_Picturesque and Mechanical Theatre.--Filtrating and purifying
Vases.--English Jacobins.--A Farewell.--Messagerie.--Mal
Maison.--Forest of Evreux.--Lower Normandy.--Caen.--Hon. T.
Erskine.--A Ball.--The Keeper of the Sachristy of Notre Dame.--The
two blind Beggars.--Ennui.--St. Lo.--Cherbourg.--England._
I visited, one evening, a very beautiful exhibition, which I think
worthy of being noticed; it was the picturesque and mechanical theatre.
The company present were select and genteel. The room and stage were
upon a small scale; the former was very elegantly fitted up. The
spectacle consisted of scenery and appropriate little moving figures.
The first scene was a view of a wood in early morning, every object
looked blue, fresh, and dewy. The gradations of light, until the
approach of meridian day, were admirably represented. Serpents were seen
crawling in the grass. A little sportsman entered with his
fowling-piece, and imitated all the movements natural to his pursuit; a
tiny wild duck rose from a lake, and flew before him. He pointed his
gun, changed his situation, pointed it again, and fired. The bird
dropped; he threw it over his shoulders, fastened to his gun, and
retired. Waggons, drawn by horses about four inches high, passed along;
groups of peasantry followed, exquisitely imitating all the indications
of life. Amongst several other scenes was a beautiful view of the bay of
Naples, and the great bridge; over which little horses, with their
riders, passed in the various paces of walking, trotting and galloping.
All the minutiæ of nature were attended to. The ear was beguiled with
the patting of the horses' hoofs upon the pavement; and some of the
little animals reared, and ran before the others. There were also some
charming little sea-pieces, in which the vessels sailed with their heads
towards the spectators, and manoeuvred in a surprising manner. The whole
concluded with a storm and shipwreck. Sailors were seen floating in the
water, then sinking in the surge. One of them rose again and reached a
rock. Boats put off to his relief, and perished in the attempt. The
little figure was seen displaying the greatest agonies. The storm
subsided; tiny persons appeared upon the top of a projecting cliff, near
a watch tower, and lowered a rope to the little sufferer below, which he
caught, and, after ascending to some height by it, overwhelmed with
fatigue, lost his hold. After recovering from the fall, he renewed his
efforts, and at length reached the top in safety, amidst the
acclamations of the spectators, who, moved by this enchanting little
illusion, took much interest in the apparent distress of the scene.
Upon quitting the theatre, we found a real storm without. The lightning
flamed upon us from every quarter, and was succeeded by loud peals of
thunder. Whilst we were contemplating the tempest from the balcony of
Madame S----, a ball of fire fell very near us, and filled the room with
a sulphureous stench. A servant soon afterwards entered, almost
breathless, to inform his mistress, Madame R----, who was of the party,
that the fire-ball had penetrated her house, which was close adjoining,
without having effected any injury. Madame R---- laughed heartily, and
observed, "Well, it is very droll that the lightning should make so free
with my house when I am not at home." This little sprightly remark
dispersed the gloom which had overshadowed most of the ladies present.
All the large houses in Paris are well protected against the perilous
effect of electric fluid, by conductors, which are very judiciously
disposed.
An invention has lately made its appearance in Paris, which is as full
of utility as it is of genius. A house has been lately opened for the
sale of filtrating and purifying vases, to which the ingenious
constructor has given the most elegant etruscan shapes. They are capable
of refining the most fetid and corrupt water, by a process which, in its
operation, lasts about four minutes. The principle is the same as in
nature. The foul water is thrown into the vase, where it passes through
various strata of earth, which are compressed in a series of little
apartments, which retain its offensive particles, and from which it
issues as clear and as sweet as rock water. This discovery will prove of
infinite consequence to families who reside in the maritime parts of
Holland, and to many inland towns in France, where the water is
frequently very bad. I most cordially hope that the inventor will meet
with the remuneration which is due to his humane philosophy.
After having experienced a most cordial display of kindnesses and
hospitalities, I prepared to return to my own country, "that precious
stone set in the silver sea." I had to part with those who, in the short
space of one fleeting month, had, by their endearing and flattering
attentions, rivetted themselves to my affections, with the force of a
long, and frequent, and cherished intercourse, who, in a country where I
expected to feel the comfortless sensations of a foreigner, made me
forget that I was even a _stranger_. Amongst those who excited a
considerable share of my regret upon parting, were the elegant and
charming family of the S----s. As I was preparing to take my leave,
Madame S---- said, "You must not forget us because a few waves divide
our countries."
"If he will lend me his pocket-book," said one of her lovely daughters,
"I will try and see if my pencil will not preserve us in his memory, at
least for a little time."
I presented it to her, and in a few minutes she made an elegant little
sketch, which she called "The affectionate Mother." Amiable young
artist! may Time, propitious to the happiness of some generous being,
who is worthy of such an associate, hail thee with the blissful
appellation! and may the graceful discharge of those refined and
affecting duties which flow from connubial love, entitle thee, too much
esteemed to be envied, to the name of the modern Cornelia!
Several Englishmen, whilst I was at Paris, met with very vexatious
delays in procuring their passports to enable them to leave it, from a
mistaken course of application. Instead of applying to M. Fouche, or any
other municipal officer, I would recommend them to procure their
passport from their own embassador, and send it to the office of Mons.
Talleyrand for his endorsement; by which means they will be enabled to
quit the republic in two or three days after their application.
Having previously determined to return by the way of Lower Normandy,
upon the beauty and luxuriance of which I had heard much eulogy, about
half past five o'clock in the morning of the 21st of Prairial, I left my
hotel, and proceeded to the Messagerie, from which the diligences, all
of which are under the control of the nation, set out. The morning was
very beautiful. I was much entertained before I mounted that cumbrous
vehicle, which was to roll me a little nearer to my own coast, by
viewing the numerous groups of travellers and their friends, who
surrounded the different carriages as the horses were tackling to them.
In different directions of my eye, I saw about thirty men kissing each
other. The women in France never think their prerogatives infringed by
this anti-anglo mode of salutation. Some shed tears at parting; but the
cheek down which they trickled never lost its colour or vivacity. All
were animated; every eye looked bright; there was a gayety in their very
grief. "Bon voyage, bon voyage--Dieu vous benisse, Dieu vous benisse,"
reiterated on all sides from sprightly faces, stretched out of the
window frames of the massy machine, as it rattled through the gates of
the yard, to the incessant crackings of the postilion's long lash. I
soon afterwards found myself seated in the diligence for Cherbourg, in
company with two ladies, and three gentlemen, who were all polite and
pleasing. In the cabriole, forward, was a french captain in the army,
who had been in Tippoo's service at the time of the surrender of
Seringapatam. He looked abominably dirty in his travelling habiliments;
but that, in France, is now no just indication of inferiority or
vulgarity.
We passed by the Place de la Concorde, upon the statues and buildings of
which, and the gardens of the Thuilleries, the fresh and early sun shone
most beautifully. My merry, but feeling fellow travellers, waving their
hands, addressed a short apostrophe to these suburb objects, and
exclaimed, "adieu ma tres jolie ville--ah! tres jolie ville adieu."
For near three miles after leaving the barrier, we passed through
plantations of roses, which supply the markets of Paris with that
beautiful flower, which, transferred thence, adorn the toilets, the
vases, and the bosoms of the fair parisians, and form the favourite
bouquets of the petite maitres; on each side of the road were cherry
trees, in full bearing, which presented a very charming appearance. We
soon reached the water works of Marli, which supply the jets d'eau of
Versailles. They are upon a vast scale, and appear to be very curious. A
little further on we passed Mal Maison, the country, and chief residence
of the first consul and his family. It is an ancient house, embosomed in
beautiful woods and gardens. At the entrance are large military lodges,
for the accommodation of a squadron of the consular cavalry, who mount
guard when their general is here.
[Illustration: _Malmaison._]
At St. Germain's we breakfasted, upon pork cutlets, excellent bread,
wine, and cherries, for twenty sols, or ten pence english. At Mante we
had an excellent dinner, of several dishes, for thirty sols, or one
shilling and three pence english. Soon after we had passed Mante, we
left the higher norman road, and entered a country extremely picturesque
and rich. We were conducted through the forest of Evreux, by an escort
of chasseurs. This vast tract of land is infested by an immense
banditti, who live in large excavations in the earth, similar to the
subterranean apartments of the celebrated robbers, in whose service Gil
Blas was rather reluctantly enrolled, and generally assail the
traveller, with a force which would render common resistance perilous,
and unavailing. This forest, in the course of the year, furnishes
considerable employ for the guillotine of Caen, where the tribunal of
justice is seated. The appearance of our guards was terrific enough to
appal such valiant souls, as once animated the frames of _prince Hal_,
and his merry friend _Ned Poins_. They wore roman helmets, from which
descended, to the bottom of their backs, an immense tail, of thick black
horsehair, their uniform was light green, and looked rather shabby.
We passed the forest without any molestation, and supped at the town of
Evreux, which is very pleasant, where we halted for about four hours. As
we were afterwards proceeding, I prepared myself to enjoy a little
sleep, and as I reclined for this purpose with my hat over my face, in a
corner of the carriage, I overheard one of my fellow travellers observe
to the other, "the englishman is sleeping," to which he replied, "no, he
is not sleeping, he is only thinking, it is the character of his
nation."
The french cannot bear the least appearance of thought; they have a
saying, "un homme qui rit ne sera jamais dangereux."
The next morning we breakfasted at Lisieux, an ancient town, in which
are the remains of a fine convent, which formerly belonged to the
Order of the Capuchins. For four or five miles before we approached the
town, the laughing and animated faces of groups of peasantry, all in
their jubilee dresses, the old mounted upon asses, and the young walking
by the sides of them, hastening to the town, announced to us, that a
fair, and merry making was to be held there, on that day. Lisieux was
quite in a bustle. About six o'clock in the evening of the same day, we
arrived at Caen, the capital of Lower Normandy. My fare to this city
from Paris, amounted to thirty livres, including my luggage. I had not
completed my dinner at the Hôtel de la Place, before an english servant
entered my room, to inform me, that his mistress, Mrs. P----, who, with
her daughters, and another young lady, had the rooms over mine,
presented her compliments to me, and requested me to take my coffee with
them that evening. I must confess I was at first a little surprised at
the message, for the english are not very remarkable for politeness and
attention to one another in a foreign country.
[Illustration: _Caen._]
After I had finished my desert, I made my bow to Mrs. P----, and her
family, who proved to be very pleasant, and accomplished people, and
were making the tour of France with english servants. They had been in
Caen near three weeks, where they had a large acquaintance of the first
respectability. This unexpected introduction became additionally
agreeable, upon my discovery at the Messagerie, that the diligence for
Cherbourg would not proceed, till three days from the time of my
arrival. The next morning I rambled with my new friends about the city,
which is large, and handsome, and is watered by the river Orne. It is
much celebrated for its lace trade; on that day I dined with Mrs. P----,
and a french party, and was regaled with an english dinner, cooked, and
served up by her own servants. The filth of the french kitchen is too
well known, to make it necessary for me to say how delicious such a
dinner was. The french admit themselves that their cooks are destitute
of cleanliness.
The Convent of the Benedictines, which is converted into the palace of
the prefect, is a noble building. The gardens belonging to it are well
arranged. The promenade called de la Cour is very charming, from which
the city is seen to great advantage. The water of the Orne is rather
nauseous, but is not considered unwholesome. The Palais de Justice is a
fine modern structure. In its courts of law, I had again an opportunity
of hearing the forensic elocution of Normandy. The gestures, and
vehemence of the orators here, as at Rouen, appeared to me to be
tinctured with the extravagance of frenzy. But perhaps my ears, and eyes
have been rendered somewhat too fastidious by having been frequently
banqueted with the grace, animation, and commanding eloquence of the
unrivalled advocate of the british bar; who, when he retires from the
laborious duties of the crowded, and admiring forum, where his acute
sagacity has so often unfolded the dark compact involutions of human
obliquity, where his wit and fancy have covered with the choicest
flowers, the dreary barrenness of technical pleading; will leave behind
him that lasting, and honourable respect and remembrance, which
faculties so extensively beneficial, must ever excite in the minds of
men who have been instructed, delighted, and benefited by their
splendid, and prosperous display.
In this city was pointed out to me, the house in which the celebrated
Charlotte Corday resided, who, by her poniard, delivered France of the
monster, Marat, on Sunday, the 14th of July, 1793. There is some
coincidence in the crimes, and fate of Caligula and Marat, both perished
by the avengers of their country, whilst in the act of approaching their
baths. Posterity will embalm, with its grateful remembrance, the
patriotic heroism of this great, and distinguished female, and in her
own firm, and eloquent language, will say of her, "that crime begets
disgrace, and not the scaffold."
On the evening after my arrival at Caen, I was invited to an elegant
ball, which was given by the lady of the paymaster general of the
district, in one of the government houses. I had before witnessed the
dancing of the higher orders of people in Paris, and from this reason
was not surprised in contemplating the exquisite grace which was here
displayed. The party consisted of near eighty persons. Amongst them were
the judges of the district, and the principal officers quartered in the
city, and its neighbourhood, the latter were attired in superb military
dresses. Amongst the ladies were several beautiful, well dressed young
women, who exhibited their persons to great advantage. The grave, and
elderly part of the company played at buillotte, which is at present the
favourite french game. In France to please and to be pleased, seem to be
the two presiding principles in all their meetings. An elegant young
officer, who had distinguished himself at the battle of Marengo,
observing that the musicians appeared to be a little fatigued, by the
contribution of their exhilarating services towards the festivity of the
evening, supplied their room, whilst they refreshed themselves, and
struck up an english country dance on one of the violins. The party
attempted to dance it, but to show how arbitrary habit is, in the
attempt, all those powers of grace, which they had before so beautifully
displayed, retired as if influenced by the magic of some unpropitious
spirit. Amongst the party, was a little girl, about nine years old, who
was dressed in the highest style of fashion, and looked like a
fashionable milliner's doll. This little spoiled child was accustomed to
spend an hour at her toilette every morning, and to be tricked out in
all the ephemeral decoration of the haut ton. This little coquette
already looked out for admiration, and its foolish mother expressed the
greatest satisfaction, when any one, out of politeness to her, paid
attentions to the pert premature nursling. Our entertainment concluded
with a handsome supper, and we parted, highly delighted, at the dawn of
day. Nothing could be more flattering, than the attentions which, as an
englishman, I received from every one present.
After a few hours repose, I went with a large party to the church of
Notre Dame; in which there is a very fine altar piece. The keeper of
the sachristy, who was a very arch-looking little fellow, in spite of
the solemnity of the place in which we were, made us all smile (even a
young lady who was going to be confessed for the first time the next
day, lost a considerable proportion of her gravity) by informing us,
that during the time of terror he had run off with the Virgin Mary,
pointing to the image, and that to prevent the detection of
Robespierre's agents, he had concealed her in his bed for three years.
Nothing could exceed his joy in having saved her from the hatchet, or
the flames, from which impending fate, she was restored to her former
situation in this church; and was, when we saw her, by the extravagance
of her sprightly, and ardent protector, dressed in a white muslin gown,
spotted with silver; a little bouquet of artificial flowers graced her
bosom, and her wig was finely curled, and powdered. The figure in her
arms, which was intended to represent the infant Jesus, was dressed in a
style equally unsuitable; his hair was also curled, and powdered, and a
small cocked hat placed upon his head. Our delighted guide, whose eyes
sparkled with self-complacency, asked us if we had ever seen a prettier
Virgin Mary, or one dressed more handsomely. We were all much amused by
the quaintness of this man's conduct, although I am confident he had no
intention of exciting unbecoming sensations, for in saving this image,
he had exposed his life.
From Notre Dame, we went to the Abbaye aux Hommes, built by William the
Conqueror. It is a large lofty plain pile of building. The spires are
well proportioned, and very high. The pillars in the choir are, in my
humble opinion, too massy. Preparations were here making for the
celebration of the great festival called the Feast of God. We presented
to one of the priests, who, in the sachristy, was adorning the cradle of
our Saviour's image with flowers, some very fine moss roses, which in
France are very rare, which he received with great politeness. This
festival before the revolution was always superbly celebrated. It was
then renewed for the first time since the proscription of religion,
during which, all the costly habits of the priests, and rich vessels
used in the ceremonies of the church have been stolen, sold, or melted
down. Near the altar, which has been shattered by the axe of the
revolution, is the vault of the norman conqueror.
Upon our return to our hotel, we saw a considerable crowd assembled near
the bridge leading to de la Cour. Upon inquiring into the cause of this
assemblage, we found it was owing to a curious rencounter between two
blind beggars, who, in total darkness, had been waging an uncertain
battle for near six minutes. It appeared that one of them had for
several months, enjoyed quiet possession of the bridge, which happened
to be a great thoroughfare, and had during that time, by an undisputed
display of his calamity, contrived to pick up a comfortable recompense
for it; that within a few days preceding this novel fracas, another
mendicant, who had equal claims to compassion, allured by the repute of
his success, had deserted a less frequented part of the city, and had
presented himself at the other corner of the same bridge, where by a
more masterly selection of moving phrases, he soon not only divided, but
monopolized the eleemosynary revenues of this post of wretchedness. The
original possessor naturally grew jealous. Even beggars "can bear no
brother near the throne." Inflamed with jealousy, he silently moved
towards his rival, by the sound of whose voice, which was then sending
forth some of its most affecting, and purse-drawing strains, he was
enabled to determine whether his arm was within reach of the head of his
competitor, which circumstance, having with due nicety ascertained, he
clenched his fist, which in weight, size, and firmness, was not much
surpassed by the hard, and ponderous paw of a full-grown tiger, and with
all the force of that propulsion, which a formidable set of muscles
afforded, he felled his rival to the ground, and not knowing that he was
fallen, discharged many other blows, which only served to disturb the
tranquillity of the air. The recumbent hero, whose head was framed for
enterprises of this nature, soon recovered from the assault, and, after
many unavailing efforts in the dark, at length succeeded in opening one
of the vessels of the broad nose of his brawny assailant, whose blood,
enriched by good living, streamed out most copiously. In this condition
we saw these orbless combatants, who were speedily separated from each
other. Some of the crowd were endeavouring to form a treaty of
pacification between them, whether they succeeded I know not, for we
were obliged to leave the bridge of battle, before these important
points were arranged, to join a pleasant party at Mons. St. J----'s, an
opulent banker at Caen, to whom I had letters of introduction from Mons.
R----, the banker of Paris.
After spending the short time, during which I was detained at Caen, very
pleasantly, I resumed my seat in the diligence for Cherbourg, in which I
found a very agreeable woman, her two daughters, two canary birds, a
cat, and her kitten, who were, I found, to be my companions all the way.
After we left Caen, the roads became very bad. Our ponderous machine,
frequently rolled from one side to the other, and with many alarming
creakings, threatened us with a heavy, and perilous overthrow. At length
we arrived at Bayeux, where we dined, at the house of a friend of my
fair fellow traveller, to which she invited me with a tone of welcome,
and good wishes, which overpowered all resistance. We sat down to an
excellent dinner, at which was produced the usual favourite french dish
of cold turbot, and raw artichokes. After our repast, a fine young
woman, the daughter of the lady of the house, in a very obliging, but
rather grave manner, poured out a tumbler full of some delicious potent
liqueur, which, to my no small surprise, she presented me with; upon my
only tasting it, and returning it, she appeared to be equally surprised,
and confused. Her mother, observing our mutual embarrassment, informed
me, that in France it was understood that the english were troubled with
the ennui, or tristesse de coeur, and that they drank large draughts of
wine and spirits to expel the gloomy malady. I softened this opinion of
our common character, as well as I could, for, I fear, without offering
considerable outrage to truth, I could not wholly have denied it.
After dinner, we walked to the cathedral, which is a noble gothic pile,
and, upon our return, found the diligence in waiting for us. My
companions were attended to the door of the carriage by their hospitable
friends, between whom several kisses were interchanged. I took an
opportunity, just before I mounted the step, of stealing one of these
tokens of regard from the fair young damsel who had so courteously
offered me the liqueur, at the same time telling her, that in England, a
kiss was always considered as the best remedy for the tristesse de
coeur.--Away trotted our little norman steeds; and, notwithstanding they
had come all the way from Caen, they soon carried us over the hills on
this side of Bayeux. The eye communicated delight to the heart, whilst
it contemplated the vast extent of corn fields, which in this fertile
province undulated on all sides of us, in waves of yellow exuberance,
over which, embosomed in trees, at short distances, peeped the peaceful
and picturesque abode of the prosperous cottage farmer. The prospect
afforded an impressive contrast to the impolitic agricultural system,
which has lately obtained in England, by which cottage farms are
consolidated into ample domains of monopoly, and a baneful preference is
given in favour of the rearing of cattle, to the vital and bountiful
labours of the plough. A celebrated writer, who well knew in what the
real wealth of a nation consisted, has observed, that he who could make
two ears of corn grow upon a spot of ground, where only one grew
before, would deserve better of mankind than the whole race of
politicians. The high roads of Normandy are unnecessarily broad; hence
considerable portions of land remain uncultivated. A spacious road, like
every thing which is vast, excites an impression of grandeur; but in
this prolific department, the facilities of travelling, and the dignity
of the country, might be consulted with less waste. This prodigality is
perhaps attributable to the highways in France having shared but little
of its legislative attention; and accommodation appears to have been
sought rather by a lavish allotment of space, than by a judicious
formation, and frequent repair.
The inns along the road are very poor, although over the door of almost
every little cottage is written, in large characters, "Bon Cidre de
Victoire." There are also no regular post-horses to be met with. The
country, on all sides of us, was very mountainous and luxuriant, and
much resembled the southern parts of Devonshire. About seven o'clock in
the evening of the same day, we arrived at St. Lo, which is, without
exception, the cleanest and most charming, romantic little town, I saw
in France. It is fortified, and stands upon the top of a mountain, at
whose base is expanded a luxuriant scenery of woods and villages,
through which the riviere de Ville winds in beautiful meanders. The
inhabitants of this town appeared to be rich and genteel. In the evening
I supped at the table d'hôte, where there were several pleasant people.
At this town we slept, and set off, the next morning, very early, for
Valogne, where we dined; and in the evening, after passing a
considerable extent of rich meadow land, and descending a very steep
hill, the freshness of the sea air announced to us our near approach to
Cherbourg, where, at the hôtel d'Angleterre, I was soon afterwards
landed. For my place and luggage to this place I paid twenty-four
livres. My expenses upon the road were very reasonable. Here I had the
good fortune to find a packet which intended to sail to England in two
days, the master of which asked me only one guinea for my passage in the
cabin, provisions included. However, thinking that the kitchen of a
french vessel might, if possible, be more uncleanly than the kitchen of
a french inn, I resolved upon providing my own refreshments for the
little voyage.
[Illustration: _Cherbourg_]
Cherbourg is a poor and dirty town. After having heard so much of its
costly works and fortifications for the protection of its harbour, my
surprise was not little, upon finding the place so miserable. It is
defended by three great forts, which are erected upon rocks in the sea.
The centre one is about three miles off from shore, and is garrisoned by
1200 men. At a distance, this fort looks like a vast floating battery.
Upon a line with it, but divided by a distance sufficient for the
admission of shipping, commences the celebrated, stupendous wall, which
has been erected since the failure of the cones. It is just visible at
low water. This surprising work is six miles in length, and three
hundred french feet in breadth, and is composed of massy stones and
masonry, which have been sunk for the purpose, and which are now
cemented, by sea weed, their own weight and cohesion, into one immense
mass of rock. Upon this wall a chain of forts is intended to be erected,
as soon as the finances of government will admit of it. The expenses
which have already been incurred, in constructing this wonderful fabric,
have, it is said, exceeded two millions sterling. These costly
protective barriers can only be considered as so many monuments, erected
by the french to the superior genius and prowess of the british navy.
Whilst I was waiting for the packet's sailing, I received great
civilities from Mons. C----, the banker and american consul at
Cherbourg, to whom I had letters from Mons. R----. I rode, the second
evening after my arrival, to his country house, which was about nine
miles from the town. Our road to it lay over a prolific and mountainous
country. From a high point of land, as we passed along, we saw the
islands of Guernsey, Jersey and Alderney, which made a beautiful
appearance upon the sea. Upon our return, by another road, I was much
pleased with a group of little cottages, which were embosomed in a
beautiful wood, through which there was an opening to the sea, which the
sinking sun had then overspread with the richest lustre. As we entered
this scene of rustic repose, the angelus bell of the little village
church rang; and a short time afterwards, as we approached it, a number
of villagers came out from the porch, with their mass-books in their
hands, their countenances beaming with happiness and illuminated by the
sinking sun, which shone full upon them. The charms of this simple scene
arrested our progress for a short time. Under some spreading limes, upon
a sloping lawn, the cheerful cottagers closed the evening with dancing
to the sounds of one of the sweetest flagelets I ever heard, which was
alternately played by several performers, who relieved each other. In
France, every man is a musician. Goldsmith's charming picture of his
Auburn, in its happier times, recurred to me:--
"When toil remitting, lends its turn to play,
And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree."
The cross roads of France are very bad; but, to my surprise, although we
never could have had a worse specimen of them than what this excursion
presented to us, yet the norman hunter upon which I was mounted, carried
me over the deepest ruts, and abrupt hillocks, without showing the least
symptom of infirmity which so much prevails amongst his brethren of the
Devonshire breed. The norman horses are remarkable for lifting their
feet high, and the safety and ease with which they carry their riders.
In the morning of the day in which the packet was to sail, a favourable
breeze sprung up; and, after undergoing the usual search of the revenue
officers, in the execution of which they behaved with much civility, I
embarked, and bade adieu to continental ground. The vessel had the
appearance of being freighted with hot bread, with which the deck was
covered from one end to the other. This immense collection of smoking
loaves was intended for the supply of six men, and one woman, during a
passage which we expected to accomplish in thirty hours, or less!
The faithful associate of our young captain, to whom she had just been
married, either from motives of fondness or distrust, resolved upon
sharing with him the perils of the ocean.
The sea-sufferings of this constant creature, and the resignation with
which she endured them, sufficiently manifested the strength of her
affections; for she was obliged to keep below all the time, and could
afford but very little assistance in reducing the prodigious depot of
bread which we had on board.
Credulous mariners describe a species of the fair sex (I believe the
only one) who appear to much advantage upon the briny wave; but the
nature of our commander's lady not happening to be amphibious, she gave
such unequivocal proofs of being out of her proper element, that my
wishes for shore increased upon me every minute.
During our passage, I could not help contrasting the habits of the
english with the french sailors. The british tar thinks his allowance of
salt beef scarcely digestible without a copious libation of ardent
spirits, whilst the gallic mariner is satisfied with a little meagre
soup, an immoderate share of bread, and a beverage of water, poor cider,
or spiritless wine.
At length, after a passage of a day and a night, in which we experienced
the vicissitudes of a stiff breeze, and a dead calm, we beheld
----"That pale, that white-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes."
After passing another tedious night on board, owing to our being
becalmed within the Needles, I stepped upon the same landing stone from
which I first embarked for a country, where, in the centre of
proscriptions, instability and desolation, those arts which are said to
flourish only in the regions of repose, have, by their vigour and
unrivalled bloom, excited the wonder and admiration of surrounding
nations; where Peace, by her sudden and cherished reappearance, is
calling forth all the virtues from their hiding places, to aid in
effacing the corroding stains of a barbarous revolution, and in
restoring the moral and social character to its pristine polish, rank
and estimation.
GENERAL REMARKS.
The fact seems at first singular. Two of the greatest nations under
Heaven, whose shores almost touch, and, if ancient tales be true, were
once unsevered, call the natives of each other foreigners.
Jealousy, competition, and consequent warfare, have, for ages, produced
an artificial distance and separation, much wider, and more impassable,
than nature ever intended, by the division which she has framed; hence,
whilst the unassisted eye of the islander can, from his own shores, with
"unwet feet," behold the natural barrier of his continental neighbour,
he knows but little more of his real character and habits, than of those
of beings, who are more distantly removed from him, by many degrees of
the great circle.
The events which have happened in France for the last eleven years, have
rendered this separation more severe, and during that long and gloomy
interval, have wholly changed the national character. Those who once
occupied the higher class in the ascending scale of society, and who
have survived the revolution without leaving their country, are no
longer able to display the taste and munificence which once
distinguished them. In the capital, those who formerly were accustomed
to have their court yards nightly filled with carriages, and their
staircases lined with lacqueys, are now scarcely able to occupy one
third of their noble abodes. They cannot even enjoy the common
observances of friendship, and hospitality, without pausing, and
resorting to calculation. A new race of beings called the "nouveaux
enrichés," whose services have been chiefly auxiliary to the war, at
present absorb the visible wealth of the nation. Amongst them are many
respectable persons. The lower orders of the people have been taught, by
restless visionaries, to consider the destinations of Providence, which
had before, by an imperceptible gradation of social colouring, united
the russet brown to the magisterial purple, as usurpations over those
natural rights which have been impressed without illustration, and
magnified by a mischievous mystery. In the fierce pursuit of these
imaginary immunities, which they had been taught to believe had been
long withheld, they abruptly renounced all deference and decorum, as
perilous indications of the fallacy of their indefinable pretensions,
and were not a little encouraged by the disastrous desertion of their
superiors, who fled at the first alarm. In short, the revolution has, in
general, made the higher orders poor, and dispirited, and the lower
barbarous, and insolent, whilst a third class has sprung up, with the
silence and suddenness of an exhalation, higher than both, without
participating in the original character of either, in which the
principles of computation, and the vanity of wealth, are at awkward
variance.
Until lately, the ancient french and the modern french were antipodes,
but they are now converging, under a government, which, in point of
security, and even of mildness, has no resemblance, since the first
departure from the ancient establishments. The french, like the
libertine son, after having plunged in riot and excesses, subdued by
wretchedness, are returning to order and civilization. Unhappy people,
their tears have almost washed away their offences--they have suffered
to their heart's core. Who will not pity them to see their change, and
hear their tales of misery? Yet, strange to relate, in the midst of
their sighs and sufferings, they recount, with enthusiasm, the exploits
of those very men, whose heroic ambition has trampled upon their best
hopes, and proudest prosperity. Dazzled by the brilliancy of the
spreading flame, they forget that their own abode is involved in its
desolation, and augments the gloomy grandeur of the scene. To this cause
may, perhaps, be traced that singular union of grief and gayety, which
affords rather an impressive contrast to the more solemn consistency of
english sadness. The terrible experiment which they have tried, has,
throughout, presented a ferocious contest for power, which has only
served to deteriorate their condition, sap their vigour, and render them
too feeble either to continue the contest, or to reach the frontier of
their former character. In this condition they have been found by a man
who, with the precedent of history in one hand, and the sabre in the
other, has, unstained with the crimes of Cromwell, possessed himself of
the sovereignty; and, like Augustus, without the propensities which
shaded his early life, preserved the _name_ of a republic, whilst he
well knows that a decisive and irresistible authority can alone reunite
a people so vast and distracted; who, in the pursuit of a fatal phantom,
have been inured to change, and long alienated from subordination. I
would not wish such a government to be perpetual, but if it be
conducted with wisdom and justice, I will not hesitate to declare, that
I think it will ultimately prove as favourable to the happiness, as it
has been propitious to the glory of the french. A government which
breathes a martial spirit under a thin appearance of civil polity,
presents but a barren subject to the consideration of the inquirer. When
the sabre is changed into the sceptre, the science of legislation is
short, simple, and decisive. Its energies are neither entangled in
abstract distinctions, nor much impeded by the accustomed delays of
deliberation.
From the magnitude of the present ruling establishment in France, and
the judicious distribution of its powers, and confidence, the physical
strength can scarcely be said to reside in the _governed_.
A great portion of the population participates in the character of the
government. The bayonet is perpetually flashing before the eye. The
remark may appear a little ludicrous, but in the capital almost every
man who is not _near sighted_ is a soldier, and every soldier of the
republic considers himself as a subordinate minister of state. In short
the whole political fabric is a refined system of knight's service.
Seven centuries are rolled back, and from the gloom of time behold the
crested spirit of the norman hero advance, "with beaver up," and nod his
sable plumes, in grim approval of the novel, gay, and gaudy feodality.
If such an expectation may be entertained, that time will replace the
ancient family on the throne, I am far from believing that it can offer
much consolation to the illustrious wanderer, who as yet, has only
tasted of the name of sovereignty. If the old royalty is ever restored,
it is my opinion, and I offer it with becoming deference, that, from
personal hatred to the present titular monarch, and the dread of
retaliation by a lineal revival of monarchy, the crown will be placed
upon the brows of one of the _collateral_ branches of the expatriated
family. The prince de Condé is the only member of that august house, of
whom the french speak with esteem, and approbation.
The treasury of the french is, as may be expected, not overflowing, but
its resources must speedily become ample. The necessities of the state,
or rather the peculations of its former factious leaders, addressed
themselves immediately to the purses of the people, by a summary process
completely predatory. Circuitous exaction has been, till lately, long
discarded. The present rulers have not yet had sufficient time to
digest, and perfect a financial system, by which the establishments of
the country may be supported by indirect, and unoffending taxation.
Wisdom and genius must long, and ardently labour, before the ruins, and
rubbish of the revolution can be removed. Every effort hitherto made to
raise the deciduous credit of the republic has been masterly, and
forcibly bespeaks the public hope, and confidence in favour of every
future measure.
The armies of the republic are immense; they have hitherto been paid,
and maintained by the countries which they have subdued; their
exigencies, unless they are employed, will in future form an
embarrassing subject of consideration in the approaching system of
finance. This mighty body of men, who are very moderately paid, are
united by the remembrance of their glory, and the proud consideration
that they constitute a powerful part of the government; an impression
which every french soldier cherishes. They also derive some pride, even
from their discipline: a military delinquent is not subject to ignoble
punishment; if he offend, he suffers as a soldier. Imprisonment, or
death, alone displaces him from the ranks. He is not cut down fainting,
and covered with the ignominious wounds of the dissecting scourge, and
sent to languish in the reeking wards of hospitals.
In reviewing the present condition of France, the liberal mind will
contemplate many events with pleasure, and will suspend its final
judgment, until wisdom, and genius shall repose from their labours, and
shall proclaim to the people, "behold the work is done."
It has been observed, that in reviewing the late war, two of the
precepts of the celebrated author of "The Prince," will hereafter be
enshrined in the judgments of politicians, and will be as closely
adhered to, as they have been boldly disregarded by that great man, who,
till lately, has long presided over the british councils. Machiavel has
asserted, that no country ought to declare war with a nation which, at
the time, is in a state of internal commotion; and that, in the
prosecution of a war, the refugees of a belligerent power ought not to
be confidentially trusted by the opposite nation which receives them.
Upon violating the former, those heterogeneous parties, which, if left
to themselves, will always embarrass the operations of their
government, become united by a common cause; and by offending against
the latter clause of this cautionary code, a perilous confidence is
placed in the triumph of gratitude, and private pique, over that great
love which nature plants and warmly cherishes in the breast of every
man, for his country. In extenuation of a departure from these political
maxims it may be urged, that the french excited the war, and that in the
pursuit of it, they displayed a _compound_ spirit, which Machiavel might
well think problematical, for whilst that country never averted its eye
from the common enemy, it never ceased to groan under the inflictions of
unremitting factions. Rather less can be said in palliation of the fatal
confidence, which was placed by the english government in some of the
french emigrants. I have mentioned these unhappy people in the
aggregate, with the respect which I think they deserve. To be protected,
and not to betray, was all that could in fairness, and with safety be
expected from them; it was hazarding too much to put swords in their
hands, and send them to their own shores to plunge them in the breasts
of their own countrymen: in such an enterprise
------------------"The native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."
The brave have not frequently wept over such a victim as Sombrieul.
Whether the experiment of repelling those machinations which warred
against all established order, and all sanctioned usage, by a novel, and
unnatural opposition, is attributable to any other cause, than that of a
misjudging principle, must be decided by Him, whose mighty hand
suspended the balance of the battle, and whose eye can, at a glance,
pierce through the labyrinth of human obliquity, however compact,
shaded, or concealed. If the late minister is chargeable with a
prolongation of the war, if he is responsible for having misplaced his
confidence, and if brave men have perished by the fatal delusion, he
will find some, if not ample consolation, in reflecting, that by his
vigilance, and vigour, he has saved his country from the miseries of a
revolutionary frenzy, which has rendered, even our enemies, the objects
of our sympathy, and compassion.
Such is the narrowness of our nature, that we know not how adequately to
appreciate our preservation from an _intercepted_ evil: it is
indistinctly seen, like a distant object. The calamity must _touch_
before its powers and magnitude can be estimated. The flames of the
neighbouring pile, must stop at our very doors, before our gratitude
becomes animated with its highest energies. If Providence were to unfold
to us all the horrours which we have escaped; if all the blood which
would have followed the assassin's dagger were to roll in reeking
streams before us; if the full display of irreligion, flight, massacre,
confiscation, imprisonment and famine, which would have graced a
revolutionary triumph in these realms, were to be unbarred to our view,
how should we recoil from the ghastly spectacle! With what emotions of
admiration and esteem should we bend before the man, whose illumined
mind and dignified resolution protected us from such fell perdition, and
confined the ravages of the "bellowing storm" within its own barrier.
The dazzling and perilous claims of the Rights of Man in the abstract,
have had a long and ample discussion before the sanguinary tribunals of
another country; and the loud decree of an indignant and insulted world
has pronounced their eternal doom. Other contests may arise; but the
powers of a prophet are not necessary to assert, that such rights will
form no part of their provocation.
In France, I was repeatedly asked my opinion of the probable stability
of the peace. The question was always addressed in this rather curious
shape: "Thank God, we have peace! _Will your_ country let us enjoy
it?"--My answer was, "You may be assured of it; for it will not cease to
be prepared for war."
Alas! the restless spirit of ambition seldom long delights in repose.
The peaceful virtues, under whose influence Nations flourish and mankind
rejoice, possess no lasting captivations for the Hero. The draught of
conquest maddens his brain, and excites an insatiable thirst for fresh
atchievements--He
"Looks into the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend"----
May that extraordinary Being in whose hands the fate of millions is
deposited reverse the gloomy picture, and restore to a country long
wasted by revolutions, and warfare, and languishing in the midst of the
monuments of her glory, the benign blessings of enduring tranquillity.
But if this hope prove fruitless, if all the countries of continental
Europe are destined to be compressed into one empire, if their devoted
princes are doomed to adorn the triumphs of the chief of that mighty
republic, which now towers above the surrounding nations of the earth,
like the pyramid of the desert, what have we to fear even though the
ocean which divides us should become the _soldiers_ element?
When an enlightened frenchman is asked what he thinks of his government,
his answer is, "We want repose." For this alone, a stranger to the
recent occurrences of the world would think he had toiled, just as
valetudinarians take exercise for the purpose of securing sleep. Even
those who have profited of eleven years of desolation, are ready to
acknowledge that war is not pastime, and that a familiarity with its
horrours does not lessen them. The soldier, drooping under the weight of
booty, pants for the refreshing shades of his native village, and for
the hour which is to restore him to his alienated family.
I am satisfied, that both in France and England, one desire pervades all
classes of people, that two nations, so brave, and so worthy of
reciprocal esteem, may at last grow wise and virtuous enough to abstain
from those ebullitions of furious hostility which have stained so many
centuries with blood.
Peace is the gem with which Europe has embellished her fair but
palpitating bosom; and may disappointment and dishonour be the lot of
that ambitious and impolitic being who endeavours or who wishes to pluck
it from her!
FINIS.
ERRATA.
_Page_ 2, _l._ 21, _for_ Lewis, _read_ Louis.
13, 3, _for_ English, _read_ own.
Ibid. 4, _for_ import, _read_ impost.
17, 25, _for_ bleu, _read_ bleus.
44, 9, _for_ stories, _read_ stones.
53, 17, _for_ entered now, _read_ reentered.
77, 21, _for_ perpetual, _read_ vast.
120, 1, _for_ profession, _read_ will.
151, 18, _for_ the, _read_ his.
164, 19, _for_ France, _read_ the country.
169, 6, _for_ at, _read_ of.
169, 26, _for_ hardworn, _read_ hardwon.
188, Chap. XVIII, for _Commodities_, _read_ _Commodités_.
197, _l._ 7, _for_ heightened, _read_ high toned.
203, 21, _for_ is, _read_ was.
210, ult. _after_ to, _add_ those of.
221, 14, _for_ remblance, _read_ resemblance.
DIRECTIONS TO THE BINDER FOR PLACING THE PLATES.
Place Torr Abbey facing page 1
Southampton 4
Light-house at Havre 27
Paris Diligence 31
Woman of Caux 35
Rouen 41
Ruins in the Petit Trianon 183
Bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne 207
Museum of French Monuments 223
Malmaison 235
Caen 237
Cherbourg 247
Bryer, Printer, Bridge Street, Black Friars.
Transcriber's note:
List of corrections:
p.46 indispostion = > indisposition
p.86 surprsie = > surprise
p.104 terruor = > terrour
p.119 recal = > recall
p.196 musuem = > museum
p.199 cieling = > ceiling
p.210 scarely = > scarcely