convenience, and till one has lived long and familiarly in the country, one is apt to mistake principles for customs, and character for manners, and to attribute many things to local which have their real source in moral causes.—­The traveller who sees nothing but gay furniture, and gay clothes, and partakes on invitation of splendid repasts, returns to England the enamoured panegyrist of French hospitality.—­On a longer residence and more domestic intercourse, all this is discoverable to be merely the sacrifice of parsimony to vanity—­the solid comforts of life are unknown, and hospitality seldom extends beyond an occasional and ostentatious reception.  The gilding, painting, glasses, and silk hangings of a French apartment, are only a gay disguise; and a house, which to the eye may be attractive even to splendour, often has not one room that an Englishman would find tolerably convenient.  Every thing intended for use rather than shew is scanty and sordid—­all is beau, magnifique, gentil, or superb, [Fine magnificent, genteel, or superb.] and nothing comfortable.  The French have not the word, or its synonime, in their language.

In France, clothes are almost as durable as furniture, and the gaiety which twenty or thirty years ago we were complaisant enough to admire is far from being expensive.  People are not more than five or six hours a day in their gala habits, and the whole of this period is judiciously chosen between the hours of repast, so that no risk in incurred by accidents at table.  Then the caprices of fashion, which in England are so various and despotic, have here a more limited influence:  the form of a dress changes as long as the material is convertible, and when it has outlasted the possibility of adaptation to a reigning mode, it is not on that account rejected, but is generally worn in some way or other till banished by the more rational motive of its decay.  All the expences of tea-visits, breakfast-loungings, and chance-dinners, are avoided—­an evening visit is passed entirely at cards, a breakfast in form even for the family is unusual, and there are very few houses where you could dine without being previously engaged.  I am, indeed, certain, that (unless in large establishments) the calculation for diurnal supply is so exact, that the intrusion of a stranger would be felt by the whole family.  I must, however, do them the justice to say, that on such occasions, and where they find the thing to be inevitable, they put the best face possible on it, and the guest is entertained, if not plentifully, and with a very sincere welcome, at least with smiles and compliments.  The French, indeed, allow, that they live less hospitably than the English:  but then they say they are not so rich; and it is true, property is not so general,