I had long been desirous of visiting the Continent, but the long
continuance of the war, and the little prospect which lately appeared of
its termination, seemed to afford no chance for the accomplishment of my
wish. At a period, however, when that arbitrary power, which had so long
held in subjection the other nations of the Continent, sought to
overthrow the only monarch who dared to oppose it, and to claim for his
subjects the natural rights from which they had been excluded by the
"_Continental System_," it pleased Divine Providence to destroy the
fetters which enslaved the nations of Europe, as if to try, whether in
the school of adversity, they had learned to merit the blessings of
independence. These great and glorious changes, the reality of which it
was at first _difficult_ to believe, having opened to the subjects and
commerce of Britain, countries from which they had been for so many
successive years proscribed, it was not long before numbers of British
repaired to the continent to indulge that love of roving for which they
had been always distinguished (and which a long war had suppressed but
not eradicated) and to claim from all true patriots, in the countries
they visited, that friendly reception to which the long perseverance and
vast sacrifices of England, during a struggle unexampled in history, had
so justly entitled the lowest of her subjects.
The unsettled state in which most part of the Continent necessarily
remained for a little time after the entrance of the Allies into Paris,
did not afford the most favourable moment for the journey of one who
was not a military traveller; and I did not regret that business
prevented my leaving England for a few months after the opening of the
Continent, as I had the gratification of being a witness, in the British
metropolis, to the exultation of all ranks of men; first, at seeing the
legitimate monarch of France arrive there in company with our
illustrious Regent who having long contributed to lessen the afflictions
of the exiled _Count de Lille_, had first the satisfaction (to which he,
amongst all the sovereigns of Europe, was best entitled, by the great
part, which under his government, England had performed for the cause of
European liberty) of saluting him as _King of France_, amidst the cheers
of applauding thousands; and, secondly, of witnessing the arrival of the
magnanimous Alexander, of that too long unfortunate monarch, Frederick
William, of those chiefs, Platoff and Blucher, whose exploits have
ranked them amongst the first of heroes, and, at last, of seeing, in the
person of a _Wellington_, a British marshal who had successively foiled
the most renowned of the generals of Buonaparte, and who, like Turenne,
was accustomed "_to fight without anger, to conquer without ambition,
and to triumph without vanity_."
About the middle of July I left London and proceeded to Dover, a journey
which, in the improved state of our roads and of our conveyances, is
easily performed in one day; and often as I had before travelled the
Kent road, yet I could not see without surprise, the astonishing number
of public and private carriages with which it abounds, and which must
have doubtless much increased within the last few months. I became
acquainted on the road with a French Abbé, who, accompanied by his
sister, was returning home after an absence of twenty-two years, which
he had spent mostly in England, but he could by no means express himself
intelligibly in English. I therefore addressed him in his own language,
which pleased him extremely, and I found him an amusing companion, as
well as very grateful for some little services I rendered him in
arranging with the coachman respecting his baggage and that of his
sister, as they took the whole of their property to France with them,
including many household articles which I should not have thought worth
the expence of carriage. We supped in the same apartment at Dover, but
they had brought their provisions with them, which as I afterwards found
was sometimes the practice in France, either from motives of comfort or
economy. Such travellers, however, would not be much wished for at an
English inn.
Next morning my first business was to attend at the custom-house; and
the officers, after a diligent search, finding nothing illegal amongst
my baggage, permitted me to purchase a sufferance for it to be embarked
for France. The rest of the passengers having likewise arranged their
affairs and obtained sufferances, we proceeded on board the packet, and
found that it was extremely full without this last reinforcement; but I
doubt whether the captain way of that opinion. I found the charge for
the passage amounted to one guinea, which is the sum paid for the
passage between Dublin and Holyhead, although that is nearly three
times the extent of the channel between Dover and Calais. I was informed
that the seeming disproportion in those prices was to be attributed to
the heavy _post dues_ at Calais, which, for so small a vessel as the
packet, amounted to £14 or £15, although in the year 1793 they did not
exceed eighteen shillings.
Amongst the passengers was a Swiss gentleman, who I found passed for a
man of _great importance_ amongst the sailors. His carriage perhaps
contributed not a little to this, as it had once been the property of
the duke of Northumberland; and although the arms were defaced, yet the
coronet, the garter, and the gilding with which it was still decorated,
no doubt contributed to increase the expences of a journey which, from
its length, is a heavy tax on the pockets of the generality of
travellers, however plain may be their equipage.
We were above two hours on board before it was possible to extricate our
vessel from the great number of transports (I believe not less than
thirty-two) which crowded the harbour, being engaged for some time in
bringing home a large portion of our cavalry, who added to the military
glory they had acquired in Spain and Portugal, by their forbearance in
tolerating insults to which they were but too often exposed in their
passage through France, by a people whose vanity forbids them to admire
valour, except in Frenchmen, but whose conduct on those occasions served
only to increase the obligations which they had in so many instances
experienced from the humanity which always attends on British valour.
If we had to regret the delay we experienced in getting out to sea, that
sentiment soon vanished before the favourable breeze which, in about
four hours, brought us to the French coast. As the day was hazy, we had
not long to admire the venerable castle of Dover, and the cliff which
Shakspeare has celebrated; and some time elapsed before we could
distinguish the shores of France, which differ entirely from those of
England, rising gradually from the water's edge, with the single
exception of _Scales Cliff_, which seems to correspond with some of
those bulwarks which characterize our coast from Dover to Portland,
where, I think, chalk cliffs are succeeded by masses of rock and grey
stone.
The tide being out on our arrival before Calais, we could not get into
the harbour, and with that impatience to leave a ship, which is natural
to landsmen, we were glad to accept the offers of some boats which
hastened around the packet, to offer their services in landing us; this,
however, they did not exactly perform, being too large to get very near
the shore, to which we were each of us carried by three Frenchmen, one
to each leg, and a third behind. This service I had often had performed
by one of my fellow-subjects, and it seemed to verify the old saying,
that '_one Englishman is equal to three Frenchmen_.'
Each Monsieur however insisted on a shilling for his services, and the
boatmen five shillings from every passenger. But I had travelled enough
to know, that extortion on such occasions is so general, as not to be
peculiarly the characteristic of the inhabitants of any country, and if
ever there is _pleasure in being cheated_, it is surely on such an
occasion as that of exchanging the misery of a ship for the comforts of
the most indifferent inn.
The arrival for the first time in a foreign country, of a person who has
never before quitted his own, is an epoch of considerable moment in his
life. Most things are different from those he has been accustomed to,
and the force of first impressions is then stronger than, perhaps, at
almost any other period. We are, in general, not much disposed to like
any custom, or mode of dress, which is greatly at variance with what we
have been long used to, and the enormous height of the bonnets in France
produces, in my opinion, an effect far from pleasing; the ladies, by
their strange costume, _out-top_ many of the military.
I found the town of Calais in a state of equal bustle with Dover, and
from the same cause. It is regularly fortified, and contains many very
good houses. The population is estimated at between seven and eight
thousand. The market-place forms a spacious square. The town-house and
church are handsome buildings, and altogether it must be allowed much to
surpass Dover as to appearance.
The search which ray portmanteau had undergone the day before in
England, was here renewed by the officers of the French _Douane_, but
with no better success on the part of the officers in being able to
seize any thing. They were, however, very polite, and their fees only
amounted to half a crown. My next care was, to attend at the town-hall,
and present my passport to the inspection of the mayor, who indorsed it
with his licence for me to proceed to Paris.
I accordingly determined on setting out without further delay, and
joined an acquaintance in hiring a cabriolet for the journey, to obviate
the trouble of changing our luggage at every post, and to avoid any
delay that might arise from not finding a carriage at every station,
which is by no means certain, as in England. We found the _Cabriolet_ a
very pleasant conveyance, it is nearly as light as a curricle, and has
a head and windows, which exclude rain. It is drawn by two or three
horses, and proceeds at a tolerably good pace. The postilions are
provided with boots of a very inconvenient size, and with whips which
they are perpetually cracking, not much to the comfort of the ears of
their passengers.
Those who have never seen any thing but an English stage-coach, cannot
but feel some surprise at the different appearance which a French
_Diligence_ presents. Most of them carry nine inside passengers, and
three in the cabriolet, and as much luggage behind, and in the Imperial,
as would load a tolerably large waggon. They are generally drawn by four
horses, which present a very different appearance from those under the
English carnages, and they are driven by one postilion, who rides the
wheel-horse. Occasionally, a second postilion and two more leaders are
necessary from the weight of the carriage, or the heaviness of the
roads. Carriages in France, in passing each other, take exactly
different sides of the road from what they are obliged to do by our
laws of travelling.
The country, for many leagues round Calais reminded me very strongly of
Cambridgeshire in its general appearance, being flat, well cultivated,
unenclosed, and abounding in wind-mills. About the villages there are
some trees and enclosures; but a few more church spires are wanting to
complete the resemblance. The distance from Calais to Paris is about 180
_English miles_, and may generally be considered as a flat country,
occasionally diversified by a few hills of no great magnitude.
Enclosures are rarely seen, but the quantity of corn is quite
astonishing. Agriculture appeared to me to be in a highly improved
state: there are artificial grasses and meliorating crops. The
appearance of the villages in general on this road is but little
inferior to those in many parts of England. But the peasants, although
not for the most part badly off, have no idea of that neatness, and of
those domestic comforts which form the great characteristic of the same
class of people in England.
An English farmer would laugh at the great cocked hat which is usually
worn by the French husbandman, and would not be disposed to change his
white frock for the blue one used on the Continent. Some wood is
occasionally to be seen; but Picardy is not famous either for the
quantity or quality of its timber. The general fuel of the lower orders
is _turf_, which, however, is not in any great quantity; and in
appearance it is inferior to that used by the Irish peasants. The roads
are in general kept in good repair, and near Paris and some other great
towns they are paved in the centre. They are flanked in many places by
avenues of trees, which are for the most part cut with great formality;
but even where left to themselves, they do not add much to the ornament
of the country or to the comfort of the traveller, affording but a
scanty shade.
The whole of this road is without turnpikes; they were, as I understood,
abolished about three years ago, and the roads are now managed by the
government. The French praise Buonaparte extremely for his attention to
the state of their _roads_, and it must be owned that in this
particular he merits the praise bestowed on him, which cannot be said
with truth of many other parts of his conduct which seem to have been
also approved of by the French. Buonaparte, it is true, made excellent
roads, but he made them only for his soldiers, either to awe those who
had submitted to his yoke, or to afford a facility of extending still
further his conquests.
The drivers in France do not tax themselves at every public-house as
with us, for porter or spirits, which they do not want; they seldom
stop, unless the stage is unusually long, and their horses require a
little rest.
Before we were admitted within the gates of Boulogne our passports were
demanded, and underwent a strict examination, probably the remains of
the etiquette established by Buonaparte, this place being chiefly
remarkable as the port, from whence he proposed making his threatened
descent into England. We observed a vast unfinished fort, which he had
ordered to be constructed; it will probably never be completed, but
crumble to pieces like the vast and ill-acquired authority of its
founder. The town of Boulogne is large and well fortified, but the
bustle in the port was chiefly occasioned by the embarkation of the
English cavalry.
We dined at Samers, and there had the first specimen of a French dinner
(as at Calais we had lodged at an hotel, which is kept by an Englishman,
and where every thing was _à l'Angloise_). The _general_ hour for dining
is twelve o'clock; many public carriages stop to dine before that hour,
however, from twelve to one o'clock, the traveller is sure at every
tolerable inn of finding a very abundant and cheap repast. We found the
bread excellent, as also a profusion of fruit; the wine of Picardy is
bad, but good wine may be had from the southern provinces, at a
reasonable price.
Their meats are so much stewed, that their real flavour can hardly be
distinguished, but were they dressed by a mode of cookery that did them
more justice, I do not apprehend the epicure would have to find fault
with their quality.
The next place which presented any thing worthy of remark, was
Abbeville, a large fortified city, which has manufactures of cloth and
damask. The church which has suffered much during the anarchy of the
revolution, is still a large and handsome edifice. We proceeded to
breakfast at Boix, where the coffee was excellent, and the milk was
served up boiled, as is generally the custom throughout France.
We also found good accommodation at Beauvais, a large and ancient city,
where the architecture of the houses reminded me much of Shrewsbury. The
streets are narrow and winding. The cathedral is well worthy the
attention of the antiquarian, although it has, like many others in
France, suffered greatly during the revolution. In the neighbourhood of
Beauvais are a vast number of vineyards, and the effect produced by them
is very striking to those who have never seen a vine but in a stove. But
the novelty soon ceases, and a vineyard is then seen with as little
astonishment as a field of corn.
We were easily persuaded to make a short deviation from the direct road,
in order to visit Chantilly, the once splendid residence of the Princes
of Condé, but which now affords a melancholy contrast to the scene which
it exhibited in more tranquil times. The Great Château has disappeared;
but a small building remains at a distance, which is to be fitted up for
the reception of its venerable owner, who is expected in the course of
the summer to pay a visit to the inheritance which the late happy
revolution has restored to him, after having undergone a sad change in
its appearance. The great stables are standing, but only serve to add to
the desolation of the scene by their vacancy, and the contrast which
they form to the small house which now only remains to the possessor of
this great domain.--St. Denis, where we soon arrived, is a small town
not far distant from Paris; it was anciently remarkable for its _abbey_,
which contained the magnificent tombs of the Kings of France. These were
mostly destroyed early in the revolution (but a few still remain, in
the museum of monuments at Paris, as I afterwards found) when the
promoters endeavoured to obliterate all traces of royalty: but when
after a long series of convulsions, Buonaparte thought his dynasty had
been firmly established on the throne of the Bourbons, he decreed that
this abbey should be restored as the burying place of the monarchs of
France; and it is probable that decree will be carried into effect,
although not in the sense which its promulgator intended.
* * * * *