remain in perfect beauty and preservation, and much augment,
particularly in a distant view, the beauty of the town. They are
composed of free-stone, are flanked at regular distances with square
towers, and surmounted with battlements. The public walks are round the
foot of this wall. The alleys fronting the river, and which are bordered
by noble elms, are the summer promenade--here all the fashion of the
city assemble in the evening, and walk, and sport, and romp on the
banks. In the winter, the public walk is on the opposite side. The
fields likewise have their share, and the environs being naturally
beautiful, the spectacle on a summer's evening is gay and delightful in
the extreme.
The interior of the city is ill built: the streets are narrow and
irregular, and the pavement is most troublesomely rough. There is not a
lamp, except at the houses of the better kind of people; the funds of
the town are still good, but they are all expended on the roads, public
walks, and dinners. The necessity of a constant attention to paving and
lighting, never enters into the heads of a French town-administration;
they seem to think that the whole business is done when the town is
once paved. From the nature of the climate, however, the streets are
necessarily clean. A hot drying sun, and frequent driving winds, remove
or consume all the ordinary rubbish; or if anything be left, the winter
torrent of the Rhone, rising above its bed, sweeps it all before it.
Avignon, therefore, is naturally a clean city. The police, moreover, is
very commendably attentive, to the price of provisions, and to the
cleanliness of the markets.
I had the curiosity to enter some of the houses, and found them to
correspond with what I have before described as constituting the
character of house-architecture in the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries. They had one large room, and all the others small; a great
waste of timber and work in their construction; the walls being built as
thick as if intended for fortifications, and the beams being large
timber trees. Our ancestors thought they could never build too
substantially.
The palace, the former residence of the Papal Legates, is well worthy of
being visited: it was founded by Benedict the Twelfth but is better
known as the subject of the elegant invective of Petrarch. The arsenal
still remains, containing 4000 stand of arms and as these instruments of
war are ranged according to their respective aeras, the spectacle is
interesting, and to antiquaries may be instructive. The papal chair,
from respect to its antiquity, still remains, but the pannels of the
state rooms, which were composed of polished cedar, have disappeared.
The most curious parts of the palace, however, are the subterraneous
passages, the entrance to which is usually through some part of the
pillars; perfectly imperceptible till pointed out by the guide.
According to the tradition of the town, these passages have been the
scene of many a deed of darkness. A statue of Hercules was found on the
scite of the palace, and buried by Pope Urban, that the figure of a
Heathen Deity might not disgrace a papal town.
The cathedral still retains many of its ancient decorations, and amongst
these, the monument of Pope John, who died in the year 1384. In the year
1759, the body was taken up to be removed, when it was found entire, and
with some of the vestments retaining their original colour. The first
wrapper round the body was a robe of purple silk, which was then
enveloped in black velvet embroidered in gold and pearls; the hands had
white satin gloves, and were crossed over the breast. The above
description is exhibited in writing to all travellers. The monument of
Benedict the Twelfth is likewise here. This Pope was as remarkable for
his integrity of life and simplicity of manners, as for his humility.
There are many illustrious men who lie buried beneath the cathedral, but
as I could give little account of them but their names, I shall pass
them over.
We next visited the convent of St. Claire, where Petrarch first beheld
his mistress. From respect to the poet, or to his mistress, this convent
has survived the fury of the times, and is still entire. The description
of the first meeting of Laura and Petrarch is perhaps the best, because
the most simple and unlaboured part of his works.--"It was on one of the
lovely mornings of the spring of the year, the morning of April 6th,
1327, that being at matins in the convent of St. Claire, I first beheld
my Laura. Her robe was green embroidered with violets. Her features, her
air, her deportment, announced something which did not belong to mortal.
Her figure was graceful beyond the imagination of a poet--her eyes
beamed with tenderness, and her eye-brows were black as ebony. Her
golden ringlets, interwoven by the fingers of Love, played upon
shoulders whiter than snow. Her neck, in its harmony and proportion, was
a model for painters; and her complexion breathed that life and soul
which no painters can give When she opened her mouth, you saw the beauty
of pearls, and the sweetness of the morning rose. The mildness of her
look, the modesty of her gait, the soft harmony of her voice, must be
seen and felt to be conceived. Gaiety and gentleness breathed around
her, and these so pure and happily attempered, as to render love a
virtue, and admiration a kind of divine tribute."
Our curiosity naturally passed from the convent of St. Claire to the
church of the Cordeliers, where Laura is reputed to have reposed in
peace. Her tomb is in a small chapel, dark, damp, and even noisome: it
is indicated only by a flat unadorned stone. The inscription, which is
in Gothic letters, is rendered illegible by time. The congenial nature
of Francis the First of France caused the tomb to be opened, and a
leaden box was found, containing some bones, and a copy of verses, the
subject of which was the attachment of the two lovers. Petrarch, with
all his conceits, which are sometimes as cold as the snows on Mount
Ventoux, well merits his reputation. His verses are polished, and his
thoughts almost always elegant and poetical. He must not be judged, on
the point of a correct taste, with those who followed him. He was the
first, as it were, in the field; he is to be considered as an original
poet in a dark age; or, according to his own beautiful comparison, as a
nightingale singing through the thick foliage of the beech tree.
Petrarch was truly an original; I know no one to whom he can be
compared. He has no resemblance to any English, French, or Italian. He
has more ease, more elegance, and a more poetic vein than Prior; he
resembles Cowley in his conceits, and Waller in his grace and sweetness.
He possesses, moreover, one quality in common with the Classic poets of
Italy--that he never has, and perhaps never will be, sufficiently
translated. No translation can give the elegant neatness of his
language. He is simple, tender, and sweet as his own Laura: time has
stampt his reputation, and posterity will receive him to her last
limit.
We next visited the convent of the Celestins, which was founded by
Charles the Sixth of France, and in its architecture and dimensions is
worthy of a royal founder. The piety of the early ages has done more to
ornament the kingdoms of Europe than either public or private
magnificence. If we would become properly sensible how much we owe to
the early ages, let us divest a kingdom of what has been built by our
ancestors; let us pull down the churches, the convents, and the temples,
and what shall we leave?--The present town-administration of Avignon
extends a very commendable attention to its several public buildings,
the consequence of which is, that the town flourishes, and is much
visited both by travellers and distant residents.
Avignon, however, is chiefly celebrated for its hospitals, the liberal
foundation and endowment of which have originated, perhaps in the
misfortunes of the city, and in the sympathy which is usually felt for
evils which we ourselves have experienced. Avignon has suffered as much
as Florence itself by the plague. In the year 1334 the city was almost
depopulated by this dreadful pestilence. It was in the nature of a dry
leprosy; the skin peeled off in white scales, and the body wasted till
the disease reached the vitals. In fourteen years afterwards the city
was again attacked, and the beautiful Laura became its victim. It is
stated to have swept off upwards of one hundred thousand inhabitants.
The reigning pope contrived to escape the contagion by shutting himself
up in his palace, carefully excluding the air, and heating the rooms.
Another period of fourteen years elapsed, and the plague again made its
appearance, and nearly twenty thousand people, including a dozen
cardinals and an hundred bishops, fell its victims. Of late years, there
has fortunately been no appearance of this horrible disease. It was at
the time imputed to an extraordinary drought, attended by an uncommon
heat and stillness of the air, which, being without motion, and confined
as it were in a narrow channel, became putrid and pestilential. The vent
de bize is perhaps a greater blessing to this country than it has been
imagined.
Avignon, with the above exceptions, would be a delightful place of
residence to a foreigner, and particularly if his circumstances
permitted him to live in an extended society. It constitutes, as it
were, a little kingdom in itself, and the inhabitants have clearly and
distinctly a character, and peculiar manners belonging to themselves.
We visited the public walks of the town every evening during our stay,
and as the weather was delightful, and there was a division of soldiers
with their bands of music on the spot, they were always thronged, and
always gay and animated to a degree.
The Avignonese ladies appeared to me very beautiful, and whether it was
fancy or reality, I thought I could trace in many of them the features
which Petrarch has assigned to Laura. I no doubt whatever, but that the
recorded loves of these accomplished persons have a very strong
influence on the character of the town. If I should have an Avignonese
for a mistress, I should most certainly expect to find in her some of
the characteristic traits of Laura. It must not, indeed, be concealed,
that these ladies have not the reputation of being virtuous in the
extreme: to say the truth, they are considered as dissolute, and as
having little restraint even in their married conduct. I cannot say this
of them from any thing which I observed myself--to me they appeared gay,
tender and interesting.
In speaking of ladies, it would be unpardonable to omit something of
their dress. The ladies of Avignon follow the Paris fashions, but have
too much natural elegance to adopt them in extremes. On the evening
parade, they were habited in silk robes, which in their form resembled
collegiate gowns, and being of the gayest colours, gave the public walk
a resemblance to a flower-garden. Lace caps were the only covering of
their heads. The necks were not so exposed as at Paris, but were open as
is usual in. England and America in full dress. The gown was likewise
silk, embroidered in silver, gold, or worked flowers. The shoes of
velvet, with silver or gold clasps. The terms were naked almost up to
the shoulders, indeed almost indecently so. Being strangers, we were of
course objects of curiosity; when our eyes, however, met those of the
gazers, they invariably saluted us with a friendly smile. Mademoiselle
St. Sillery was much distressed that she had no dress so tasty as those
of the ladies. We could not at last persuade her to accompany us. This
young lady, with all her charms, and she possessed as many as ever fell
to the lot of woman, had certainly her share of vanity--an assertion,
however, which I should not have the presumption to make, if she had not
herself most frequently acknowledged it.
Every thing connected with household economy is extremely cheap at
Avignon; a circumstance which must be imputed as much to the moderation
of the inhabitants as to the plenty of the country. An Avignonese family
seems to have no idea of a dinner in common with an Englishman or an
American. A couple of over-roasted fowls will be meat enough for a party
of a dozen. The most common dish is, I believe, a fowl stewed down into
soup, with rice, highly seasoned. It is certainly very savoury, only
that according to French cookery, too much is made of the fowl.
The Avignonese, whilst under the papal jurisdiction, bore a general
reputation for the utmost profligacy both of principles and conduct.
This character has now passed away, and, with the exception of what is
termed gallantry, the Avignonese seem a gay, moral, and harmless people.
The poetry of Petrarch is perhaps too much read, and it is impossible
to read him without inspiring a warmth of feeling and imagination, which
is not very friendly to a correct virtue. Plato would certainly have
banished him from his republic, and the Avignonese would do well to keep
him out of their schools and houses. They will catch his ardour, who
want his moral sense and religious principles.
We took our leave of Avignon, much delighted with the town and its
inhabitants, and, as I have before said, I saw many figures which
recalled most forcibly to my imagination the Laura of Petrarch. It may
be perhaps said, that every one has an image of his own fancy, which he
assigns to Laura, and that from the general description of the poet, it
is impossible to collect any thing of the personal lineaments of his
mistress. This is very true; but it is equally so, that the ladies of
Avignon appear to have certain characteristic features, and that many of
them possess that soft, sweet, and supreme beauty, which inspired
Petrarch to sing in strains, which still sound melodious in the ears of
his posterity.
Avignon is the capital of the department of Vaucluse, the department
being so named rather from the celebrity of the poet, than from its
local relations.
CHAP. XX.
_Departure from Avignon--Olive and Mulberry Fields--Orgon--St.
Canat--French Divorces--Inn at St.
Canat--Air--Situation--Cathedral--Society--Provisions--Price
of Land--Marseilles--Conclusion._
THE letters which I had expected reached me at Avignon, and the result
of their perusal was the information, that my presence was necessary in
America. I have not, however, contracted so much of the impertinence of
a Frenchman by my tour in France, as to trouble the reader of my Notes
with my domestic affairs. Suffice it therefore to say, that some family
occurrences, of which I obtained some previous information, required my
immediate departure from France, and that in consequence I resolved to
embark at Marseilles.
With this resolution, therefore, I left Avignon for Marseilles, a
distance of about seventy miles. We divided it therefore into two days;
arranging so as to reach St. Canat on the first night, and Marseilles on
the second.
The road to Orgon, where we dined, presented us with a great variety of
scenery, though the surface was rather level. All the country was
covered with olive and mulberry trees, and innumerable fruit-trees grew
up wild in the fields, as likewise flowering shrubs in the hedges. The
climate of this part of France is so delightful, that every thing here
grows spontaneously which is raised only by the most laborious exertions
in northern countries. The cottages which we passed on the road were
picturesque to a degree: they were usually thatched, and vines or
barberry trees, or honey-suckles, entirely enveloped the walls or
casements. The peasantry, moreover, though without stockings, appeared
happy; the women were singing, and the men, in the intervals of their
work, playing with true French frivolity. We saw many women working in
the fields: the French women are invariably industrious and active. It
may be supposed that this labour and exposure to a southern sun is not
very favourable to beauty. Accordingly, we saw few good-looking damsels,
but many with good shapes and good eyes. How is it, that the French, so
generally gallant, can suffer their women to take the fork and hoe, and
work so laboriously in the fields?
Orgon had nothing which merits even mention; I believe, however, it was
well known to the ancients, and is mentioned in some of the Latin
itineraries. A convent, very picturesquely situated, is now converted
into a manufacturing establishment. The town is surrounded by
chalk-hills and quarries, from which is dug a free-stone, of the most
delicate white. The town, on the whole, had an air of rusticity and
recluseness which might have delighted a romantic imagination.
Between Orgon and St. Canat we travelled in a road occasionally bordered
by almond trees. The country on each side was rather barren, but being
an intermixture of rock and plain and being moreover new to us, it did
not appear tedious or uninteresting. We passed several houses of the
better sort, some in ruins, others evidently inhabited by a class of
people for whom they were not intended. This is one of the effects of
the Revolution. Where the proprietor emigrated, or was assassinated, the
nearest tenant moved into the mansion-house, and if he distinguished
himself by a violent and patriotic jacobinism, his possession, for a
mere trifle to the national fund, was converted into a right. In this
manner innumerable low ruffians have obtained the estates and houses of
their lords; but, faithful to their old habits and early origin, they
abuse only what they possess; live in the stables, and convert the
castle into a barn, a granary, a brew-house, a manufactory, or sometimes
dilapidate it brick by brick, as their convenience may require.
The inn at St. Canat will be long remembered by me, for the unusual
circumstance of a most hearty welcome from a good-humoured host, a
widower, and his two daughters. The eldest was the most beautiful
brunette I have ever seen. She was as coquettish as if educated in
Paris, and as easy, as familiar, as inclined to gallantry, as this
description of ladies, in France at least, universally are. She had been
married during the aera of jacobinism, and had divorced her husband,
_because they could not agree_. "He was so triste, and withal very
jealous, which was the more absurd, because he was old."--This young
woman was tall, elegant, and with the most fascinating features; her age
might be about four and twenty; her teeth were the whitest in the world,
and her smile was a paradise of sweets. She had the fault, however, of
all the French filles--a most invincible loquacity, and would not move
from the chamber till repeatedly admonished to call me early in the
morning.
I was awoke in the morning by a sweet-toned lark, which rising in the
ethereal vault of Heaven, made his watch-tower, as the poet calls it,
ring with his matin song. I know nothing more pleasing to a traveller
than to pass a night at one of these provincial inns, provided he gets a
good bed and clean blankets. The moon shines through his casement with a
soft and clear splendor unparalleled in humid climates; and in the
morning he is awoke by the singing of birds, whilst his senses are
hailed by the perfume of flowers and by the freshness of a pure aether.
Having resumed our journey, we reached Aix at an early hour on the
following day, and passed an hour very pleasantly in walking over the
town and neighbourhood.
Aix, the capital of Provence, is very pleasantly situated in a valley,
surrounded by hills, which give it an air of recluseness, and romantic
retirement, without being so close as to prevent the due circulation of
air. It is surrounded by a wall, but which, from long neglect,
originating perhaps in its inutility, has become dilapidated, and
interests only as an ancient ruin. In the former ages, when France was
subdivided into dutchies and minor kingdoms, and when her neighbours
were more powerful, such walls were a necessary defence to the town: a
change in manners and government has now rendered them useless, and in
few centuries they will wholly disappear all over Europe. The interior
of the town very well corresponds with the importance of its first
aspect. It is well paved, the houses are all fronted with white stone,
and the air being clear, it always looks clean and sprightly. Many of
them, moreover, have balconies, and some of them are upon a scale, both
outside and inside, which is not excelled by Bath in England. Aix is
almost the only town next to Tours, in which an English gentleman could
fix a comfortable residence. The society is good, and to a stranger of
genteel appearance, perfectly accessible either with or without
introduction.
The cathedral of Aix is an immense edifice; the architecture is the
oldest Gothic, and has all the strength, the substance, and I was going
to add, all the tastelessness which characterizes that Order. The front
is ornamented with figures of saints, prophets, and angels, grouped
together in a manner the most absurd, and executed as if by the hands of
a working bricklayer. The grand portal, however is very striking. On the
side of the great altar is the magnificent tomb of the Counts of
Provence; the figures here, however, are as ridiculous as the style
itself is grand. The Gothic architects had better ideas of proportion
than of delicacy or beauty; they seldom err on the former point, whilst
their execution in the latter is contemptible in the extreme. Our
Saviour, and the Virgin Mary, have always enough to do on every tomb in
France; they are invariably introduced together, sometimes in a manner
and with circumstances, which really shock any one of common piety.
Several pictures, and some ancient jewellery, which have survived the
Revolution, are still shewn to all strangers: amongst them is a golden
rose, which Pope Innocent the Fourth gave to one of the Counts of
Provence six hundred years since.
There are two or three other churches and convents, but which have
suffered so much by the execrable Revolution, as to have little left
that is worthy of remark. The piety of the inhabitants of Aix, however,
saved the greater part of the pictures and jewellery; and with still
more piety, have returned them to the churches.
The promenade, or public walk, equals, if not excells, any thing of the
kind in Europe--it consists of three alleys, shaded by four rows of most
noble elms, in the middle of a wide street, the houses on each side
being on the most magnificent scale, and inhabited by the first people
of the city and province. There were several parties walking there even
at the early hour in the morning when we saw it, and I understood upon
enquiry, that in the evening it is exceedingly thronged both with
walkers and carriages.
I did not omit to make my usual enquiries, as to the prices of land,
provisions, and the state of society, for a foreigner who should select
it as a place of residence. The following was the result: Land within a
few miles of Aix, is very reasonable; in a large purchase it will not
exceed five or six pounds (English money) per acre. In rating French and
English purchases, there is one considerable point of difference:
English estates are usually mentioned as being worth so many years
purchase, in which the purchase is rated according to the rent, and the
rent is considered as being the annual value of the land. In France,
where there is scarcely such a thing as an annual pecuniary rent equal
to the annual value of the land, the price must be estimated by the
acre. In large purchases, therefore, as I have said before, land is very
cheap: in small purchases it is very dear. The difference indeed is
surprising, but must be imputed to the strong repugnance of the small
proprietors to part with their paternal lands.
In the town there are some very handsome houses: a palace almost, with a
garden of some acres, an orchard, and land enough for four horses and
three cows, may be hired for about thirty pounds per annum.
Provisions of all kinds are in the greatest possible plenty: fish is to
be had in great abundance, and the best quality; meat is likewise very
reasonable, and tolerably good; bread is about a penny English by the
pound; and vegetables, as in other provincial towns, so cheap as
scarcely to be worth selling.