A Sentimental Journey | Page 2

of me!
THE MONK. CALAIS.
I had scarce uttered the words, when a poor monk of the order of St.
Francis came into the room to beg something for a his convent. No man
cares to have his virtues the sport of contingencies--or one man may be
generous, as another is puissant;--sed non quoad hanc-- or be it as it
may,--for there is no regular reasoning upon the ebbs and flows of our

humours; they may depend upon the same causes, for aught I know,
which influence the tides themselves: 'twould oft be no discredit to us,
to suppose it was so: I'm sure at least for myself, that in many a case I
should be more highly satisfied, to have it said by the world, "I had had
an affair with the moon, in which there was neither sin nor shame,"
than have it pass altogether as my own act and deed, wherein there was
so much of both.
- But, be this as it may,--the moment I cast my eyes upon him, I was
predetermined not to give him a single sous; and, accordingly, I put my
purse into my pocket--buttoned it--set myself a little more upon my
centre, and advanced up gravely to him; there was something, I fear,
forbidding in my look: I have his figure this moment before my eyes,
and think there was that in it which deserved better.
The monk, as I judged by the break in his tonsure, a few scattered white
hairs upon his temples, being all that remained of it, might be about
seventy;--but from his eyes, and that sort of fire which was in them,
which seemed more temper'd by courtesy than years, could be no more
than sixty: --Truth might lie between--He was certainly sixty-five; and
the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something seem'd
to have been planting-wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to the
account.
It was one of those heads which Guido has often painted,--mild,
pale--penetrating, free from all commonplace ideas of fat contented
ignorance looking downwards upon the earth;--it look'd forwards; but
look'd as if it look'd at something beyond this world.--How one of his
order came by it, heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's shoulders
best knows: but it would have suited a Bramin, and had I met it upon
the plains of Indostan, I had reverenced it.
The rest of his outline may be given in a few strokes; one might put it
into the hands of any one to design, for 'twas neither elegant nor
otherwise, but as character and expression made it so: it was a thin,
spare form, something above the common size, if it lost not the
distinction by a bend forward in the figure,--but it was the attitude of
Intreaty; and, as it now stands presented to my imagination, it gained
more than it lost by it.
When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and laying his
left hand upon his breast (a slender white staff with which he journey'd

being in his right)--when I had got close up to him, he introduced
himself with the little story of the wants of his convent, and the poverty
of his order;--and did it with so simple a grace,--and such an air of
deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look and figure,--I was
bewitch'd not to have been struck with it.
- A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a single
sous.
THE MONK. CALAIS.
- 'Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with
which he had concluded his address;--'tis very true,--and heaven be
their resource who have no other but the charity of the world, the stock
of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many GREAT CLAIMS
which are hourly made upon it.
As I pronounced the words GREAT CLAIMS, he gave a slight glance
with his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic: --I felt the full
force of the appeal--I acknowledge it, said I: --a coarse habit, and that
but once in three years with meagre diet,--are no great matters; and the
true point of pity is, as they can be earn'd in the world with so little
industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pressing upon
a fund which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged and the
infirm;--the captive who lies down counting over and over again the
days of his afflictions, languishes also for his share of it; and had you
been of the ORDER OF MERCY, instead of the order of St. Francis,
poor as I am, continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully
should it have been open'd to you, for