ON THE TRACK OF NAPOLEON'S ARMY
The Ex-Imperial Guard--Anecdotes of the last days at
Fontainebleau--Invalided Cossacks--"Trahison"--Ruin and
desolation--Roast dog--An English soldier--A Trappist veteran--Jack
boots--Polytechnic cadets--A Russian officer--Cossacks, Kalmucks,
and sparrows--Prussians and British lions--Rhine Castles--Rival
inscriptions--Diligence atmosphere--Brisemaison--Sociable English.
On leaving Paris, Edward Stanley planned to follow the traces of the
desperate campaign which Napoleon had fought in the early months of that
year (1814) against the Allies, and in which he so nearly succeeded in
saving his crown for a time.
As, however, the English travellers did not intend to return again to
Paris, they reversed Napoleon's line of march and started to
Fontainebleau by the road along which the Emperor rode back in hot haste
on the night of March 30th, to take up the command of the force which
should have been defending his capital, and where the sight of Mortier's
flying troops convinced him that all hope was at an end.
When they had visited Fontainebleau, where the final abdication had
taken place on April 11th, they turned north-east to Melun and posted on
through towns which had been the scenes of some of the most desperate
fighting in that wonderful campaign, when Napoleon had seemed to be
everywhere at once, dealing blows right and left against the three
armies which, in the beginning of January, had advanced to threaten his
Empire--Bülow in the north, Blücher on the east, and Schwarzenberg on
the south.
They passed through Guignes and Meaux, by which Napoleon's army had
marched after his victory over Blücher at Vauchamps on February 14th, in
the rapid movement to reinforce Marshal Victor, and to drive back
Schwarzenberg from the Seine.
Through Château Thierry, where on the 12th of February the Emperor and
Marshal Mortier had pursued Russians and Prussians from street to street
till they were driven over the Marne, and whence the French leader
dashed after Blücher to Vauchamps.
Through Soissons, which the Russians under Winzengerode had bombarded on
March 3rd, and forced to surrender, whereby Blücher and Bülow were
enabled to join hands.
Through Laon, where Blücher retreated after Craonne, and where he
finally shattered Marmont's forces in a night attack.
By Berry au Bac, where the Emperor crossed the Aisne on his way to fight
Blücher at Craonne, the scene on March 7th of one of the bloodiest
battles of the war.
On to Rheims where, after Marmont's disaster at Laon, Napoleon beat the
Russians just before he was forced to rush southwards again to contend
with Schwarzenberg and his Austrians.
Finally they reached Châlons, which had been Napoleon's starting-point
for the whole campaign, and where he had arrived in the closing days of
January after having taken his last farewell of Marie Louise and of the
King of Rome.
After Châlons they turned eastwards, following the line of fortresses
for which Napoleon had staked and lost his crown, and reached the Rhine
by Verdun, Metz, and Mayence; thence to Aix-la-Chapelle, Lille, and
Brussels, which had by the Treaty of Paris, in May, been ceded with the
whole of Belgium to the Netherlands.
_Edward Stanley to his Wife._
MELUN, _July 14th_.
We quitted our Hotel yesterday morning at six for Fontainebleau.
There is nothing particularly interesting about the road, which is
almost an incessant avenue. About half-way we passed a fine Château of
Marshal Jourdan's.
The forest of Fontainebleau commences about four miles from the town and
extends some nine or ten miles in all directions. At first I was in
hopes of being gratified with the sight of fine woods, but, with the
exception of a few patches of good oaks, the remainder is little better
than underwood and dwarflings.
We went into the heart of the forest to see an old Hermitage now
inhabited by a keeper and his family. They had been visited by Cossacks,
but had received no injury whatever; on the contrary the poor woman
related with all the eloquence of Truth and the French animation that
from their own soldiers they had suffered all that cruelty and rapacity
could devise--indeed, the house and gardens bore evidence to the
facts--window shutters pierced with bullets, broken doors, furniture
gone, and above 800 francs' worth of honey destroyed out of pure
wantonness--in short the poor people seemed quite ruined. I received a
similar account in the town. Fontainebleau is a dull, melancholy-looking
place, with a very extensive ugly palace--interesting only from the late
events. Scarcely a soul appeared about; we crossed the large court in
which Buonaparte took his last farewell and embraced the Imperial
Eagles, called by some loyal French "The vile Cuckoos." Our hostess was,
I presume, a staunch imperialist, who thought she could not shew her
zeal for the Emperor in a stronger manner than by imposing on
Englishmen. She began by asking 16s. for a plate of 8 little wretched
mutton chops; we resented the imposition, although the sudden appearance
of 4 or 5 officers of the imperial guard almost rendered it doubtful
whether we ought to act too warmly on the defensive, as they seemed to
patronise our hostess; however, we refused to pay and retired unimposed
upon.
The imperial guard here are supposed to be particularly attached to the
Emperor, and of course averse to Englishmen, but I was agreeably
surprised to find three out of the four really something like gentlemen
in their manners; we entered into conversation, which I managed as
dexterously as I could, manoeuvering between the evil of sacrificing my
own opinions on one side, and of giving them offence on the other; it
was a nice point, as I perceived a word beyond the line of demarcation
would have inflamed them in a trice. One happened to differ with another
on a political point, which produced a loud and rapid stamping with the
feet, accompanied by a course of pirouets on the heel with the velocity
of a dervish, which fully proved what might be effected on their tempers
had I been disposed to try the experiment. They called themselves the
Ex-Imperial Guard. On retiring I shook hands with them, and with as low
a bow as the little King of Rome, said "Messieurs les Gardes d'Honneur,
Je vous salue." ...
LETTER VII.
_Monday, July 19th._
...The history of Buonaparte immediately preceding, and subsequent to
the surrender of Paris, was never actually known--I will give it you.
The capitulation took place on the 30th (March). In the evening of that
day he arrived at Fontainebleau without his army. Rumours of fighting
near Paris had reached him. He almost immediately set off with Berthier
in his carriage for Paris, and actually arrived at Villejuif, only 6
miles from the capital; when he heard the result he turned about and
appeared again at Fontainebleau at 9 the next morning. When he alighted,
the person who handed him out, a sort of head-porter of the Palace, who
was our guide, told me he looked "triste, bien triste"; he spoke to
nobody, went upstairs as fast as he could, and then called for his plans
and maps; his occupation during the whole time he staid consisted in
writing and looking over papers, but to what this writing and these
papers related the world may feel but will never know; his spirits were
by no means broken down; in a day or two he was pretty much as usual,
and it is said he signed the Abdication without the least apparent
emotion. We heard he was mad, but I can assure you from undoubted
authority that he was perfectly well in mind and body the whole time,
and, notwithstanding his excessive fatigues, as corpulent as ever;
indeed, said our guide, "War seems to agree with him better than with
any man I ever knew." Buonaparte laid out immense sums in furnishing and
beautifying the Palais here. I got into his library, the snuggest room
you ever saw, immediately below a little study in which he always sat
and settled his affairs; his arm-chair was a very comfortable, honest,
plain arm-chair, but I looked in vain for all the gashes and notches
which it was said he was wont to inflict upon it. I could not perceive
a scratch, he was too busily employed in that said chair in forming
plans for cutting up Europe; within three yards of his table was a
little door, or rather trap door, by which you descended down the oddest
spiral staircase you ever beheld into the Library, which was low and
small; the books were few of them new, almost all standard works upon
history--at least I am sure 4 out of 5 were historical--all of his own
selection, and each stamped, as in fact was everything else from high to
low, far and wide, with his N., or his Bees or his Eagle--all of which
Louis XVIII is as busily employed in effacing, which alone will give him
ample employment: but to return to the books. Amongst the rest I
found--Shakespeare ... and a whole range of Ecclesiastical History,
which, if ever read, might account in some degree for his shutting up
the Pope as the existing representative of the animals who have
occasioned half the feuds and divisions therein recorded. There was a
Chapel, which he regularly attended on Sundays and Saints' days. His
State bed was a sort of State business, very uncomfortable, consisting
of 5 or 6 mattresses under a royal canopy with 2 Satin Pillows at each
end.
During his residence he never stirred beyond the gates, though I could
not discover that he was at all under restraint, or in any way looked
upon as a prisoner; we were told in England (what are we not told
there?) that he feared the people, who would have torn him in pieces;
this is an idle story. I rather suspect the people liked him too well,
besides which his Guards were there, and by them he is idolised. He
generally took exercise in a long and beautiful Gallery, called the
Gallery of Francis I., on both sides of which were busts of his great
Generals on panels ornamented with the N., and some name above alluding
to a victory; thus above one N. was _Nazareth_, which puzzled me at
first, but I afterwards heard he had cut up some Turks there; besides
the Gallery, he walked every day up and down a Terrace; he dined every
day in a miserable (I speak comparatively) little passage room without
any shew of state; he was affable to his attendants and is liked by
them. His abdication room is not one of the state apartments--it is a
shabby ante-room; I could almost fancy that in performing this
humiliating deed he had retired as far as possible from the Halls and
Saloons which were decorated by his hand, and had witnessed his Imperial
magnificence. Most of the Marshals were in the room, and it would have
been a tour indeed to have glided through the hearts of each when such
an extraordinary performance was transacting. It was in the great Court
before the Palace that he took his leave, not above 1,500 troops were
present. At such a moment to have heard such a speech, delivered with
the dignity and stage effect Buonaparte well knew how to give, must have
produced a strong effect--how great (how sad I had almost said) the
contrast!
The stones were overgrown with grass; nobody appeared, no voice was
heard except the clacking of half a dozen old women who were weeding on
their knees, and all the windows were closed. The dreary, deserted
present compared with the magnificent past excited nearly the same
feelings as if I had been looking on Tadmor in the wilderness. After
passing the Imperial prison we were ushered into the apartments of the
Imperial prisoners, the poor Pope and his 16 Cardinals. I had quite
forgotten the place of their confinement, and was a little surprised
when the man said, "Here, Sir, dwelt for 19 months the holy Conclave of
St. Peter." He must have led a miserable life, for though he was allowed
two carriages, with 6 and 8 horses to each, he neither stirred out
himself nor allowed any of the Cardinals to so do, saying he did not
think it right for prisoners. Buonaparte saw him in January, I think the
man said, for the last time. So much for Fontainebleau. Few have
followed their master to Elba. Roustan the Mameluke and Constant his
Valet were certainly very ungrateful; one of them--I forget which--to
whom Buonaparte had given 25,000 fr. (about £1,200) the day before he
left Fontainebleau, applied to the Duc de Berri for admission into his
service; in reply the Duc told him his gratitude ought to have carried
him to Elba, but though it had not, if he (the Duke) ever heard that
Buonaparte wished to have him there, he would bind him hand and foot and
send him immediately. None of the Royal allies have been to
Fontainebleau at the time or since, except the King of Prussia, who
came incog. a few days ago. This the guide said he had heard since; he
had, indeed, seen three persons walking about, but he had not shewn them
the Palace nor spoken to them. That it was the King of Prussia was
confirmed by a curious little memorandum I found wafered over a high
glass on the top of the room in which we dined, and which caught my eye
immediately; I shewed it to the people of the house, who said they had
not observed it before, but remembered three gentlemen dining there on
that day. "Sa Majesté le Roi de Prusse accompagné du Prince Guillaume
son fils a diné en cette appartement avec son premier Chambellan Mr.
Baron D'Ambolle, le 8 Juillet, 1814." ... This is the way the King of
Prussia always went about in Paris, nobody knew him or saw him....
From Fontainebleau we went to Melun and kept proceeding through Guignes
to Meaux. At Guignes we began to hear of the effects of war: 15,000
Russians had been bivouacked above the town for a week. Buonaparte
advanced with his troops, on which they retired, but troops do not walk
up and down the earth like lambs, but rather like roaring lions, seeking
whom they may devour; however, here let us insert once for all the
account I have invariably received from sufferers throughout the whole
Theatre of war--that the conduct of the Russians and French was widely
different; the former generally behaving as well as could possibly be
expected, and pillaging only from necessity; the latter seem to have
made havoc and devastation their delight. They might perhaps act on
principle, conceiving that it was better for the treasure and good
things of the land to fall into their hands than the enemy's.
At a little shabby inn at Guignes where we breakfasted Buonaparte had
slept. The people described him dressed "comme un perruquier" in a grey
great-coat; he clattered into the house, bustled about, went to his room
early, and appeared again at 9 the next morning, but "J'en reponds bien"
that he was not sleeping all that time. If from Guignes we traversed a
country where we heard of war, at Meaux we began to see the
effects--before a picturesque gateway we descended to cross the bridge
over a stone arch which had been blown up. Shot-holes marked the wall,
and within the houses were well bespattered with musket balls. It was
the first visible field of battle we had crossed, and to heighten the
interest, while we were looking about and asking particulars of the
people, up came bands of Russian troops of all descriptions, Cossacks
included, 1,500 having just entered the town invalided from Paris on
their return home. To be sure, a more filthy set I never beheld. The
country is pretty well stocked with Cossack horses; they were purchased
at a very cheap rate--from 25 shillings to 50 a piece. We have had
several of them in our carriage, and find them far more active and rapid
than the French, though smaller and more miserable in appearance. My
conversation with the Russians (for I made it a point to speak to
everybody) was rather laconic, and generally ran thus, "Vous Russe, moi
Inglis"--the answer, "You Inglis, moi Russe, we brothers"--and then I
generally got a tap on the shoulder and a broad grin of approbation
which terminated the conference.
You know the chief event which occurred at Meaux was the explosion of
the powder magazines by the French on their retreat, for which they were
most severely, and, I think, unjustly, censured in our
despatches--indeed, after seeing and hearing with my own eyes and ears,
I feel less than ever inclined to put implicit faith in these public
documents. The Magazine was in a large house where wines had been stored
in the cellar--about half a mile to the west of the town upon a hill.
About 3 o'clock in the morning the explosion took place with an
"_ébranlement_" which shook the town to its very foundation. In an
instant every pane of glass was shattered to atoms, but the cathedral
windows, which were composed of small squares in lead, escaped tolerably
well, only here and there some patches being forced out. The tiles also
partook of the general crash. Many, of course, were broken by the shower
of shot, stones, &c., which fell, but the actual concussion destroyed
the greater part. Numbers of houses were remaining in their dilapidated
state, and presented a curious scene. We went to see the spot where the
house stood, for the house itself, like the temple of Loretto,
disappeared altogether. Some others near it were on their last
legs--top, beams, doors, all blown away. Even the trees in a garden were
in part thrown down, and the larger ones much excoriated. Only one
person was killed on the spot, supposed to have been a marauder who was
pillaging near the place. Another person about half a mile off, driving
away his furniture to a place of safety, was wounded, and died soon
afterwards.
From Meaux, I may say almost all the way to Châlons, a distance of above
150 miles, the country bore lamentable marks of the scourge with which
it has been afflicted. I will allow you--I would allow myself perhaps,
when I look back to the circumstances connected with the war--to wish
that all the country, Paris included, had been sacked and pillaged as a
just punishment, or rather as the sole mode of convincing these
infatuated people that they are the conquered and not the Conqueror of
the Allies. Wherever I go, whatever field of battle I see--be it Craon,
Laon, Soissons, or elsewhere--victory is never accorded to the Russians.
"Oh non, les Russes étaient toujours vaincus." One fellow who had been
one of Buonaparte's guides at Craon had the impudence to assure me that
the moment he appeared the Allies ran away. "Aye, but," said I, "how
came the French to retreat and leave them alone?" "Oh, because just then
the _trahison_ which had been all arranged 19 months before began to
appear."
Again, at Laon I was assured that the French drove all before them, and
gained the heights. "Then," said I, "why did not they stay there?" "Oh,
then reappeared '_la petite trahison_,'" and so they go on, and well do
they deserve, and heartily do I wish, to have their pride and impudence
lowered. But when I see what war is, when I see the devastation this
comet bears in its sweeping tail, its dreadful impartiality involving
alike the innocent and the guilty, I should be very sorry if it depended
on me to pronounce sentence, or cry "havoc and let loose." ...
On the 14th we slept at Château Thierry--such an Inn, and such insolent
pigs of people! Spain was scarcely worse ... added to the filthiness of
the place, a diligence happened at the same time to pour forth its
contents in the shape of a crew of the most vulgar, dirty French
officers I ever saw. It was well we had no communication with them, for
by the conversation I overheard in the next room there would have been
little mutual satisfaction: "Oh! voici un regiment (alluding to us 5) de
ces Anglois dans la maison! où vont-ils les Coquins?" "Moi je ne sais
pas, les vilains!" Luckily they all tumbled upstairs to bed very soon,
each with a cigar smoking and puffing from beneath the penthouse of
their huge moustachios, during their ascent, by the by, keeping the
Landlady in hot water lest they should break into her best bedroom, of
which she carefully kept the key, telling me at the same time she was
afraid of their insisting upon having clean sheets. By their appearance,
however, I did not conceive her to be in much danger of so unfair a
demand. We had the clean sheets, damp enough, but no matter--she
remembered them in the Bill most handsomely, and when I remonstrated
against some of her charges, for I must observe that we dined in a
wretched hole with our postillions, she checked me by saying, "Comment,
Monsieur, c'est trop! Cela ne se peut pas; comme tout ici est si
charmant." ... There was no reply to be made to such an appeal, so I
bowed, paid, and retired. Then the bridge was blown up, the streets
speckled with bullets. Near the bridge, which had been smartly
contested, the houses were actually riddled, yet here the Emperor stood
exposed as quiet and unconcerned amidst the balls as if (to use their
own expression) he had been "chez lui."
As we advanced the marks of war became stronger and stronger, every
village wore a rueful aspect, and every individual told a tale more and
more harrowing to the feelings. The Postmasters seem to have been the
greatest sufferers, as their situation demanded a large supply of corn,
horses and forage, all of which, even to the chickens, were carried off.
One poor woman, wife of a postmaster, a very well-behaved,
gentlewoman-like sort of person, told me that when 80,000 Russians came
to their town she escaped into the woods (you will remember the snow was
then deep on the ground and the cold excessive) where for two days she
and her family had nothing to eat. The Cossacks then found her, but did
no harm, only asking for food. I mention her case not as singular, for
it was the lot of thousands, but merely to shew what people must expect
when Enemies approach.
Soissons was the next place, and compared with the scene of desolation
there presented all that we had hitherto seen was trifling.
I little thought last February that in July I should witness such
superlatively interesting scenes. With the exception of Elba alone, ours
has been the very best tour that could have been taken, and exactly at
the right time, for I apprehend that a month ago we could not have
passed the country....
LETTER VIII.
MAYENCE, _July 22nd_.
Our speed outstrips my pen. I am to retrace our steps to Soissons,
whereas here we are upon the banks of the Rhine, which is hurrying
majestically by to terminate its course amongst the dykes of Holland.
The nearer we came to Soissons[79] the nearer we perceived we were to
the field of some terrible contest, and the suburbs, where the thickest
of the fight took place, presented a frightful picture of war, not a
house entire. It seems they were unroofed for the convenience of the
attacking party, or set on fire, an operation which took up a very short
space of time, thanks to the energetic labours of about 50 or 60,000
men. Indeed, fire and sword had done their utmost--burnt beams,
battered doors, not a vestige of furniture or window frames. I cannot
give you a better idea of the quantity of shot, and consequent number of
beings who must have perished, than by assuring you that on one front of
a house about the extent of our home, and which was not more favoured
than its neighbours, I counted between 2 and 300 bullet marks. I was
leaning against a bit of broken wall in a garden, which appeared to be
the doorway to a sort of cellar, taking a sketch, when the gardener came
up and gave me some particulars of the fight. He pointed to this cave or
cellar as the place of shelter in which he and 44 others had been
concealed, every moment dreading a discovery which, whether by friend or
foe, they looked upon as equally fatal. Fortunately the foe were the
discoverers. Upon the termination of the battle, which had been
favourable to the Allies, in came a parcel of Russians upon the
trembling peasants. Conceiving it to be a hiding-place for French
soldiers, they rushed upon them, but finding none, satisfied themselves
with asking what business they had there, and turning them out to find
their way through blood and slaughter to some more secure place of
shelter. A small mill pool had been so completely choked with dead that
they were obliged to let off the water and clean it out. With Sir
Charles Stuart's dispatches cut out of the Macclesfield Paper we
ascended the Cathedral, and from thence, as upon a map, traced out the
operations of both armies. Soissons is half surrounded by the Aisne,
and stands on a fine plain, upon which the Russians displayed.
Buonaparte, in one of his Bulletins, abuses a governor who allowed the
Allies to take possession of the town when he was in pursuit, thus
giving them a passage over the river, adding that had that governor done
his duty the Russians might have been cut off. In England this was all
voted "leather and prunello" and a mere vapouring opinion of the
Emperor's, but as far as I could observe he was perfectly right, and had
the governor been acting under my orders I question much whether I
should not have hanged him. In looking about we were shewn a sort of
town hall, with windows ornamented with the most beautiful painted glass
you ever saw--nice little figures, trophies, landscapes, &c.--but a
party of Russians had unfortunately been lodged there, and the glass was
almost all smashed. I procured a specimen, but alas! portmanteaus are
not the best packing-cases for glass, and in my possession it fared
little better than with the Cossacks. However, if it is pulverised, I
will bring it home as a Souvenir....
[Illustration: HOUSES AND TOWER, LAON, 1814.]
_To face p. 161._
From Soissons to Laon the country is uninteresting except from the late
events. With the exception of the first view of the plain and town of
Laon, we passed village after village in the same state of ruin and
dilapidation. Chavignon, about 4 miles from Laon, seemed, however, to
have been more particularly the object of vengeance; it was throughout
nearly a repetition of the suburbs of Soissons. Laon rises like a sort
of Gibraltar from a rich and beautiful plain covered with little woods,
vineyards, villages, and cornfields; the summit is crowned with an old
castle, the town with its Cathedral towers and a parcel of windmills.
Buonaparte had been extremely anxious to dislodge the allies; for two
days made a furious and almost incessant attack, which was fortunately
unsuccessful owing, to speak in French terms, to _la petite trahison_,
in plain English, the bravery of the Russians, who not only withstood
the repeated shocks, but pursued the enemy all the way to Soissons,
every little copse and wood becoming a scene of contest, and the whole
plain was strewed with dead. Since quitting Rouen I do not recollect any
town at all to be compared with Laon either in point of scenery without
or picturesque beauty within; it is one of the most curious old places I
ever saw--Round Towers, Gateways, &c. We took up our quarters at an
odd-looking Inn, with the nicest people we had met with for some time.
They spoke with horror of the miseries they had undergone in this Inn,
not much larger than Cutts' at Wilmslow; they had daily to feed and
accommodate for upwards of two months 150 Russians of all descriptions,
and this at a moment when provisions were, of course, extremely dear.
The landlord's daughter with two friends were imprisoned, actually
afraid of putting their noses beyond the keyhole; luckily they could
make artificial flowers, and two of them drew remarkably well; a
favourite dog of the landlord's was their companion. A Cossack had one
day taken him by the tail with the firm intent to put him on the kitchen
fire, the bare recollection of which kindled all our host's anger, and
he declared that had his poor dog been roasted, though he well knew the
consequence, he should have shot the Cossack; fortunately the dog
escaped, but as his Master assured me, never smelt or heard a Cossack's
name mentioned afterwards without popping his tail between his legs and
making off with the utmost speed. Both at this place and at Soissons we
met with people with whom Davenport[80] had lodged, and in both places
he has established a character which reflects the highest credit on his
activity, humanity, and generosity. He was no idle spectator; he went
about endeavouring by every means in his power to alleviate the miseries
of war by protecting persons and property, and by administering to the
wants of the sick and wounded of every description....
On the 16th we quitted Laon for Berry au Bac, passing through Corbeny
and close to the heights of Craon, upon which a battle was fought which
might be considered as the coup de grâce to the French. The Emperor
commanded in person; he talked nearly half an hour with the Postmaster,
whom he summoned before him; if the man spoke truth, his conversation
appears to have been rather childish. After asking many questions about
the roads and country, he vented a torrent of abuse against the
Russians, upon whom he assured the Postmaster it was his intention to
inflict summary punishment, and, indeed, according to the French
translation of the business, he actually did so, tho' I never could find
out that any other of the Imperial troops remained to enjoy the victory
on these said heights, saving and except the wounded and killed; one
spot was pointed out where in one grave were deposited the remains of
3,000....
In this village of Corbeny there had been sad devastation; but it was at
Berry au Bac that we were to see the superlative degree of misery. This
unfortunate little town had been captured 7 times--4 times by the
Russians, 3 times by the French; their bridge, a beautiful work of 3
arches, only completed in December, was blown up March 19. The houses
fared no better; whole streets were annihilated--chiefly for the sake of
burning the beams for fire-wood by the Russians--but the walls were in
great measure knocked over by the French, for what other purpose than
wanton cruelty I could not learn. Pillage and violence of every
description had been excessive. Some of the inhabitants died of pure
fright; a gentleman-like-looking man assured me his own father was of
the number. Even here the Cossacks were complimented for their
comparative good behaviour, while the French and the Emperor were justly
execrated--"Plait à Dieu" said a poor man who stood moaning over the
ruins of his cottage, "Plait à Dieu, qu'il soit mort, et qu'on
n'entendît plus de Napoléon";--the old woman, his wife, told me they
only feared the Cossacks when they were drunk. An old Cossack had taken
up his quarters with them--"Ah c'était un bon Viellard; un bon Papa."
[Illustration: BERRY AU BAC.
_To face p. 164._]
One day a party of 20 or 30 drunken Cossacks broke into their yard, and
insisted on entering the house; the old woman said she had nothing to
fear and would have opened the door, but the Cossack seized her, saying,
"There is but one way to save you," and taking her by the arm, shewed
her to his companions as his prize and threatened the man who should
touch his property with instant death. They did not dispute the matter
with him and retired quietly. When they were out of sight he told her to
follow him, and led her 3 or 4 miles up the country amongst the woods
and left her in a place of safety, taking a kind leave of her and
saying, "I have done all I could for you, now farewell"--and she saw no
more of him....
We arrived at Rheims on the evening of the 16th, a large, fine, regular,
dull-looking city in a dull-looking plain. The Cathedral is grand
enough, but I felt no wish to remain till the Coronation. Hitherto we
had seen inanimate vestiges of war, at Rheims we were to see the living
effects. By accident we passed the door of a large Church or Hall which
had been converted into an Hospital for 400 Russian prisoners, and on
benches near the porch were seated some convalescent patients without
arms or legs. We stopped to speak to them as well as we could, and upon
saying we were Englanders, one of the Russians with evident rapture and
unfeigned delight made signs that there was a British soldier amongst
their number, and immediately 4 or 5 of them ran to bring him out; and
such a poor object did appear dragged along, his legs withered away and
emaciated to the last degree. He had been wounded at St. Jean de Luz in
the thigh, and subsequently afflicted with a fever which had thus
deprived him of the use of his limbs. We gave something to those who
were nearest, and on my asking if any Prussian was there to whom I could
speak in French, as I wished to express our desire but inability to
relieve all, I was conducted through the wards to a miserable being who
was seated with his head suspended in a sling from the top of the bed,
both legs dreadfully shattered, and unable to support himself upright
through extreme weakness.
During the whole of supper-time the Hospital and this Englishman hung
heavy on my mind; I felt as if I had not done enough, and that I might
be of use in writing to his friends. Accordingly about 10 o'clock I went
again to the Gate and begged admittance. On mentioning my wish to see
the Englishman, I was immediately allowed to enter, and conducted up the
wards. On each side were small beds, clean, and in admirable order;
there was nothing to interrupt the silence but our own echoing footsteps
and the groans of the poor patients all round. The Nurses were in the
costume of Nuns, and from religious principles undertake the care of
the sick--there was something very awful in marching up the aisles with
these conductors at this time. My poor countryman was asleep when I came
to his bedside. I took down memorandums of his case, and promised to
write to his friends, and left him money to assist him on his road home,
should he (of which I much doubt) ever recover.
I staid with him some time; in the course of the conversation some
wounded Prussians came up on their crutches, and it was quite gratifying
to see their kindness and goodwill to this poor fellow who, sole of his
nation and kindred, was wasting away amongst strangers. They patted him
on his head, called him their _cher_ and _bon garçon_, lifted him up
that he might see and hear better, and he assured me that by them and by
all the attendants he was treated with the utmost kindness and
attention. Amongst 400 wounded soldiers whose deep groans and ghastly
countenances announced that many were almost passing the barrier which
separates the mortal from the immortal, with their nurses by my side
holding their glimmering tapers, each arrayed in the order of their
religion and wearing the Cross as the badge of their profession, was a
situation in which I had never before been placed. In offering
ministerial advice, and, I trust, affording religious consolation under
circumstances so solemn and peculiar, you may conceive that I did speak
with all the earnestness and fervour in my power. I told the nurses who
and what I was, and so far from entertaining any illiberal ideas as to
the propriety of my interfering in what might be called their clerical
department, they expressed the greatest pleasure and seemed to rejoice
that their patient was visited by one of his own ministers.... Thus
ended my visit to the Hospital at Rheims, which I never can forget.
We travelled the next day to Verdun, bidding adieu to the Hibberts at
Châlons.
You will ask if we have seen any vestiges of war on the soil such as
bodies. We have met with a tolerable quantity of dead horses by the
road-side and in ditches, but only one human being, half scratched up by
a dog, has appeared; a few rags of uniform dangling upon the skeleton
bones called our attention to it.
Verdun is a very comfortable town of considerable extent decently
fortified; the number of English there was from 1,000 to 1,100; they
were all sent off in a hurry. At 5 in the evening they received the
order, at 7 the next morning the greater part were off, and 24 hours
afterward the Allies hovered round the town. The French boast, and
nobody can contradict the assertion, that the Allies were never able to
take their fortresses; certainly not; for they never attempted. Instead
of losing their time in besieging, they left a few to mark the place and
went on.... The English prisoners seem to have enjoyed every comfort
they could expect--in fact, their imprisonment was in great measure
nominal; with little difficulty they were allowed to go as far as they
wished; they were noticed by the inhabitants, and many have married and
settled in France. I think the prisoners in England have not been so
well off, and complain with reason.
[Illustration: VERDUN BRIDGE.
_To face p. 168._]
We went to the English church and Theatre, and saw as much as we could
for half a day. For the honor of my country I lament to say that many
here contracted heavy debts which are not likely to be paid. Some
instances were mentioned, the truth of which were proved by letters I
read from the parties themselves, little creditable to our national
character, and by persons, too, who ought to have known better. On the
18th we left Verdun for Metz. I had always winked at and generally
encouraged the addition of another passenger behind our Cabriolet. The
road was quite crowded with straggling soldiers going or returning to
their several homes or regiments. We rarely passed in a day less than 2
or 300, and really sometimes in situations so very favorable to robbing
that I am surprised we were never attacked, their appearance being
generally stamped with a character perfectly congenial to the Banditti
Trade--dark, whiskered, sunburnt visages, with ragged uniform and naked
feet. Sometimes we were more fortunate than at others; for instance,
stragglers from the Hamburg garrison, whose wan faces bore testimony to
the fact they related of having lived for the last 4 or 5 months on
horseflesh; but our charitable assistance was to be this day most
abundantly rewarded. We overtook a poor fellow, more wretched than most
we had seen, toiling away with his bivouacking cloak tied round him. He,
too, solicited, and misunderstanding my answer, said in the most
pitiable but submissive tone, "Alors, Monsieur ne permettra pas que je
monte?" "Tout au contraire," said I, "Montez tout de suite." After
proceeding a little way I thought I might as well see who we had got
behind us, and guess my astonishment when I received the answer. Who do
you imagine, of all the people in the world, Buonaparte had raked forth
to secure the Imperial Diadem upon his brow, to fight his battles, and
deal in blood, but--A monk of La Trappe. For three years had he resided
in Silence and solitude in this most severe society when Buonaparte
suppressed it, and insisted that all the Noviciate Monks in No. 36
should sally forth and henceforth wield both their swords and their
tongues; with lingering steps and slow our poor companion went. In the
battle of Lutzen[81] he fought and conquered. In Leipsic[82] he fought
and fell--the _wind_ of a shot tore his eye out and struck him down, and
the shot killed his next neighbour upon the spot; he was taken prisoner
by the Swedes, and was now returning from Stockholm to his brethren near
Fribourg. The simplicity with which he told his tale bore ample
testimony to the Truth, but in addition he shewed me his Rosary and
credentials. After having talked over the battle I changed the subject,
and determined to see if he could wield the sword of controversy as
well as of war; and accordingly telling him who I was, asked his opinion
of the Protestant Faith and the chief points of difference between us.
He hesitated a little at first: "Attendez, Monsieur, il faut que je
pense un peu." In about a minute he tapped at the carriage. "Eh bien,
Monsieur, j'ai pensé," and then entered upon the subject, which he
discussed with much good sense and ability, sometimes in Latin,
sometimes in French; and though he supported his argument well and
manfully, he displayed a liberality of sentiment and a spirit of true
Christianity which quite attached me to him. I asked him his opinion of
the _salvability_ of protestants and infallibility of Catholics.
"Ecoutez moi," was his reply. "Je pense que ceux qui savent que la
Religion Catholique est la vraie Religion et ne la pratiquent pas,
seront damnés, mais pour ceux qui ne pensent pas comme nous. Oh non,
Señor, ne le croyez pas. Oh mon Dieu! non, non! jamais, jamais!" "Are
you _quite sure_ a minister ought not to marry? You will recollect St.
Peter was a married man." "Oh que, oui, c'est vrai, mais le moment qu'il
suivit notre Seigneur on n'entend plus de sa femme." From this we
proceeded to various other topics, amongst others to the propriety of
renouncing a religion in which we conceived there were erroneous
opinions. "Señor, écoutez," said he, "can that religion be good which
springs from a bad principle? Les Anglois étaient une fois des bons
Catholiques; le Divorce d'un Roi capricieux fut la cause de leur
changement. Ah, cela n'était pas bon." ...
When we were on the point of parting he turned to me: "Señor, j'espère
que je ne vous ai pas faché, si je me suis exprimé trop fortement devant
vous qui m'avez tant rendu service, il faut me pardonner, je suis pauvre
et malheureux, mais je pensois que c'était mon devoir."
It was as lucky a meeting for him as for me. I assisted him with money
to expedite him homewards, and he entertained and interested me all the
way to Metz, when, much against my will, we parted, for had he been
going to Pekin I should have accommodated him with a seat....
LETTER IX.
COLOGNE, _July 25th_.
If you could see what I now see, or form any ideas adequate to the
scenery around me, you would indeed prize a letter which, though
commenced at 4 in the morning, cannot be valued at a less price than 2
or 3 old Castles; but it is not yet the moment to sing the praises of
the Rhine. I shall only say that we slept at Bacharach, and that I am
now looking at 4 old Castles whenever I raise my eyes from the paper,
and that a fine old Abbey is only eclipsed by the gable end of a Church,
equally curious, which is almost thrusting itself into the window as if
to look at the strangers.
Little enlivened our day after parting with our Monk, unless I should
except a good scene from a picture which happened at one of the Post
houses. No Postillions were at home, so the Landlord himself was to
drive--an enormous man, rather infirm, with a night-cap on his head,
from whence emerged a long pigtail. It was necessary he should be put
into his Jack boots. By Jack boots you are to understand two large
things as big as portmanteaus, always reminding me of boots fit for the
leg which appears in the Castle of Otranto. Accordingly no less than 4
or 5 persons actually lifted the Landlord into his boots, an operation
which, from the weight and infirmities of the one and the extreme
clumsiness of the others, took up nearly a quarter of an hour; and, of
course, when fairly deposited in them he was unable to move, and further
help was necessary to place him on the saddle.... The first view of
Metz, after traversing an uninteresting country, is remarkably fine. It
stands in a fine rich plain, near though beyond the reach of an
eminence--for it does not deserve the name of a mountain--the sides of
which are covered with woods, villages, and vineyards. There is
something very grand in entering a fortified Town--the clattering of
drawbridges, appearance of moats, guns, sentinels, and all the other
etceteras of war. Our passports were demanded for the first time. At
length we were allowed to pass, and found ourselves in a large, clean
town, chiefly remarkable for its Cathedral, the painted window of which
was equal to any I ever saw. The first thing we invariably do in these
towns is to ascend the highest spire, from whence the general plan and
position are at once explained. You need not be alarmed. There is no
fever at present at Metz, or on the Rhine; but there has been. From the
close of 1813 and until the last two months not less than 69,000 sick or
wounded have been in the hospitals of Metz--a large Church contained
about 3,000 at a time, the remainder were scattered about wherever they
could find room, and many breathed their last in the streets. Of course,
such a concourse of dead and dying infested the air to a certain degree,
and a fever was the result. However, not above 2 or 300 inhabitants
suffered. Of the sick troops from 12 to 1,500 per day were buried
without the town, and quicklime thrown in. We supped with three or four
Frenchmen and a Genoese officer, one of Buonaparte's Imperial _Elites_
of the Guard. His form and countenance were quite Vandyck--I never
looked upon a face so well calculated for a picture; his dark whiskers
and black curling hair composed an admirable frame for a couple of the
most expressive eyes; his manners were extremely gentleman-like, and you
may conceive I did not talk and look at him with any diminution of
interest when I found he was on his way home from Moscow. He had gone
through the whole of the retreat, had almost reached the boundaries of
Poland, when at Calick he was wounded, taken prisoner, and marched back
to Moscow. His description of the miseries of that horrible retreat was
petrifying--when a horse fell it was instantly surrounded by famished
Frenchmen, who devoured the carcase; not merely those who slept were
frozen, but even sentries upon their posts. Yet with all this he imputed
no blame to Buonaparte. The Russians, he said, had reason to thank the
severity of their climate, without which they must have been completely
conquered. I will say this, indeed, that the Russians themselves seem to
consider their own efforts as rather secondary to the weather. Besides
this officer we had a Citizen of Metz, a young officer of the
Polytechnique School who had fought at Montmartre, and a youth who was
silent; the other 3, however, made ample amends, talking incessantly,
and all equally vehement in praise of Buonaparte. The officer blessed
his stars that he had enough to live upon, and that he was now quitting
a service which, having lost its brightest ornament, was no longer
interesting or supportable. The young Polytechnique was equally violent,
with less of the gentleman to soften it down. He, too, was disgusted,
and had retired for the same reason (these Frenchmen are sad liars after
all). Of course, as he had been engaged with his school companions I
thought I could not have a better opportunity of ascertaining the number
killed at Montmartre, as it was invariably circulated and believed at
Paris that this defence was noble to a degree and that the greater part
perished by their guns. You will recollect that the Polytechnique cadets
I met on the heights of Montmartre said the same, and yet the youth
asserted that they had not lost a single individual, that only 30 were
wounded, whereas they knocked over the Russians in countless
multitudes.[83] The Citizen took the best ground for his Panegyric. He
referred us to the roads, the public buildings, the national
improvements which France had gained under the dynasty of Napoleon; and
when I hinted the intolerable weight of the taxes (being 1/5 on all
rents and property) he made light of them, assuring me that Frenchmen
had quite enough left for the comforts of life. When they all filled
their glasses to drink to the health of their hero I turned to the
Genoese officer and begged first to drink to the restoration of Genoa to
that independence of which Napoleon had in great measure deprived her,
adding that her present degradation was a cruel contrast to the
dignified station she once held in Europe. His national superseded his
Imperial feelings, and he drank my toast with great good humour and
satisfaction; nor did he think it necessary in return to press me to
drink success to the Emperor, though the Citizen on my refusal, half in
joke, half in earnest, said he wished I might be ill off for the rest of
my journey.
My good fortune has not quitted me, however. The next morning on getting
into the Diligence we found only one passenger--Major Kleist, nephew to
the celebrated Prussian General and to General Tousein--a Russian
equally famous here though not so well known in England. His appearance
was much in his favor; he talked a great deal; had commanded a regiment
of the Russian Imperial Elites of the Guard (in which he still was) at
the battle of Leipsic and throughout the campaign; been engaged in every
action from the Borodino to the capture of Paris; wounded two or three
times; fought a French Officer in the Bois de Boulogne, and got his
finger cut abominably; visited London and Portsmouth with his Emperor,
dined with the Regent, &c. He told me many interesting anecdotes and
particulars, although, from a certain random way of speaking and the
loose, unconnected manner in which his words dropped from him, I could
not place implicit confidence in what he said, nor vouch for the
accuracy of his accounts. He said decidedly that Alexander had visited
the Princess of Wales in London incog.; he mentioned an anecdote which I
cannot quite believe, because had it occurred in Paris we must have
heard of it. One day when Eugène Beauharnais was with Louis XVIII.
Marmont came in. Eugène, on seeing him, turned to the King, said, "Sire,
here is a Traitor; do not trust in him; he has betrayed one master, he
may betray you."
Marmont, of course, challenged him; they fought the next day and Marmont
was wounded in the arm. He spoke highly of the King of Prussia as a
military, unassuming, amiable, sensible man, and that he _does_ visit
the tomb of his wife.[84] Alexander, he said, was fond of diplomacy, an
amiable man, very brave, but not much of a general. I asked him what he
thought of the Duchess of Oldenburg. When I said she had excellent sense
and great information, he simply replied, "Oui, et peut-être un pen
trop." Of Constantine[85] he spoke with indignation, and his whiskers
vibrated as he described his detestable character--debauched, depraved,
cruel, dishonest, and a coward. Constantine was abusing a Colonel in
very gross tones, a short time ago, for misconduct and incompetency in
battle. "Indeed!" said the officer; "you must have been misinformed;
this cannot arise from your own observation, as I do not recollect
having ever seen you near me upon these occasions."
No wonder the Russians were moderate towards the inhabitants during the
campaign--their discipline was severe enough. Our friend the Major
caught 7 Cossacks plundering a cottage; he had them all tied up and
knouted them to death by the moderate infliction of 1,000 blows each. In
truth he seemed to hold the lives of these gentlemen, including the
Calmucs, rather cheap. "Pour moi," said he, "Je considere un Cossac, un
Calmuc et un Moineau à peu près comme la même chose."
At St. Avold we again fell in with a regiment of Russians, or rather
detachments from many regiments. Whoever they were they did not appear
to be in high favour with the Major. "Our army," said he, "is divided
into three classes--the first we can trust for discipline and ability;
the second consists of Cossacks and other irregulars, whose business is
reconnoitring, plundering, and running away when they see the Enemy; the
men before you compose the third--fellows who know nothing and do
nothing, but can stand quietly in the place assigned them and get killed
one after another without ever thinking of turning their backs"; and
their appearance was very like their character--patient, heavy,
slumbering, hard-featured countenance; sitting or standing without any
appearance of animation.
At St. Avold we began to lose the French language, and from this my
fluency was reduced to signs, or at most to a very laconic speech--"Ich
Englander, Ich woll haben Brod mitt Café," &c. At Dendrich, a little
village near Forbach, we crossed the new line of demarcation between
France and Austria, and found the towns chiefly occupied by Bavarians.
Unless I am much mistaken, this country will soon be a bone of
contention; the people (as far as I can judge in three days) are
dissatisfied, and the leaders of France look with a jealous eye on the
encroachment, and an imaginary line of separation will not easily be
respected. Here I saw what is meant by a German forest--as far as the
eye could reach all was wood. Austria may, if she pleases, by her new
accession of territory become charcoal vendor to the whole world. The
road is excellent, carried on in a fine, broad, straight line. Till
Buonaparte spoke the word, there was no regular communication between
Metz and Mayence, now there is not a more noble road for travelling. We
were now in the Hock country; in the Villages we bought what I should
have called wine of the same sort for 6d. a bottle....
On Thursday, the 21st, we entered Mayence, over and through similar
drawbridges, bastions, hornworks, counterscarps as at Metz; here we met
a curious assemblage. By the first Gate were stationed a guard of
Prussians with the British Lions on their caps, John Bull having
supplied some Prussian Regiments with Uniforms. At the next gate a band
of white Austrians, with their caps shaded with boughs of Acacia (you
will remember that their custom of wearing green boughs in their Hats
was interpreted by the French into a premeditated insult). These, with
Saxons in red, Bavarians in light blue, and Russians in green, made out
the remainder of the motley crew. We found an excellent Inn, and dined
at a Table d'Hôte with about 30 people. The striking contrast we already
perceived between the French and Austrians was very amusing, the former
all bustle and loquacity with dark hair, the latter grave and sedate
with light hair; the Inns, accommodation, eating, &c., much cleaner; a
band played to us during dinner, and I was pleased to see the Austrian
moustachios recede with a smile of satisfaction as they listened to the
"Chasse de Henri Quatre."
There is little to be seen in the town. I found a most intelligent
bookseller, and was tantalised with the number of fine Engravings, &c.,
I might have purchased for a trifle....
I have heard a curious political report repeated here, which is current
all over the Continent--that Austria has sold the Netherlands and
Brabant to England; the report gains credit probably because the towns
in that part of the country are still garrisoned with British troops.
Poor England is certainly not much beloved; we are admired, feared,
respected, and courted; but these people will have, and perhaps with
some reason, that upon all occasions our own Interest is the sole object
of consideration; that our Treaties have the good of ourselves and not
the peace of Europe at heart; and so far they carry this opinion, that I
was very near getting into a quarrel with a fat man in the Diligence who
spoke it as a common idea that we fought with our money and not with our
blood, for that we were too rich to risk our lives, and had there been a
bridge that Napoleon would have been in London long ago. I told him he
knew nothing at all about the matter (to which, by the bye, he
afterwards virtually assented), and as a Frenchman's choler does not
last long, we were good friends the rest of the journey, and he
apologised for his behaviour, saying, it was a failing of his--"de
s'échauffer bientôt." Upon one point we agreed, too, in politics, viz.,
being Anti-Napoleonites.
Now for the Rhine. At 10 o'clock on Friday, July 22nd, in a little
rotten, picturesque-looking boat and two men (preferring a private
conveyance to the public passage boats for the convenience of stopping
at pleasure) we left Mayence; the river here is about half a mile
across, traversable by a bridge of boats. The Maine falls into it just
above the town, and there appears nothing on the Frankfort or Strasburgh
side to interest a traveller's eye, the country being flat vine or corn
land. The Stream runs with a steady rapidity of about three and a half
or 4 miles an hour, so that in a boat, with the addition of oars, you
may proceed at the rate of about 6 miles an hour. The distance to
Cologne is about 120 miles. On the bank of the River we saw some of
those immense floats preparing which are composed of timbers for the
Holland markets. We glided with an imperceptible motion down the stream,
expecting as we proceeded to behold the magnificent ruins of which we
had heard so much. But, alas! village succeeded village, town followed
town, and yet not a single turret made its appearance. We sat with our
sketch books in battle array, but our pencils were asleep; we began to
regret the uninteresting, even country we had passed from Metz to
Mayence, and the time which might be called lost in coming so far for so
useless a purpose, and to make vow after vow that we would never in
future believe the account given by others respecting people and places.
By this time our appetites began to grow keen, luckily, just at the time
when our spirits began to flag, and, accordingly, we went on shore at
Rudesheim, famous for its excellent hock, and having dispatched a dinner
and bottle of hock we ventured forth to explore, and, luckily, fell in
with a little Gothic round tower, which, with the dinner, rather raised
our spirits and enabled us to proceed 4 or 5 miles further to Bingen
when we turned a Corner....
I verily believe such another corner does not exist in the world. From
the corner of Bingen must be dated the beauties of the Rhine, and from
the corner of Bingen I commence my next letter; suffice it now to say
that the moment we turned the Corner we both, with one impulse, called
out, "Oh!" and sat in the boat with our hands uplifted in speechless
astonishment....
LETTER X.
AIX LA CHAPELLE, _July 27, 1814_.
I left you turning the corner of Bingen, now let me describe what there
presented itself. On the left a beautiful picturesque town, with tower
and picturesque-looking steeples placed each exactly on the spot an
artist would have selected, with hills and woods on each side and a
bridge running over a small river which emptied itself in the Rhine.
Immediately before us, on a small islet, stood the Tower of Mausthurm,
or the Mouse turret, so called from a tradition that a Baron once locked
up a number of his Vassals in a tower and then set fire to it and
consumed it and its inhabitants, in consequence of which certain mice
haunted him by day and by night to such a degree that he fled his
Country and built this solitary Tower on its island. But all this would
not do. The Mice pursued him to his Island, and the tale ends in his
being devoured by them there.
On both sides the river hills covered with vines and woods rose
abruptly, and on the right, tottering on a pinnacle that frowns over the
flood, stood the Castle of Ehrenfels....
It would be quite impossible, and indeed unnecessary (as my sketch-book
can best unfold the tale), to describe all we saw. For above 100 miles,
with little interruption, the same scenery presented itself, attaining
its superlative point of grandeur in the neighbourhood of Lorich and
Bacharach. It might be called a perfect Louvre of old Castles, each
being a chef d'oeuvre of its species. I could almost doubt the
interference of a human hand in their creation. Placed upon elevated and
apparently impossible crags, they look more like the fortresses of the
Giants when they warred against the Gods than any thing else. But the
Castles were not the only points of attraction. Every mile presented a
village as interesting as the battlements which threatened to crush
them to death from above. Each vied with its neighbour in picturesque
beauty, and the people as well as the buildings in these remote nooks
and corners partook of the wild character of the scenery. A shower of
rain and close of the day induced us to make Bacharach our
sleeping-place. The Landlord, with his night-cap on his head and pipe in
his mouth, expressed no surprise at our appearance. The coffee and the
milk and the hock came in due season when he had nodded acquiescence to
my demand, and he puffed away with as much indifference as if two
strange Englishmen had not been in his house. We found good clean beds,
and should have slept very well but for the deep-toned Bell of the
Church within a few yards of us, which tolled the time of night every
half-hour, and for a watchman who, by way of murdering the little sleep
which had survived the sound of the Bell, sounded with all his might a
cow-horn, and then, as if perfectly satisfied that he had awaked every
soul in the village, bawled out the hour and retired, leaving them just
time to fall asleep again before the half-hour called for a repetition
of his exertions.
Every evening about dusk, in our course down the river, a curious
Phenomenon presented itself which to me, as an Entomologist, had
peculiar charms. We were surrounded as far as the eye could reach with
what appeared to be a fall of snow, but which, in fact, was a cloud of
beautiful white Ephemera just emerged from their Chrysalis state to
flutter away in their perfection for one or two hours before their
death. I mention this circumstance now, whilst it is fresh in my memory,
for I really should hesitate in relating it before company for fear of
being accused of traveller's stories. I had heard of them before, and
was therefore not so much surprised, though the infinite number was
truly astonishing.
On Saturday, 23rd, we dined and spent an hour or two in Coblentz, which,
situated at the junction of the Moselle with the Rhine, is strongly
fortified towards the land. There is little worth notice in the town
except a Stone fountain erected by Napoleon, from the pipes of which run
the united streams of the two rivers. Upon these are carved in large
letters the two following inscriptions, the one immediately below the
other in characters precisely similar:--
A.N. MDCCCXII.
Mémorable par la Campagne
Contre les Russes
Sous la Préfecture de Jules Dragon.
* * * * *
Vu et approuvé par nous
Commandant Russe de la ville de Coblentz
Le Ier. Janvier 1814.
At Coblentz as well as at Cologne the Rhine is passed by a flying
bridge--_i.e._, a large boat moored to several other smaller ones, whose
only use is to keep the large one steady. It swings from bank to bank,
according as the mooring line is placed on one side or the other, merely
by the action of the current producing a sort of compound motion.
Coblentz is completely commanded by the heights of Ehrenbreitstein, a
rock as high as Dover, the summit and side covered with the ruins of the
fortress which the French blew up. The people in this country are pretty
well satisfied with the change of affairs. They led a life of
unsupportable tyranny under the rod of Napoleon. The river was crowded
with custom house officers. Not a man could pass without being
personally searched for Coffee and sugar in every part of his dress. All
they lament now is the uncertainty of their fate. Many expressed a hope
that the report of their being sold to England might be true. All they
want is certainty, and then their commerce will revive. As it is,
nothing can be more uninteresting in a commercial point of view than
this noble river. We did not see above a dozen Merchants' barks in the
course of 120 miles, and yet they say trade is tenfold greater than when
Napoleon governed. Below Coblentz we passed some of the Châteaux of the
German Princes, which are generally large, uncomfortable-looking houses,
fitted up, as far as external examination allowed us to judge, without
taste. The river became rather dull, but at Andernach, where we slept,
it began to improve and to promise better for the next morning, and for
some miles we were not disappointed.
We were under the necessity of travelling on the Sunday, which in our
situation I certainly held to be no crime. What I could do I did in
inducing our Boatmen to attend their Mass. Religion, which appears to be
nearly extinct in France, is by no means so in Germany. We find the
churches all well attended and plentifully scattered over the whole
country. In the course of the morning we passed a large Chapel dedicated
to St. Apollonius, and noted for its Miracles, all of which were
recorded by our Boatmen with the air of implicit reverence and belief.
It happened to be the festival of the Saint, and from a distance of 10
or 20 miles even the road was crowded with persons going or coming to
their favourite shrine. You will recollect what Mme. de Staël says of
the Germans' taste for religious music. Of this we had a specimen
to-day. As we passed the height upon which the Chapel stood a boat
containing 40 or 50 people put off from the shore and preceded us for
several miles chaunting almost the whole way hymns and psalms. In the
Evening, soon after leaving Bonn, we came up with another containing
about 120, who every quarter of an hour delighted us with the same
strains. They glided with the stream, and gave us time to row alongside,
and we continued in their company the remainder of the day.
Could I have heard and not have seen all would have been perfect, but
the charm was almost broken by the heterogeneous mixture of piety and
indifference, outward practice and inward negligence. Some were telling
their beads and chattering Pater Nosters, some were at one moment on
their knees, in the next quarrelling with their neighbour; but, after
all, the general effect was so solemn and imposing that I was willing to
spare my criticisms, and give them credit for perhaps more than they
deserved. Conceive such a concourse of persons, on one of the finest
Evenings imaginable, floating silently with the stream, and then at a
signal given bursting forth into songs of praise to God--all perfect in
their respective parts, now loud, now low, the softer tones of the women
at one time singing alone. If the value of a Sabbath depends on the
religious feelings excited, I may safely say I have passed few so
valuable. They had no Priest amongst them, the hymns were the
spontaneous flow of the moment. Whenever one began the rest were sure to
follow.
When upon the subject of music I must be the advocate of Mme. de Staël.
She has been accused of falsehood in stating that in the Cottages in
Germany a Piano Forte was a necessary piece of furniture. I cannot from
my own knowledge go quite so far, but from my short experience of German
manners I may safely say there is no nation in which Music is so
popular. We have heard the notes of pianos and harpsichords issuing from
holes and corners where they might least be expected, and as for flutes
and other instruments, there is scarcely a village in which, in the
course of an hour, you will not hear a dozen.
At Cologne we were lodged at a French Inn kept by the landlord and his
wife alone--no waiters, no other attendance--and yet the house was
spacious, clean, and excellent. I never met with more attention and wish
to accommodate, and not only in the house; the exertions of our host
were exerted still further in our behalf. He introduced us to a Club
chiefly composed of French Germans, who were as hospitably inclined as
himself. One gentleman invited us to his house, would give us some
excellent hock, introduced us to his family, amongst the rest a little
fellow with a sabre by his side, with curling locks and countenance and
manner interesting as Owen's. Hearing I was fond of pictures and painted
glass, he carried me to a fine old Connoisseur, his father-in-law, whose
fears and temper were a good deal roused by the "peste," as he termed
it, of still having half a dozen Cossacks in his house. However, they
were officers, and by his own account did him no harm whatever; but for
fear of accidents he had unpanelled his great dining-room. Our friend
had a large and excellent house, in a style very unlike and far more
magnificent than is usually met with in England. In return for his
civility I was delighted to have it in my power to give him a few ounces
of our Pecco Tea which remained of our original stock. Travelling in
Germany is certainly neither luxurious nor rapid; the custom of hiring
a carriage for a certain distance and taking post horses does not extend
here, and you are therefore reduced to the following dilemma, either
taking a Carriage and the same horses for your journey or the "Post
Waggon," or Diligence, which is of the two rather more rapid. Of two
evils we preferred the last, and at half-past 8 this morning were landed
at Aix la Chapelle, having performed the journey of 45 miles in 12 and a
half hours shaken to death, choked with dust, and poisoned with tobacco,
for here a great hooked pipe is as necessary an appendage to the mouth
as the tongue itself. Under the circumstances above mentioned, with the
Thermometer at about 98 into the bargain, you may conceive we were
heartily glad to run from the coach office to the Baths as instinctively
as young ducks. On looking over the list of persons visiting the place,
we were delighted to find the names of Lord and Lady Glenbervie[86] and
Mr. North.[87] Accordingly, having first ascended the highest steeple in
the town, and been more disgusted than in any place I have seen since
Spain, with virgins and dolls in beads and muslins, and pomatum and
relics of saints' beards, and napkins from our Saviour's tomb, and
mummeries quite disgraceful, we went to call upon them....
We find this, like every other town and village, swarming with Prussian
troops. General Kleist commands, and has no less an army than 170,000.
This seems very like a determination of the King of Prussia not to give
up the slice he has gained in the grand continental scramble. Every
uniform we saw was of British manufacture. An officer told me we had
furnished sufficient for 70,000 Infantry and 20,000 Cavalry.
There is little to be seen in this place. The country about reminded me
most of England; for the first time on the continent we saw hedges and
trees of tolerable size growing amongst them. We were directed above all
other things to pay our respects to the great gambling table. It is,
indeed, one of the Lions of the Town; the room is splendid in size, and
everybody goes to see it. It is open 3 times a day for about 2 or 3
hours each time. About 50 or 60 people were winning or losing round a
large table at a game apparently something like vingt un; not a word was
said, but money was shovelled to the right and left very plentifully....
I forgot to mention that near Linz on the Rhine we passed a headland
fronted and inlaid with as fine a range of Basaltic columns as the
Giant's Causeway, some bent, some leaning, some upright. They are
plentiful throughout that part of the country, and are remarkably
regular; all the stone posts are formed of them, and even here I still
see them....
[Illustration: FRENCH DILIGENCE.]
LETTER XI.
BRUXELLES, _29th_.
After a night and greater part of two days passed in a species of oven
called a French Diligence, with Réaumur Thermometer at 23--hotter, you
will observe, than is necessary to hatch silkworms, and very nearly
sufficient to annihilate your unfortunate brother and husband--did we
arrive at Bruxelles.... I must give you a few details that you may fully
understand the extent of our misery. We arrived at Liège all well, with
only two other passengers; conceive our sorrow when on re-entering the
Diligence after dinner we found besides ourselves and a lady the places
occupied by a Dutch officer, who sat gasping without his coat, and so
far exhausted by the heat, though he had been ten years in Batavia, that
his pipe hung dangling as if he had not breath sufficient to keep its
vestal fire alive, and a lady with two children besides living
intruders. A net from the top was filled with bags, baskets, and
band-boxes. Our night was sad indeed, and the groans of our
fellow-travellers and the ineffectual fluttering of a fan which the
Officer used proved how little they were satisfied with the order of
things. The children were crammed with a succession of French Plums,
almonds, garlicked mutton, liqueurs, and hock, all of which ingredients
the kind mother endeavoured to cement on their Stomachs by Basons of
milk at sunrise, but no sooner had a few additional jolts brought these
bons-bons into close contact than the windows were occupied the rest of
the journey by the stretched-out heads of the poor children.
The heat has been more excessive for the last 4 or 5 days than has been
experienced for many years in this country; and, in short, when _I_
think it worth while to mention heat as the cause of real inconvenience,
you may consider it such as would have thrown you into a fever. Enough
of our personal sufferings, which you may easily conceive have been few
indeed if the above is worth recording....
I left Aix la Chapelle with no great regret. The Country round it is
pretty, much resembling Kent, but as a town or watering-place it has
nothing to recommend but its gambling-table. I expected to have found a
museum of human nature and national character.--Tables d'hôtes crowded
with the best bred of all countries, but just the reverse. There were
Tables d'hôte's at the minor Inns tolerably frequented, but none at the
most fashionable; there the guests lived by themselves. There is no
point of rendezvous, no promenade, no Assembly room, where the
concentrated world may be seen. Like Swedenborgh's theory of living in
the midst of invisible spirits, so at Aix la Chapelle (unless time and
opportunity may have thrown him into private circles) a traveller may be
surrounded by Princes and Potentates without knowing or benefiting by
their illustrious presence; the Glenbervies made the same complaint.
From Aix to Liège we had the company of a very pleasant, well-informed
citizen of Liège (indeed, all the military classes in Germany seem well
informed), who in pathetic terms lamented his lot. In the cutting up of
this grand continental dish Prussia has had Benjamin's mess in this part
of the country. We have his troops, with few exceptions, forming a
cordon within the Rhine from Saarbruck to Liège, and they are by no
means popular. We have clothed them, and all the people feed them,
besides having been called upon for contributions. It is flattering to
see the high respect shown to the British character, which increases as
opportunities occur of observing its effects. If we were like the people
of Bruxelles (said our Liègeois) all would be well; we should rejoice in
having a garrison. British troops, so far from exacting contributions or
demanding free quarters, pay for everything, are beloved by the people,
and money circulates, whereas under the Prussian government we pay all,
are put to all manner of inconvenience, and receive neither thanks nor
satisfaction. They appear to have been peculiarly unfortunate in all
wars. Poor Liège has received a thump from one, a kick from another, and
been robbed by a third. The Austrians have burnt their Suburbs, the
Republicans sold their national and ecclesiastical Estates, and lately
they have had the pleasure of being pillaged by French Marshals and
satisfying the voracious appetite of the Crown Prince, who put them to
an expense of 150,000 frs. in providing his table for 7 weeks, and when
they hinted that they thought it but fair their Royal visitor should pay
for his own dinners, he departed, leaving his bills unpaid. He seems to
have been secreting himself here like a Cat in a barn watching the
motions of the mice, acting solely from interested motives, and ready to
pounce upon whatever might be safely turned to his own advantage. When
the French retreated out of Holland the Duke of Tarentum[88] did the
poor people at Liège the honour of making their town a point in the line
of his march. He stopped one night, and because the inhabitants did not
illuminate and express great joy at his illustrious presence he demanded
an immediate contribution of 300,000 frs., 150,000 of which were paid
the next morning. Luckily the Allies appeared towards Noon, and I hope
his Grace will not get the remainder.
In the character of almost all these French military leaders there are
such blots and stains that one sickens at the thought of being of the
same species. It would be endless to recount the acts of rapacity
committed by all these engines of Imperial France; conscious that their
throne might one day fall, they lost no time in amassing wealth, and
pillage was the watchword from the Cathedral to the Cottage. Lisle is in
the hands of the French, and by their own account the people have
suffered every species of misery, yet they are strong for Napoleon,
Garrison and Citizen, and I cannot find that they ever vented their
feelings in any other way than in nicknaming their General Maison[89] (a
cruel Tyrant who destroyed all their suburbs under pretence they might
be in the way in case of a siege, which might have been done in a day
had the Allies ever thought of such a thing); he is in consequence
called General Brise Maison, and then the foolish people laugh and cry,
"Que c'est bon cela," think they have done a great feat and submit like
lambs. The country from Liège to Brussels wears the same Anglicised
face--hedgerows and trees without any leading features. Bruxelles is a
nice town--and really it was a gratification in passing the gate to see
a fat John Bull keeping guard with his red coat. The Garrison consists
of about 3,000, amongst the rest a regiment of Highlanders whose dress
is the marvel of the people. A French Lady who came with us from Liège
had seen some and expressed her utter surprise, and as if she was
speaking to one who doubted the fact, she repeated, "C'est vrai!
actuellement rien qu'un petit Jupon--mais comment!" and then she lifted
her eyes and hands and reiterated, "petit jupon--et comment,"
concluding, as if she almost doubted the evidence of her own senses, "Je
les ai vus moi-même."
At Bruxelles at least we expected to see a numerous and genteel Table
d'hôte, and in this hope took up our quarters at a magnificent Hotel in
the Place Royale--very fine indeed, and very full of English, much too
full, for though we saw a few in the passages, or eyed them as they
peeped out of their doors, and sat down with about 15 or 20 at table,
"They spoke not, they moved not, they looked not around." By dint of
asking for salt and mustard, and giving my next neighbour as much
trouble as I could to show I had a tongue which I should be happy to
use, we towards the 3rd Act of the Entertainment began to talk, and
ascended gradually from the meats to the wines (here, it is true, there
was some prolixity), and then to other subjects pretty well, though the
burthen of my companion's song was that "the French were all d---- d
rascals and ought to be well licked." We tried the Play; there we found
a few English officers and one English lady, few of any other nation,
not 50 altogether, in a house dismal and dirty. There is a delightful
sort of wood and promenade called the Park....
[Illustration: DUTCH SHIPS.]