_Cheap travelling to Paris.--Diligences.--French
Postilions.--Spanish Postilions.--Norman Horses.--Bolbec.--Natives
of Caux.--Ivetot.--Return of Religion.--Santerre.--Jacobin.--The
Mustard-pot.--National Property._
Before I proceed on my journey, I must beg leave to present a very cheap
mode of travelling to Paris, from Havre, to those who have more time at
their command than I had. It was given to me by a respectable gentleman,
and an old traveller.
_Sols._
From Havre to Honfleur, by the passage-boat 10
From Honfleur to Pontaudemar, by land 3
From Pontaudemar to Labouille 3
From Labouille to Rouen, by water 12
From Rouen to Rolleboise, by land 6
From Rolleboise to Pontoise, by water 30
From Pontoise to Paris, by land 30
This progress, however, is tedious and uncertain.
At day-break we seated ourselves in the diligence. All the carriages of
this description have the appearance of being the result of the earliest
efforts in the art of coach building. A more uncouth clumsy machine can
scarcely be imagined. In the front is a cabriolet fixed to the body of
the coach, for the accommodation of three passengers, who are protected
from the rain above, by the projecting roof of the coach, and in front
by two heavy curtains of leather, well oiled, and smelling somewhat
offensively, fastened to the roof. The inside, which is capacious, and
lofty, and will hold six people with great comfort, is lined with
leather padded, and surrounded with little pockets, in which the
travellers deposit their bread, snuff, night caps, and pocket
handkerchiefs, which generally enjoy each others company in the same
delicate depositary. From the roof depends a large net work, which is
generally crouded with hats, swords, and band boxes, the whole is
convenient, and when all parties are seated and arranged, the
accommodations are by no means unpleasant.
Upon the roof, on the outside, is the imperial, which is generally
filled with six or seven persons more, and a heap of luggage, which
latter also occupies the basket, and generally presents a pile, half as
high again as the coach, which is secured by ropes and chains, tightened
by a large iron windlass, which also constitutes another appendage of
this moving mass. The body of the carriage rests upon large thongs of
leather, fastened to heavy blocks of wood, instead of springs, and the
whole is drawn by seven horses. The three first are fastened to the
cross bar, the rest are in pairs, all in rope harness and tackling. The
near horse of the three first, is mounted by the postilion, in his great
jack boots, which are always placed, with much ceremony, like two tubs,
on the right side of his Rosinante, just before he ascends. These
curious protectors of his legs, are composed of wood, and iron hoops,
softened within by stuffing, and give him all the dignity of riding in a
pair of upright portmanteaus. With a long lash whip in his hand, a
dirty night cap and an old cocked hat upon his head, hallooing
alternately "à gauche, à droit," and a few occasional sacre dieus, which
seem always properly applied, and perfectly understood, the merry
postilion drives along his cattle. I must not fail to do justice to the
scientific skill with which he manages on horseback, his long and heavy
coach whip; with this commanding instrument, he can reanimate by a
touch, each halting muscle of his lagging animals, can cut off an
annoying fly, and with the loud cracking of its thong, he announces,
upon his entrance into a town, the approach of his heavy, and clattering
cavalcade. Each of these diligences is provided with a conducteur, who
rides upon the imperial, and is responsible throughout the journey, for
the comfort of the passengers and safety of the luggage. For his trouble
the passenger pays him only thirty sols for himself, and fifteen more
for the different postillions, to be divided amongst them, for these the
donor is thanked with a low bow, and many "bien obligés," in the name of
himself and his contented comrades.
Our companions proved to be some of our old friends the emigrants, who
had thrown aside their marine dishabille, and displayed the appearance
of gentlemen. We were much pleased with again meeting each other. Their
conversation upon the road was very interesting, it was filled with
sincere regret for the afflictions of their country, and with
expressions of love and gratitude towards the english. They told us many
little tales of politeness, and humanity which they had received from my
countrymen in the various towns, where their destiny had placed them.
One displayed, with amiable pride, a snuff box, which he had received as
a parting token of esteem, another a pocket book, and each was the
bearer of some little affectionate proof of merit, good conduct, or
friendship.
One of these gentlemen, the abbè de l'H----, whose face was full of
expression, tinctured with much grief, and attendant indisposition, with
a manner, and in a tone, which were truly affecting, concluded a little
narrative of some kindness which he had received, by saying, "if the
english and my country are not friends, it shall not be for want of my
prayers. I fled from France without tears, for the preservation of my
life, but when I left England, I confess it, I could not help shedding
some." They did not disgrace the generous abbè--such a nation was worthy
of such feelings.
Our horses were of the norman breed, small, stout, short, and full of
spirit, and to the honour of those who have the care of them, in
excellent condition. I was surprised to see these little animals running
away with our cumbrous machine, at the rate of six or seven miles an
hour.
We traced the desolating hand of the revolution as soon as we ascended
the first hill.
Our road lay through a charming country. Upon the sides of its
acclivities, surrounded by the most romantic scenery of woods and corn
fields, we saw ruined convents, and roofless village churches, through
the shattered casements of which the wind had free admission.
We breakfasted at a neat town called Bolbec, seven leagues from Havre,
where we had excellent coffee, butter, and rolls. All the household of
our inn looked clean, happy, and sprightly.
This is the principal town of the province of Caux, the women of which
dress their heads in a very peculiar, and in my humble opinion,
unbecoming manner. I made a hasty sketch of one of them who entered the
yard of the inn with apples for sale.
[Illustration: _A Woman of the province of Caux in Normandy._]
Such a promontory of cap and lace I never before beheld. She had been at
a village marriage that morning, and was bedecked in all her finery. The
people of this province are industrious and rich, and consequently
respectable. At the theatre at Rouen I afterwards saw, in one of the
front boxes, a lady from this country, dressed after its fashion; the
effect was so singular that it immediately induced me to distinguish
her, from the rest of the audience, but her appearance seemed to excite
no curiosity with any other person. Our breakfast cost us each fifteen
sous, to which may be added two sols more, for the maids, who waited
upon us with cheerful smiles, and habited in the full cushvois costume,
and which also entitled us to kisses and curtsies. I beg leave to oppose
our breakfast charge to the rumours which prevailed in England, that
this part of France was then in a state of famine. From this town, the
road was beautifully lined with beech, chesnut, and apple trees. The
rich yellow of the rape seed which overspread the surface of many of the
fields on each side, was very animating to the eye. From this vegetable
the country people express oil, and of the pulp of it make cakes, which
the norman horses will fatten upon. We had an early dinner at Ivetot,
five leagues distant from Bolbec. In ancient periods this miserable town
was once the capital of a separate kingdom. In our dining room were
three beds, or rather we dined in the bed room. I use the former
expression out of compliment to the pride of our little host, who
replied with some loftiness to one of our companions, who, upon entering
the room, and seeing so many accommodations for repose, exclaimed, with
the sharpness of appetite, "my good host, we want to eat, and not to
sleep;" "gentlemen," said our mortified little maitre d'hôtel, "this
chamber is the dining room, and it is thought a very good one." From its
appearance I should have believed him, had he sworn that it was the
state room of the palace of this ancient principality, of which this
wretched town was once the capital. It reminded me of an anecdote
related by an ancient english lady of fashion, when she first paid her
respects to James I, soon after his accession to the crown of England.
She mentions in her memoir, that his royal drawing room was so very
dirty, that after the levee she was obliged to recur to her comb for
relief. In plain truth, James I and his court were lousy.
Our master of the house was both cook and waiter. At dinner, amongst
several other dishes, we had some stewed beef, I requested to be
favoured with a little mustard, our host very solemnly replied, "I am
very sorry, citizen, but I have none, if you had been fortunate enough
to have been here about three weeks since, you might have had some." It
was more than I wished, so I ate my beef very contentedly without it.
With our desert we had a species of cake called brioche, composed of
egg, flour, and water; it is in high estimation in France.
It was in this town _only_ that I saw a specimen of that forlorn
wretchedness and importunity, which have been said to constitute the
general nuisance of this country.
In the shop of a brazier here, was exposed, a new leaden crucifix, about
two feet and a half high, for sale; it had been cast preparatory to the
reinauguration of the archbishop of Rouen, which was to take place upon
the next Sunday week, in the great cathedral of that city.
In consequence of the restoration of religion, the beggars, who have in
general considerable cleverness, and know how to turn new circumstances
to advantage, had just learnt a fresh mode of soliciting money, by
repeating the Lord's Prayer in French and Latin. We were treated with
this sort of importunate piety for near a mile, after we left Ivetot.
I have before mentioned, that the barbarous jargon of the revolution is
rapidly passing away. It is only here and there, that its slimy track
remains. The time is not very distant when Frenchmen wished to be known
by the name of Jacobins; it is now become an appellation of reproach,
even amongst the surviving aborigines of the revolution. As an instance
of it, a naval officer of rank and intelligence, who joined us at
Ivetot, informed us, that he had occasion, upon some matters of
business, to meet Santerre a few days before; that inhuman and vulgar
revolutionist, who commanded the national guards when they surrounded
the scaffold during the execution of their monarch. In the course of
their conversation, Santerre, speaking of a third person, exclaimed, "I
cannot bear that man; he is a Jacobin." Let all true revolutionary
republicans cry out, Bravo! at this.
This miscreant lives unnoticed, in a little village near Paris, upon a
slender income, which he has made in trade, not in the _trade of blood_;
for it appears that Robespierre was not a very liberal patron of his
servants. He kept his blood-hounds lean, and keen, and poorly fed them
with the rankest offal.
After a dusty journey, through a very rich and picturesque country, of
near eighty miles, we entered the beautiful boulevards[3] of Rouen,
about seven o'clock in the evening, which embowered us from the sun.
Their shade was delicious. I think them finer than those of Paris. The
noble elms, which compose them in four stately rows, are all nearly of
the same height. Judge of my surprise--Upon our rapidly turning the
corner of a street, as we entered the city, I suddenly found coach,
horses and all, in the aisle of an ancient catholic church. The gates
were closed upon us, and in a moment from the busy buzzing of the
streets, we were translated into the silence of shattered tombs, and the
gloom of cloisters: the only light which shone upon us, issued through
fragments of stained glass, and the apertures which were formerly filled
with it.
[3] Environs of a town, planted with stately trees.
My surprise, however, was soon quieted, by being informed, that this
church, having devolved to the nation as its property, by force of a
revolutionary decree, had been afterwards sold for stables, to one of
the owners of the Rouen diligences.
An old unsaleable cabriolet occupied the place of the altar; and the
horses were very quietly eating their oats in the sacristy!!
At the Bureau, we paid twelve livres and a half for our places and
luggage from Havre to this town.
[Illustration: _Rouen, from Mount St. Catherine._]