six o'clock in the evening, and where we agreed to remain for the night,
that our horses might have a rest, which they seemed to require. Our inn
here was a farm-house. We had for our supper a couple of roasted fowls,
and a dish which I had never seen before, some new wheat boiled with
pepper and salt. It was so savoury, and I have reason to believe so
wholesome, that I have frequently taken it since. I can say from
experience, that it is a powerful sudorific, and very efficacious in a
cold. I must not forget to mention that I slept on some straw, in a kind
of hay-oft, and to the best of my memory never slept more delightfully.
When I opened my razor case on the following morning, I found a paper,
upon unrolling of which I found a ringlet of hair, with the word Felice
on the envelope. Once for all, the French women can think of nothing but
gallantry, and live for nothing but love. Sweet girl, I will keep thy
ringlet, and when weary of the world, will remember thee, and
acknowledge that life may still have a charm.
We remained at Planchoury till the noon of the following day, when we
resumed our journey, with the intention of dining at Tours. From
Planchoury throughout the whole way to Tours, the scenery exceeded all
the powers of description. The Loire rolled its lovely stream through
groves, meads, and flowers. On both sides was a border of meadow clad in
the richest green, varied sometimes by hills which hung over the river,
the sides of these hills robed in all the rich livery of the ripening
grape, and the towers and battlements of castles just surmounting the
woods in which they were embosomed. How delightful must it be to wander
in a summer's evening along these lovely banks, far from the din of the
distant world, and where the deep tranquillity is only interrupted by
the song of the nightingale, the whistle of the swain returning from
labour, or the carol of the milkmaid as she is filling her pail. Surely
man was formed most peculiarly to relish the charms of Nature. Would
Heaven grant me my fondest wish, it would be to wander with * * * * on
the banks of the Loire. How sweetly, and even justly, did Felice
express the true image of love, when she wished me the golden
dream,--that I was wandering with my love in the corn-fields of Saumur.
We passed through Langeais, a small town, celebrated for its melons,
with which it supplies Paris, and all France. This town was known to the
Romans, by whom it was called Alingavia. We stopped to examine its
castle, which is celebrated in the history of France, as the scene of
the marriage of Charles the Eighth and Anne of Bretagne. The castle, as
may be expected, is now in ruins; but enough remains of it, to prove its
former magnificence. It frowns with much sublimity over the subject
land. I never remember to have passed through a more lovely country,
more varied scenery, abounding in vines, corn, meadow, wood, and water,
than the whole of the road between Saumur and Tours. Well might Queen
Mary of Scotland exclaim, when leaving the vines and flowers of France
for her Scotch kingdom, "Dear, delightful land, must I indeed leave
thee! Gay, lovely France, shall I never see thee more!"
We reached Tours somewhat later than we expected. According to our
previous arrangement, we were to stay there only the whole of the
following day, but we again broke our resolution, and extended our time
from one day to three. I envy not that man's heart who can travel France
by his watch.
CHAP. XIII.
_Tours--Situation and general Appearance of it--Origin of the
Name of Huguenots--Cathedral Church of St. Martin--The
Quay--Markets--Public Walk--Classes of Inhabitants--Environs--Expences
of Living--Departure from Tours--Country
between Tours and Amboise._
WE remained at Tours three days, and though nearly the whole of this
time was occupied in an unceasing walk over the town and environs, I was
still unwearied, and my subject still unexhausted.
Nothing can be more charming than the situation of this town. Imagine a
plain between two rivers, the Loire and the Cher, and this plain
subdivided into compartments of every variety of cultivated land,
corn-fields studded with fruit-trees, and a range of hills in the
distance covered with vineyards to their top, whilst every eminence has
its villa, or abbey, or ruined tower. The cities in France, at least
those on the Loire, have all somewhat of a rural character; this may be
imputed to their comparative want of that trade and manufactures, which
in England, and even in America, convert every thing in the vicinity of
a town into store-yards. In France, trade has more room than she can
well fill, and therefore has no occasion to trespass beyond her limits.
There are few towns but have larger quays than their actual commerce
requires, and still fewer but what have more manufactories than they
have capitals to keep them in work.
The general appearance of Tours, when first entered by a traveller, is
brisk, gay, and clean; a great part of it having been burnt down during
the reign of the unfortunate Louis, nearly the whole of the main street
was laid out and rebuilt at the expence of that Monarch. What before was
close and narrow, was then widened and rendered pervious to a direct
current of air. The houses are built of a white stone, so as to give
this part of the town a perfect resemblance to Bath. Some of them,
moreover, are spacious and elegant, and all of them neat, and with every
external appearance of comfort. The tradesmen have every appearance of
being in more substantial circumstances than is usual with the French
provincial dealers; their houses, therefore, are neat and in good
repair, the windows are not patched with paper, the wood-work is fresh
painted, and the pavement kept clean.
The name of the Huguenots, a party which so fatally divided France
during three reigns, originated in one of the gates of this city, which
is called the Hugon gate, from Hugo, an ancient count of Tours. In the
popular superstition and nursery tales of the country, this Hugo is
converted into a being somewhat between a fairy and a fiend, and even
the illustrious De Thou has not disdained to make mention of this
circumstance: "_Caesaro duni_," says this celebrated historian, "_Hugo
Rex celebratur, qui noctu Pomaeria civitatis obequitare, et obvios
homines pulsare et rapere dicitur_." Be this as it may, the party of the
Huguenots, according to Davila, having originated in this city, they
were thence called Huguenots, as a term of derision and reproach.
We visited the cathedral, which, with more decency than in England, is
open at all hours of the day, and is not exhibited for money. There
might be some excuse for this, where any of the subjects of exhibition
are portable, and such as might be carried away. But who would feel any
disposition to pilfer the wig of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, or the hat of
General Monk, in Westminster Abbey? Why, therefore, is not this
disgraceful practice thrown aside? Why is a nation converted into a
puppet-show? The English Minister would doubtless be ashamed to bring
the returns of these exhibitions amongst the ways and means of the year;
yet it is effectually the same to suffer these taxes to be taken as the
prices for seeing the public buildings of the nation. There is nothing
of this kind in America, or in any other kingdom in the world. The
cathedral of Tours has nothing to distinguish it except its antiquity,
two beautiful towers, and a library of most valuable manuscripts.
Amongst these there is a copy of the Pentateuch, written in the
alphabet of the country, upwards of eleven hundred years ago. There is
likewise a copy of the four Evangelists, written in Saxon letters, in
the beginning of the fifth century, about fifty years after Constantine
declared Christianity to be the religion of the Roman Empire. Next to
the cathedral, St. Martin's church is usually shewn to strangers. It is
the largest church in France, but very dark, damp, and built in a very
bad taste. The tomb of St. Martin, whom tradition reports to be buried
here, is behind the great Altar; it is of black marble, and though very
simple, is very striking. The ancient kings of France used to come to
this tomb previous to any of their important expeditions, and after
having made the usual prayers of intercession used to take away the
mantle of the Saint as the banner under which they were to fight: this
mantle still remains.
The quay is broad, brisk, and clean. Even the French merchants seem
never to lose sight of the union of pleasure and profit: their quays are
terraces, and serve them as well for promenades as for business. One
reason, however, for the superiority of the French over the English
quays, may be, that the French Government consider these quays as public
and national works, and therefore puts them, I believe, under the same
system of management as the roads. What Government does, and does with
attention, will be done well, because Government consults for the
general good; whilst individual proprietors are only actuated by their
own immediate interest. If the wharfs and quays on the Thames had been
laid out by the English Government, would they have so totally defaced
and degraded the banks of that noble river?
There is an excellent market for provisions; I had not the opportunity
of seeing it on the market day, but was informed in answer to my
inquiries, that every article was plentiful, and very cheap. Wood, which
is so dear in every other part of France, is here very cheap, the
country being overspread with forests, and the river furnishing a ready
transportation. Houses are good and cheap: the rent of a house
consisting of a ground floor, two stories above, and attics, the windows
in front of each floor being from six to eight, with coach-house,
stables, garden and orchards, is about 20_l._ English money, the taxes
from 1_l._ 10_s._ to 2_l._, and parish rates about 10_s._ annually. I
should not forget to mention, that the gardens are large, sometimes two
or three acres, encompassed with high walls, and well planted with
fruit-trees, and particularly wall-fruit. In the back part of these
gardens are usually gates opening into the fields, which I have before
mentioned have walks around and across them, and are the common
promenade of all who choose to use them. In the season of harvest or
vintage, nothing can be more charming than these walks; the French
gaiety and simplicity, not to say puerility, is then seen in all its
perfection; it is then a common sport amongst the ladies and the
gallants of the town to chase each other amongst the standing corn, and
as they endeavour to keep to the furrows, which are too narrow for their
feet, the chace is generally terminated by the fall of the runners, the
one over the other. The interest of the farmers cannot but suffer by
these frolics; but as they participate in the enjoyment, for every one
may salute a lady whom he finds in the corn, there is no complaint, and
indeed care is taken to do as little mischief as possible. In the summer
evenings these fields are almost the sole promenade; and the Mall, or
public walk of the town is entirely deserted. On Sundays, however, the
Mall has its turn, and all the beauty of the province, and the fashion
of the town, may be seen walking up and down this beautiful avenue,
being nearly a mile and half in length, and planted on both sides with
ranges of elms apparently almost as ancient as the town. The magistrates
are so careful of this ornament of their town, that they suffer no one
to walk there after rain, and penalties are imposed on every species of
nuisance or abuse.
The society of Tours is infinitely beyond that of any other provincial
town in France. I have already mentioned, that there are some excellent
houses within the city, and they are in great numbers in the immediate
vicinity. Tours, in this respect, resembles Canterbury or Salisbury, in
England. It is the favourite retreat of such advocates as have made
fortunes in their profession. The noblesse of the province have their
balls and assemblies almost weekly during the summer months; and even
in the winter, Tours is by many preferred to Paris. It would be an
unpardonable omission, whilst I am upon this subject, not to notice the
uncommon beauty of the younger women; a beauty, the effect of which is
much raised by their vivacity, and unwearied gaiety. Love and gallantry
seem the main business of the town, and whilst we were there, we were
amused with two or three stories of infidelities on all sides. There is
a very pretty custom at their balls: if a lady accepts a partner, she
presents him, if in summer, with a flower; if in winter, with a ribbon
of what she has adopted as her colour. Every unmarried lady has a colour
which she has adopted as her own, and which she always wears on some
part of her dress.
Tours was formerly celebrated for its silk manufactory, and enough of it
still remains to invite and to gratify the curiosity of a traveller. The
attention of the French Government is now unintermittingly occupied in
efforts to raise the manufactures of the kingdom, but whilst the war
makes such large demands, trade must necessarily be cramped. The
manufactories, however, still continue to work, and produce some
beautiful flowered damasks, and brilliant stuffs. The weavers for the
most part work at their own houses, and have so much by the piece, the
silk being furnished them by their employers. The prices vary with the
pattern and quality of the work; two livres per day is the average of
what can be earned by the weavers. The women weave as well as the men,
and their earnings may be estimated at about one half. Upon the whole,
however, these manufactures are in a very drooping condition, and are
scarcely visible to a foreign visitant, unless the immediate object of
his inquiry. There is likewise a ribbon manufactory, but the ribbons are
very inferior to those of England. About 1000 persons may be employed in
these two manufactories.
We visited the castle of Plessis les Tours, which is not more than a
mile from the city. This chateau was built by that execrable tyrant,
Louis the Eleventh, was his constant residence during his life-time, and
the scene of his horrible death. This monarch is one of those whom all
concur in mentioning with execration; Richard of England has found
apologists in this ingenious age, but no one has come forward to defend
the memory of the French Tiberius. The castle is built of brick, and is
very pleasantly situated, being surrounded by woods. In the chapel is a
portrait of Louis the Eleventh; he is painted as in the act of saluting
the Virgin Mary, and our Saviour as an infant. His features are harsh,
and something of the tyrant is legible even through the adulation of the
painter. The castle, though built about 1450, is still perfect in all
its parts, and has some large apartments.
I believe I have already mentioned, that when I had occasion to stop in
any town, which I thought had a _prima facie_ appearance of being a
place of pleasant residence or settlement for a foreigner, the main
object of my inquiries went to ascertain all those points which were
necessary to determine this question. Of all the cities which I had yet
seen, Tours appeared to me the best adapted for such a residence. The
country is delightful and healthy, the society good, and every necessary
article of life plentiful and cheap. Beef, veal, and mutton, are to be
had in great plenty, and the two latter excellent. Poultry is equally
plentiful and cheap. Fuel, to those who have horses, amounts almost to
nothing; house-rent likewise very reasonable. Land in purchase about
15_l._ per acre, one with another--wood, heath, and arable. In the
immediate neighbourhood of the town the meadow land is dear. I believe I
have now mentioned every thing. Young persons would find Tours a
delightful residence, as there is a never-ceasing course of balls and
parties. A carriage may be kept cheaply; in a word, I would venture
positively to say, that for 250_l._ English money annually, a family
might live at Tours in plenty and elegance; but let them not have
English or American servants.
Having seen enough of Tours, we resumed our journey after our breakfast
on the third day, proposing to go no farther on that day than Amboise,
a distance short of twenty miles. Every traveller must have observed,
that the exhilaration of the animal spirits is never greater than after
an interval of fatigue succeeded by sufficient repose. A spirited horse,
for example, will perform his second stage, after a sufficient bait,
with more animation than his first: it is the same with travellers, or
at least I must assert it of myself. My satisfaction is always greater
in the progress, than in the commencement of a journey. There is a
dilatoriness, a _vis inertiae_, which hangs on me on my first departure,
and which does not pass away, till worked off by the fermentation of the
blood and spirits.
The whole party, and myself amongst the number, left Tours in this
enviable state of spirits; the sun shone brightly, but a refreshing
breeze, and intervals of the road well shaded, softened an heat, which
might otherwise have been oppressive. Mr. Younge and myself rode on each
side of the carriage, and travelling slowly, as our proposed day's
journey was short, enjoyed at once the scenes of nature, and the
conversation of these lovely women.
"The next village we shall come to," said Mademoiselle St. Sillery,
"will be a singularity. Unless we were with you, you might perhaps pass
through it without seeing it. You might pass through the midst of three
or four hundred inhabitants without seeing either house, man, woman, or
child."
"You are speaking of Mont Louis," said Mr. Younge.
"Yes," replied Mademoiselle, "but I will not anticipate Monsieur's
gratification by more fully informing him."
Mr. Younge, in the course of this conversation, gave me some important
information with respect to the climate of this part of France. I have
entered it in my note book as nearly as possible in his own words, and
therefore shall give it as such.
"If an American, an English, or a Swedish gentleman, wished to settle in
France," said he, "I would recommend above all provinces either
Tourraine or the Limosin. What the country is as to natural beauty, and
as to fertility of soil, you may see through every league; it is that
mixture of the wild and of the cultivated, of the field, of the wood, of
the vineyard, and of the garden, which is not to be equalled in Europe,
and which has rendered this part of France the favourite of painters and
poets from time immemorial. Here the Troubadours have built their fairy
castles, have settled their magicians, and bound their ladies in
enchanted gardens; and even the popular superstition of the country
seems to have taken its tone and colour from the images around.
Tourraine, and all the country on the banks of the Loire, has a kind of
popular mythology of its own; it is the land of fairies and elfins, and
there is scarcely a glen, a grove, or a shady recess, but what has its
tale belonging to it. What one of the French poets has said of the
Seine, may be said with more truth of the Loire--all its women are
queens, and all its young men poets. If Mademoiselle St. Sillery were
speaking," continued he, smiling at this young lady, "she would say,
that love reigned triumphant amidst the charms of Nature.
"The climate exactly corresponds to this singular beauty of the country.
In many years there is no such thing as snow, and frosts are not
frequent, and never severe. The rainy weather comes usually at once, and
is confined to the spring. There are no fogs and vapours as is usual in
the northern kingdom: the spring is a continuance of such weather as is
seen in England about the middle of May. The harvest begins about the
latter end of June, but is sometimes so late as the middle of July; it
continues a month. The vent de bize is very rare in these provinces. The
great heats are from the middle of July to the middle of August During
this time, the climate of Touraine certainly exceeds any thing that is
common in England. The heaths are covered with thyme, lavender,
rosemary, and the juniper-tree: nothing can be more delightful than the
scent of them, when the wind blows over them. The hedges are every where
interspersed with flowers; there are blossoms of some kind or other
throughout the year. I must not, however, disguise from you, that there
are some drawbacks from this excellence: the countries south of the
Loire are subject to violent storms of rain and hail, and the latter
particularly is occasionally so violent, as to beat down and destroy all
the corn and vintage on which it may fall. These hail-storms, however,
at least in this excessive degree, are not very frequent; they sometimes
do not occur once in five years. Some years ago, they were more frequent
than they are at present: they used to come on at that time with a
violence which swept every thing before them, even destroying the
cattle, and it is said that even men have been killed by these
hail-stones. Such storms, however, are now considered as natural
phenomena.
"The plenty of these provinces, I speak of Touraine and Anjou, is such
as might be expected from their climate, and the fertility of the soil.
I am persuaded, that a family or an individual might live at one-fourth
of the expence which it would cost them either in England or in America.
Bread is cheaper by two-thirds, and meat of all kinds is about
one-fourth of the London market. Land, both in rent and purchase, is
likewise infinitely cheaper than in England, and if managed with any
skill, would replace its purchase-money in seven years. The French
farmers, for want of capital, leave half their land totally
uncultivated, and the other half is most scandalously neglected. An
English farmer would instantaneously double or quadruple the produce of
the province. The government, moreover, admits foreigners of any country
as denizens, under the condition that they shall apply themselves to
agriculture or manufactures. I am not, however, certain that
agriculture is included in this permission, but I am inclined to believe
that it is comprehended in it. Of one thing I am sure, that the
government would not refuse its protection, and if required, its special
licence, to any foreign agriculturist, who should be desirous of
purchasing and settling."
In this and similar conversation we reached Mont Louis, and it exactly
answered the description which the ladles had given of it. We were in
the midst of the village and its inhabitants before we saw it. Imagine a
number of sandy hills on each side of the road, and the sides of them
scooped out into houses or rather caves, and you have a sufficient idea
of this French village, containing some hundreds of inhabitants. The
hills being hollowed out on the further extremity from the road, a
traveller might certainly pass through it, without perceiving any thing
of it. This style is even carried where there is not the same natural
advantage of a hill to hollow out. The village extends into the plain,
which is likewise dug out into subterraneous houses, and which are only
visible by the smoke issuing from the chimnies. I could not understand
the convenience or necessity for these kind of habitations. The ground,
indeed, being chalky, is at once dry and easily dug, but on the other
hand, the country so abounds in wood and clay, that a very little
industry, and a very little expence, might have provided these living
human beings with something better than a grave. Mademoiselle St.
Sillery, however, made a remark which I must not pass over. "You must
not," said this lady, "necessarily infer the misery of our peasantry,
because you see them in such unfit habitations. When you compare the
French poor, with the poor in your own country, you must take all
circumstances with you. When you see the French peasantry so ill lodged,
and so scantily clad, you must bring into your view at the same time the
difference of the climate. Here, the same sun which now shines upon us,
shines on us the whole year round; our rains are short, and all confined
to their season; we know nothing of the northern damps: a piece of
muslin or fine linen hung in one of those caves for six months, would be
dry and unsullied when removed. Those caves, moreover, bad as they are,
belong to their inhabitants; the property is their own. Can your
peasantry say the same? Believe me, Monsieur, there are many very happy,
aye and very lovely faces, under those turf dwellings."
We reached Amboise in good time, and as we intended leaving it on the
following morning, Mr. Younge and myself walked over the town, in the
interval between dinner and tea. The ladies reserved themselves for the
promenade, which in the provincial towns usually begins at seven, and
continues till nine.