as not to receive the offer either of milk, or some sort of wine; and
every one seemed to take a refusal as if they had solicited, and had not
obtained, an act of kindness. If the French are not the most hospitable
people in the world, they have at least the art of appearing so. I speak
here only of the peasantry, and from first impressions.
The rent of one of these cottages, of two floors and two rooms on each,
is thirty-five livres. They have generally a small garden, and about one
hundred yards of common land between the road and the house, on which
grows the indispensable walnut or chestnut tree. The windows are glazed,
but the glass is usually taken out in summer. The walls are generally
sea-stone, but are clothed with grape vines, or other shrubs, which,
curling around the casements, render them shady and picturesque. The
bread is made of wheat meal, but in some cottages consisted of thin
cakes without leven, and made of buck-wheat. Their common beverage is a
weak wine, sweet and pleasant to the taste. In some houses it very
nearly resembled the good metheglin, very common in the northern
counties of England. Eggs, bacon, poultry, and vegetables, seemed in
great plenty, and, as I understood, composed the dinners of the
peasantry twice a week at least. I was surprised at this evident
abundance in a class in which I should not have expected it. Something
of it, I fear, must be imputed to the extraordinary profits of the
smuggling which is carried on along the coast.
I was pleased to see, that even the horrible Revolution had not banished
all religion from Calais. I understood that the church was well
attended, and that high mass was as much honoured as hitherto. Every one
spoke of the Revolution with execration, and of the Emperor with
satisfaction. Bonaparte has certainly gained the hearts of the French
people by administering to their national vanity.
Returning home from my walk, I was witness to a singular exhibition in
the streets. A crowd had collected around a narrow elevated stage,
which, at a distant view, led me to expect the appearance, of my friend
Punch. I was not altogether deceived: it was a kind of Bartholomew
drama, in which the parts were performed by puppets. It differed only
from what I had seen in England by the wit of the speakers, and a kind
of design, connexion, and uniformity in the fable. The name of it, as
announced by the manager, was, The Convention of Kings against France
and Bonaparte.
The puppets, who each spoke in their turn, were, the King of England,
the King of Naples, the Emperor of Austria, the Pope, and the Grand
Signor. The dialogue was indescribably ridiculous. The piece opened with
a council, in which the King of England entreated all his brother
sovereigns to declare war against France and the French Emperor, and
proceeded to assign some ludicrous reasons as applicable to each. "My
contribution to the grand alliance," concludes his Majesty, "shall be in
money; both because I have more Louis to spare, and because the best
advantage of a rich nation is, that it can purchase others to light its
battles!" The Grand Signor approves the proposal, and throws down his
cimeter. "I will give my cimeter," says he; "but being a prophet as well
as a sovereign, and having such a family of wives, I deem it unseemly to
use it myself. Let England take it, and give it to any one who will use
it manfully." The Pope, in his turn, gives his blessing. "If the war
should succeed, you will have to thank my benediction for the victory;
if it should fail, it will be from the efficacy of the blessing that a
man of you will be saved alive." The Emperor then asks what is the
amount of England's contribution; and his British Majesty throws him a
purse. His Imperial Majesty, after feeling the weight, takes up the
cimeter of the Grand Signor, and retires. The drama then proceeds to the
representation of the different battles of Bonaparte, in all of which it
gave him the victory, &c.
After a light dinner, in which with some difficulty I procured fish, and
with still more had it dressed in the English mode, I mounted my horse,
and proceeded on my journey in the road to Boulogne. I had now my first
trial of my Norman horse; he fully answered my expectations, and almost
my wishes. He had a leisurely lounging walk, which seemed well suited to
an observant traveller. It is well known of Erasmus, that he wrote the
best of his works, and made a whole course of the Classics, on
horseback; and I have no doubt but that I could have both read and
written on the back of my Norman. To make up, however, for this
tardiness, he was a good-humoured, patient, and sure-footed beast; but
would stretch out his neck now and then to get a passing bite of the
wheat which grew by the road side. I wished to get on to Boulogne to
sleep, and therefore tried all his paces; but found his trotting
scarcely tolerable by human feeling.
The road from Calais, for the first twelve miles, is open and hilly. On
each side of the main way is a smaller road, which is the summer, as the
other is the winter one. The day being very fine, and not too warm, I
enjoyed myself much. I passed many fields in which the country people
were making hay: they seemed very merry. The fellow who loaded the cart
had a cocked hat, and by his erectness I should have thought to have
been a soldier, but that every one who passed me had nearly the same
air, and the same hat. Some of the hay-makers called to me, but in such
barbarous _patois_, that I could make nothing of them. One company of
them, saluting me from a distance, deputed a girl to make known their
wishes. Seeing her to be young, and expecting her to be handsome, I
checked my horse; but a nearer view correcting my error, and exhibiting
her only a coarse masculine wench, I pushed forwards, without waiting
her embassy. The peasant women of France work so hard, as to lose every
appearance of youth in the face, whilst they retain it in the person;
and it is therefore no uncommon thing to see the person of a Venus, and
the face of an old monkey. I passed by a set of these labourers sitting
under a tree, and taking that repast which, in the North of England, is
called "fours," from being usually taken by harvest labourers at that
time of the day. The party consisted of about a dozen women and girls,
and but one man. I was invited to drink some of their wine, and being by
the road side, could not refuse. My horse was led under the tree: I was
compelled to dismount, and to share their repast, such as it was. Some
money which I offered was refused. I made my choice amongst one of my
entertainers, and could do no less than salute her. This produced great
noise and merriment, and gave free reins to French levity and coquetry;
in a word, I was obliged to salute them all. My favourite and first
choice gave me her hand on my departure: she might have sat for Prior's
Nut-Brown Maid.
The main purpose of my journey being rather to see the manners of the
people, than the brick and mortar of the towns, I had formed a
resolution to seek the necessary refreshment as seldom as possible at
inns, and as often as possible in the houses of the humbler farmers, and
the better kind of peasantry. About fifteen miles from Calais my horse
and myself were looking out for something of this kind, and one shortly
appeared about three hundred yards on the left side of the road. It was
a cottage in the midst of a garden, and the whole surrounded by an
hedge, which looked delightfully green and refreshing. The garden was
all in flower and bloom. The walls of the cottage were robed in the same
livery of Nature. I had seen such cottages in Kent and in Devonshire,
but in no other part of the world. The inhabitants were simple people,
small farmers, having about ten or fifteen acres of land. Some grass was
immediately cut for my horse, and the coffee which I produced from my
pocket was speedily set before me, with cakes, wine, some meat, and
cheese, the French peasantry having no idea of what we call tea.
Throwing the windows up, so as to enjoy the scenery and freshness of the
garden; sitting upon one chair, and resting a leg upon the other;
alternately pouring out my coffee, and reading a pocket-edition of
Thomson's Seasons, I enjoyed one of those moments which give a zest to
life; I felt happy, and in peace and in love with all around me.
Proceeding upon my journey, two miles on the Calais side of Boulogne I
fell in with an overturned chaise, which the postillion was trying to
raise. The vehicle was a _chaise de poste_, the ordinary travelling
carriage of the country, and a thing in a civilized country wretched
beyond conception. It was drawn by three horses, one in the shafts, and
one on each side. The postillion had ridden on the one on the driving
side; he was a little punch fellow, and in a pair of boots like
fire-buckets. The travellers consisted of an old French lady and
gentleman; Madame in a high crimped cap, and stiff long whalebone stays.
Monsieur informed me very courteously of the cause of the accident,
whilst Madame alternately curtsied to me and menaced and scolded the
postillion. The French postillions, indeed, are the most intolerable set
of beings. They never hesitate to get off their horses, suffer them to
go forwards, and follow them very leisurely behind. I saw several
instances in which they had suffered the traces to twist round the
horses' legs, so that on descending an hill, their escape with life must
be a miracle.
I shall briefly observe, now I am upon this subject, that posting is
nearly as dear in France as in England. A post in France is six miles,
and one shilling and threepence is charged for each horse, and
sevenpence for the driver. The price, therefore, for two horses would be
three shillings and a penny; but whatever number of persons there may
be, a horse is charged for each. The postillions, moreover, expect at
least double of what the book of regulations allows them, as matter of
right.
I reached Boulogne about sunset, and was much pleased with its vicinity.
On each side of the road, and at different distances, from two hundred
yards to a mile, were groves of trees, in which were situated some
ancient chateaux. Many of them were indeed in ruin from the effects of
the Revolution. Upon entering the town, I inquired the way to the Hotel
d'Angleterre, which is kept by an Englishman of the name of Parker,
Bonaparte having specially exempted him from the edicts respecting
aliens. I had a good supper, but an indifferent bed, and the close
situation rendered the heat of the night still more oppressive. Mr.
Parker himself was absent, and had left the management with a French
young woman, who would not suffer me to write uninterrupted, and seemed
to take much offence that I did not invite her to take her seat at the
supper table. I believe I was the only male traveller in the inn; and
flattery, and even substantial gallantry, is so necessary and so natural
to French women, that they look to it as their due, and conceive
themselves injured when it is withholden.
CHAP. V.
_Boulogne--Dress of the Inhabitants--The Pier--Theatre--Caution
in the Exchange of Money--Beautiful Landscape, and
Conversation With a French Veteran--Character of Mr. Parker's
Hotel--Departure, and romantic Road--Fete Champetre
in a Village on a hill at Montreuil--Ruined Church and Convent._
I had heard so bad a report of Boulogne, as to be agreeably surprised
when I found it so little deserving it. I spent the greater part of a
day in it with much pleasure, and but that I wished to get to Paris,
should have continued longer.
Boulogne is very agreeably situated, and the views from the high grounds
on each side are delightful. The landscape from the ramparts is not to
be exceeded, but is not seen to advantage except when there is high
water in the river. There is an evident mixture of strangers and natives
amongst the inhabitants. There are many resident English, who have been
nationalized by express edict, or the construction of the law. I heard
it casually mentioned, that these were not the most respectable class of
inhabitants, though many of them are rich, and all of them are active.
The English and French women, whom I met with in the streets, were each
dressed in their peculiar fashion; the English women as they dress in
the country towns of England; the French without hats, with close caps,
and cloaks down to the feet. This fashion I found to be peculiar to
Boulogne and its promenade. The town is, upon the whole, clean, lively,
brisk, and flourishing; the houses are in good repair, and many others
were building.
I walked down to the pier, and my conclusion was, that the English
Ministry were mad when they attempted any thing against Boulogne. The
harbour appeared to me impregnable. I must confess, however, that the
French appeared to me equally mad, in expecting any thing from their
flotilla. Three English frigates would sink the whole force at Boulogne
in the open sea. The French seem to know this; yet, to amuse the
populace, and to play upon the fears of the English Ministry, the farce
is kept up, and daily reports are made by the Commandant of the state of
the flotilla. There is a delightful walk on the beach, which is a flat
strand of firm sand, as far as the tide reaches. In the summer evenings
when the tide serves, this is the favourite promenade this is likewise
the parade, as the soldiers are occasionally here exercised.
There is a tolerable theatre, but the dramatic corps are not
stationary. They were not in the town whilst I was there, so that I can
speak of their merits only by report. One of the actresses was highly
spoken of, and had indeed reached the reward of her eminence; having
been called to the Parisian stage. Bonaparte is notoriously, perhaps
politically, attached to the drama, and is no sooner informed of any
good performer on a provincial stage, than he issues his command for his
appearance and engagement at Paris.
The principal church at Boulogne is a good and respectable structure,
and I learned with much satisfaction and some surprise, that on the
Sabbath at least it was crowded. The people of Boulogne execrate the
Revolution, and avert from all mention and memory of it, and not without
reason, as their environs have been in some degree spoiled by its
excesses. Several miles on the road from Boulogne, those sad monuments
of the popular phrensy, ruined chateaux, and churches converted into
stables or granaries, force the memory back upon those melancholy times,
when the property and religion of a nation became the but of bandits and
atheists. May the world itself perish, before such an era shall return
or become general!
I had received from an American house in London some bills on a
mercantile house at Boulogne; a very convenient method, and which I
would therefore recommend to other travellers, as they hereby save very
considerably, such bills being usually given at some advantage in
favour of those who purchase them by coin. Bills on Boulogne, Bourdeaux,
and Havre, are always to be had of the American brokers, either in
London or in New York. One advantage in this exchange is, that bills may
be had of any date, in which case you may suit the occasions, and put
the discount into your own pocket. My bill on Boulogne was for 3000
francs, about 130_l._ English. I received it in Louis d'ors and ecus. In
the progress of my journey, several of the Louis were refused, as
deficient in weight, and I was advised in future never to take a Louis
without seeing that it was weight. The French coin is indeed in a very
bad state, which here, as elsewhere, is attributed to the Jews.
On the Paris side of Boulogne is a landscape and walk of most exquisite
beauty. The river, after some smaller meanders, takes a wide reach
through a beautiful vale, and shortly after flows into the sea through
two hills, which open as it were to receive it. I walked along the banks
to have a better view, and got into converse with a soldier, who had
been in the battle of Marengo. He gave me a very lively account of the
conduct of that extraordinary man, the French Emperor, in this grand
event of his life. His expression was, that he looked over the battle as
if looking upon a chess-board: that he made it a rule never to engage
personally, till he saw the whole plan of the battle in execution; that
he would then ride alternately to each division, and encourage them by
fighting awhile with them: that he visited all the sick and wounded
soldiers the day after the battle, inquired into the nature of their
wound, where and how it was received; and if there were any
circumstances of peculiar merit or peculiar distress, noted it down, and
invariably acted upon this memorandum: that he punished adultery in a
soldier's wife, if they were both in the camp, by the death of the
woman; if the offending was not in the field, and therefore not within
the reach of a court-martial, the soldier had a divorce on simple proof
of the offence before any mayor or magistrate. I demanded of this
veteran, pointing to the flotilla, when the Emperor intended to invade
England? He perceived the smile which accompanied this question, and
instantaneously, with a fierce look of suspicion and resolution,
demanded of me my passport. Though the abruptness of his conduct
startled me, I could not but regard him with some admiration. A long,
thin, spare figure of 55, was so sensible of the honour of his country,
as to take fire even at a jest at it as at a personal insult. It is to
this spirit that France owes half her victories.
As soon as the heat of the day had declined, having satisfied my
curiosity as to Boulogne, I called for my bill and my horse, intending
to get on to Montreuil, where I had fixed upon sleeping. My bill was
extravagant to a degree; a circumstance I imputed to the want of some
due attentions to Madame. These kind of people have always the revenge
in their own hands. As I did not see Mr. Parker, I know not whether to
recommend his inn or not. He has some excellent Burgundy, but the
charges are high, the attendance not good, and the situation in summer
close and stifling. Madame, however, is a very pretty woman, and seems a
very good-humoured one, if her expectations are answered. She is a true
French woman, however, and expects gallantry even from a weary
traveller.
I found the road improve much as I advanced; the country became more
enclosed, and bore a strong resemblance to the most cultivated parts of
England. The cherry trees standing in the midst of the corn had a very
pretty effect; the fields had the appearance of gardens, and some of the
gardens had the wildness of the field. The season was evidently more
advanced than in England; there were more fruits and flowers, and the
bloom was more bossy and luxuriant. Several smaller roads led from the
main road, and the spires of the village churches, as seen in the side
landscape, rising above the tops of the trees, invited the fancy to
combine some rural images, and weave itself at least an imaginary
Arcadia. The persons I met or overtook upon the road were not altogether
in unison with what I must call the romance of the scene. Every carter
drove his vehicle in a cocked-hat, and the women had all wooden shoes.
Boys and girls of twelve years old were in rags, which very ill covered
them. Nor was there any of the briskness visible on a high road in
England. A single cart, and a waggon, were all the vehicles that I saw
between Boulogne and Abbeville. In England, in the same space, I should
have seen a dozen, or score.
Not being pressed for time, the beauty of a scene at some little
distance from the road-side tempted me to enter into a bye-lane, and
take a nearer view of it. A village church, embosomed in a chesnut wood,
just rose above the trees on the top of a hill; the setting sun was on
its casements, and the foliage of the wood was burnished by the golden
reflection. The distant hum of the village green was just audible; but
not so the French horn, which echoed in full melody through the groves.
Having rode about half a mile through a narrow sequestered lane, which
strongly reminded me of the half-green and half-trodden bye-roads in
Warwickshire, I came to the bottom of the hill, on the brow and summit
of which the village and church were situated. I now saw whence the
sound of the horn proceeded. On the left of the road was an ancient
chateau situated in a park, or very extensive meadow, and ornamented as
well by some venerable trees, as by a circular fence of flowering
shrubs, guarded on the outside by a paling on a raised mound. The park
or meadow having been newly mown, had an air at once ornamented and
natural. A party of ladies were collected under a patch of trees
situated in the middle of the lawn. I stopt at the gate to look at
them, thinking myself unperceived: but in the same moment the gate was
opened to me by a gentleman and two ladies, who were walking the round.
An explanation was now necessary, and was accordingly given. The
gentleman informed me upon his part, that the chateau belonged to Mons.
St. Quentin, a Member of the French Senate, and a Judge of the District;
that he had a party of friends with him upon the occasion of his lady's
birth-day, and that they were about to begin dancing; that Mons. St.
Quentin would highly congratulate himself on my accidental arrival. One
of the ladies, having previously apologized and left us, had seemingly
explained to Mons. St. Quentin the main circumstance belonging to me,
for he now appeared, and repeated the invitation in his own person. The
ladies added their kind importunities. I dismounted, gave my horse to a
servant in waiting, and joined this happy and elegant party, for such it
really was.
I had now, for the first time, an opportunity of forming an opinion of
French beauty, the assemblage of ladies being very numerous, and all of
them most elegantly dressed. Travelling, and the imitative arts, have
given a most surprising uniformity to all the fashions of dress and
ornament; and, whatever may be said to the contrary, there is a very
slight difference between the scenes of a French and English polite
assembly. If any thing, however, be distinguishable, it is more in
degree than in substance. The French fashions, as I saw them here,
differed in no other point from what I had seen in London, but in
degree. The ladies were certainly more exposed about the necks, and
their hair was dressed with more fancy; but the form was in almost every
thing the same. The most elegant novelty was a hat, which doubled up
like a fan, so that the ladies carried it in their hands. There were
more coloured than white muslins; a variety which had a pretty effect
amongst the trees and flowers. The same observation applies to the
gentlemen. Their dresses were made as in England; but the pattern of the
cloth, or some appendage to it, was different. One gentleman, habited in
a grass-coloured silk coat, had very much the appearance of Beau
Mordecai in the farce: the ladies, however, seemed to admire him, and in
some conversation with him I found him, in despite of his coat, a very
well-informed man. There were likewise three or four fancy dresses; a
Dian, a wood-nymph, and a sweet girl playing upon a lute, habited
according to a picture of Calypso by David. On the whole, there was
certainly more fancy, more taste, and more elegance, than in an English
party of the same description; though there were not so many handsome
women as would have been the proportion of such an assembly in England.
A table was spread handsomely and substantially under a very large and
lofty marquee. The outside was very prettily painted for the
occasion--Venus commemorating her birth from the ocean. The French
manage these things infinitely better than any other nation in the
world. It was necessary, however, for the justice of the compliment,
that the Venus should be a likeness of Madame St. Quentin, who was
neither very young nor very handsome. The painter, however, got out of
the scrape very well.