cuirassiers, or heavy dragoons in armour: the cuirass is made of iron,
and does not appear to be very inconvenient to the wearer, although I
am told that the front and back pieces weigh together 24 pounds; but
it would be a great improvement in the martial appearance of the men,
if their large loose woollen breeches were concealed by something like
the Highland kilt.
The same day I saw reviewed two battalions of the newly organized
Garde Royale, formed principally from the old imperial guard, who
_distinguished_ themselves at the battle of Fleurus, as the French
call our Waterloo; but I did not think much of their appearance. Their
martial music was too noisy, the sound of their clarionets being
overwhelmed by that of their drums and cymbals, which are too large
and too often introduced.
In the evening I went to the house of a person styling himself the
Abbé Faria, a professor of animal magnetism, in order to see its
effects upon those persons susceptible of its influence. The Abbé is
a stout muscular man, of a mulatto complexion, and of a countenance
which has more of the knave than the fool in it. The room was filled
with the best of company of all ages, among whom I met Mr. L. and his
friend Count B. Previous to the Abbé's lecture and the exhibition of
his powers, L. and myself were anxious to know if we were susceptible.
He accordingly requested me to shut my eyes, and applied his finger to
my forehead and temples; but he said I was too robust for his purpose,
but that poor L., who I suppose was trembling as much as if Old Nick
himself had put his claws upon his forehead, was susceptible. The
Count, who, _entre nous_, appears to be a sound sterling man, was
also deemed of too robust a habit.
After a short lecture, in which he affected to treat the subject in a
rational philosophical point of view, and to talk very finely of the
influence of the soul upon the body, and so forth, he called from the
company a lad about sixteen years of age, who placed himself in a
large easy chair in the centre of the room, and retiring himself three
or four paces from him, asked if he wished to sleep,--_Oui_ was the
answer; accordingly the lad threw himself back upon the squab-lining
of the chair, and in a few minutes after, fetching two or three deep
sighs, was apparently in a sound sleep. He was asked if he slept
tranquilly--he answered _non_, with the drawling tone of a person
sleeping. The Abbé then advanced to the chair, and moving his hand
with an air of command, said, "_Calmez, calmez_," loud enough to have
awakened all the people in the room, even had they been sleeping as
you and I sleep. After a short time, having answered _Oui_ to the
question _Dormez vous profondément?_ the Abbé asked him how he
felt,--whether his complaint in the chest was alleviated? to which he
replied in the affirmative. He was next asked what must be done for a
person afflicted with rheumatism, to which question he answered with
the apparent judgment of Hippocrates; for you must know that a person
when thus under the influence of somnambulism, as the Abbé chose to
designate it, has the power of seeing the diseases, and of stating
the proper remedies for them to any one of the company whom he may
be desired to fix his attention upon.
The chair was now taken by a young lady, who did not fall asleep so
soon as her predecessor, owing, as the Abbé said, to her too great
agitation of mind. Two or three "_Calmezs_," however, tranquillized
her, and she became a second Galen, answering to many questions upon
the improving state of health of a young man who had been apparently
dying of consumption, but restored by the wonderful operations of this
fair enchantress and the black magician.
A French colonel then sat down, but his scepticism was at first too
great to permit him to be influenced, for you must know that it
requires implicit faith and great tranquillity of mind in order to
be made susceptible. He got up in a profuse state of perspiration,
without having had a glimpse even of this new light. A very stout
gentleman next sat down, but professing himself an unbeliever of
course arose again no wiser than at first. The French colonel now
mustering all his faith, again disposed himself to be acted on, and
consequently was so. He slept, however, uncomfortably, and the Abbé
asked him if he would drink any thing to refresh him. He answered,
Yes. The Abbé then gave him some plain water, which he told him was
weak spirit and water with sugar, and asked him if he did not taste
them. He said he tasted the spirit but not the sugar. He was asked if
he saw his own heart--Yes. Is it in good order?--Yes. How are your
lungs?--Bad. Do you wish to know what remedies are applicable for
them?--Yes. Come to me again to-morrow at two o'clock--I cannot; I
have an appointment at that hour. Come to me on Sunday--Very well;
at two o'clock. The Abbé then awakened him "_secundum artem_," and
asked him if he recollected any part of the conversation with him,
to which, to the evident confusion of the Abbé, he replied that he
was to come to him again on Sunday, but that he recollected nothing
else.
A little girl of five or six years old was afterwards placed in the
chair, but the Abbé could not affect her.
By the by, I have forgotten to state that he professed to have the
power of paralyzing any part of the body merely by forcibly exclaiming
_Paralysez_, as he did when the young lady was the subject of his
skill; and that this magnetic sleep is so far from refreshing, that
the young man who was under its influence not more than ten minutes,
awoke yawning and quite exhausted by it. So much for animal magnetism,
and its somnifying qualities, which, although many of the first class
of Parisians have implicit faith in it, I have no doubt you will
consider with me mere charlatanism.
The next morning, after lounging away two or three hours in the garden
of the Tuileries and on the Boulevards, studying men and manners as
they are exhibited in Paris, I went into one of the Panoramas, where I
saw a view of Naples, represented under a hazy Mediterranean noon. The
effect was good; but although I made due allowance for its having been
painted seven years, it appeared much inferior as to execution and
finishing to those we have seen in London. The comparison made me more
than ever sensible of the merit of our ingenious countryman Barker.
On the 6th I ascended Mont Martre, and discovered the spot from which
the panoramic view of Paris was taken which was exhibited in London
two years ago; but the weather was so unfavourable, that I did not
recognize its similarity to the scene before me so precisely as no
doubt I otherwise should have done.
Returning, I went to see the foundation of a most superb religious
edifice, which Bonaparte was about to complete, as a kind of military
chapel, under the name of the Temple of Glory. It appears at present
very like one of the celebrated ruins of Palmyra, being nothing more
than a collection of the bases and lower parts of the shafts of its
intended columns. But these are so justly proportioned, and so
classically placed, that it is easy to conceive what would be its
magnificent effect if ever finished.
It is also most advantageously situated, being at the end of one of
the streets passing from the Place Vendôme, in the centre of which
stands the celebrated triumphal column, erected to the glory of the
French armies, and formed in great part of the cannon taken by them in
Germany.
This pillar of vain glory is not so high as the Monument of London,
nor so well terminated at the top. Like the ancient Roman columns,
built for similar purposes, it is surrounded by a belt, encircling
the shaft in a spiral direction, on which are represented the
various actions of the campaign, that terminated with the battle of
Austerlitz, and the occupation of Vienna. These bas-reliefs, however,
although no doubt extremely flattering to French vanity, spoil
altogether the architectural beauty of the column, and would certainly
have been seen to more advantage on the interior of the walls of the
Temple of Glory, or some such building.
The Théâtre des Italiens, where Catalani performs, is a building
deserving notice, as a fine piece of architecture; and, like the
Théâtre de l'Odeon, forms one side of a small square, which renders
the approach to it safe and easy; for in this respect the Opera House
and Théâtre Français are as inconveniently situated as our Drury-lane
or Covent-garden. Speaking of the external appearance of the French
theatres, the Théâtre de l'Opera Comique ought not to be passed by
without observing the well-sculptured _caryatides_ which embellish
its front.
The next day, Sunday, the 7th of January, I visited the Conservatoire
des Arts et Métiers. This is an establishment in the old priory of St.
Martin, for the deposition of all patent machines, which are here
exhibited to the public for their improvement and amusement. Specimens
also of the various manufactures of France in cotton, silk, wool, and
leather, are here deposited, with the tools, utensils, and machines
employed in making them.
One long gallery is filled with models of different manufactories,
such as powder-mills, of which you see the graining-room, and
drying-room, with the different implements so arranged as if the
mill were actually at work. There are also brick and lime-kilns,
iron-founderies, sawing-mills, splitting-mills, porcelain
manufactories, and potteries, oil of vitriol works, and every kind
of public manufactory, all made after a certain scale, and with
such apparent precision, that they give perhaps to a spectator a
more complete idea of their several uses than if he were in the
very manufactories which they represent. I was amused by an immense
collection of little windmills and watermills, both under-shot and
over-shot, with their sieves, &c.
They exhibit also a great variety of lamps, oil being usually burnt in
France, and many different kinds of locks, one of which, a door-lock,
had an ingenious piece of mechanism attached to it, for the purpose of
seizing any one by the hand who should attempt to pick it. But, in
general, the show of locks, as well as every article of hardware and
cutlery, was much inferior to the hard and sharp ware of English make.
The old church of the priory is filled with agricultural implements
and fire-engines. The former, as far as I am a judge, are much ruder
than ours; but different kinds of land must certainly require
different kinds of ploughs and harrows, &c. The fire-engines are
numerous, among which I observed one of Bramah's. I saw too a very
clever kind of fire-escape, consisting of a series of ladders, of
different widths, which are placed upright on a small truck running on
four low wheels, and which, when brought to the required situation,
are worked up one above another to any height, by the means of a
windlass. Among a variety of very beautiful time-pieces, one is
remarkable for the complicated structure of its pendulum. This is made
upon the old English principle, of two self-correcting metals, which
you know thus keep it of the same length in all temperatures and
climates; but the different pieces of metal are joined together in
a curious manner, the use of which I do not understand. The ball of
this pendulum is a little chronometer, keeping, they say, exact time
with the large one, which _itself_ preserves in motion. To another
time-piece, made by a German, there is attached on the top a very
pretty little orrery, inclosed in a glass sphere, on which are
engraved, with fluoric acid, the different, constellations, &c. Here
is also the car in which was performed the first aërial voyage ever
undertaken; but it is a clumsy, heavy thing, of the size and shape of
a large slipper-bath.
On Monday, the 8th of January, I left Paris with regret, but with the
hope of again visiting it, and joined my regiment at Creil, a poor
dirty town, near Chantilly, where I was obliged to content myself with
a nasty unfloored apartment in a miserable auberge. During the first
fortnight I scarcely stirred from the house, the surrounding country
being all under water.
On the 28th of January, having received orders to march for the
frontiers, I left Creil, after sojourning there three weeks, during
which nothing occurred to me worthy of notice, but a trip to
Chantilly, the former residence of the Prince de Condé. But little now
remains of that which was undoubtedly the finest chateau in France,
excepting the stables, and their necessary accompaniments, then
occupied by a detachment of our waggon train, being large enough for
the accommodation of 300 horses. They are at some distance from the
high road, from which they look like the chateau itself. A book is
published, with twenty descriptive plates, giving an account of the
chateau and grounds as they formerly existed, a copy of which I
purchased on the spot.
At Amiens, where I had leave to halt for a few days, I by good luck
got myself billeted on the house of a young gentleman with whom I
travelled from Boulogne sur Mer on my first arrival in this country.
I found his father a sensible, well-educated man, but low and
desponding on account of the general distressed state of his
commercial connexions, and his mother an active domestic woman,
although of a rich and superior family. Being received with great
cordiality, I of course found myself very comfortable. With this
family I might have boarded for four Napoleons per month, including
every thing,--about 40_l._ per annum[1].
[1] And I saw also an excellent lodging, fit for any
gentleman's family, at 6_l._ per month.
Amiens is a fine old town, they say of 60,000 inhabitants; but unless
they are closely packed, I should think of not more than 40,000. It
is clean, but dull; and there is only one public building worthy of
notice, the cathedral. This is certainly very fine, but wants a lofty
spire or a handsome tower to make it what it ought to be. It was
built by the English, when the good Henry VI. was King of France,
and in many parts resembles the edifices in England erected during
the same period, especially in its nave, which the French speak
of proverbially, and which I think is the only part of English
fabrication. It is in the form of a cross, as usual, and has two low
square towers at the west end; these have an awkward appearance, and
are badly proportioned to the rest of the building, the one being
lower considerably than the other, but why I do not know, the
necessity of this deviation from architectural uniformity not being
sufficiently evident to pass with me as faultless. The grand entrance
is highly ornamented by an immense number of sculptured busts and
animals, with full-length figures. The interior of the nave is very
chaste and elegant, and the wood-work of the stalls in the choir is
the best finished thing of the kind I ever saw.
There are a few good paintings and statues in the chapels, among which
the statue of the Enfant Pleurant is well worthy of admiration. It is
placed behind the high altar, and was erected to the memory of some
former prior of the cathedral, but it is unfortunately damaged a
little. The stained glass windows are also good and appropriate.
Amiens has been a regularly fortified town; but nothing now remains of
its works except an old defenceless citadel, and its ruined ramparts.
Strangers are however denied access to the citadel, as is generally
the case in the fortified towns of France, although it merely serves
at present for a barrack to the legion of the department. The
ramparts, or boulevards, have been planted, and are a pretty
promenade. Amiens is situated on the Somme, the stream of which,
although small here, is very rapid, and turns several mills in the
city and vicinity. It intersects the town in many parts, and affords
more opportunities of cleanliness than the inhabitants take advantage
of. I went twice to the theatre-once to the parterre for a franc; and
another night took the gentleman on whom I was billeted to the boxes,
paying two francs for each. The company is very good, and the house
convenient and tastily decorated.
Here also is a place like our Exeter 'Change; but the goods there
exposed are very far inferior to ours in every respect. The corn
market is the only other building of note, besides an old hospital,
the Hôtel Dieu.
After a week's residence at Amiens, I came on to St. Pol, and found my
regiment quartered in its neighbourhood, in the most miserable dirty
villages I suppose you ever knew; at one of which, from whence I now
write, I took up my abode, with the requisite resignation to my lot,
content with a good wood fire, a mattress or two, and a sound thatched
roof.
On the 18th of March I set out for Cambray, through Arras and Douay,
the two principal cities in this neighbourhood. Arras contains about
20,000 inhabitants, but is irregularly built, and badly paved. It
possessed formerly a very handsome cathedral, which, I believe, with
all its churches, except one, were demolished by the frenzy of the
revolutionists, during the reign of terror, as it is now and then
called. A new one in its place has been commenced, but has not been
proceeded with for many years. When completed, it will be a very
superb edifice, of Grecian architecture.
The library, which belonged to the clergy of the late cathedral, is
still in good preservation, and in a very handsome building which
formed part of the accompanying Abbey of St. Wast. Most of the books
are theological; but there are also some good collections of prints
and manuscripts. At one end there is a paltry museum of subjects in
natural history, "an alligator stuffed," a comb which formerly formed
part of the toilette of King Dagobert, one of the first race of French
monarchs, and with which I arranged my dishevelled locks, an old
queen's shoe, and a few other paltry antiquities not worthy notice.
The theatre at Arras is dirty, and the company bad; but there are
occasionally very good concerts, at one of which I was much diverted
with the attempt of an amateur to amuse the audience by his singing,
which undoubtedly he did, but not in the manner his egregious vanity
led him to suppose.
A Mademoiselle Noyen was the principal singer, and certainly of no
mean talents. She was living at the same hotel where I chanced to be,
and I had frequent opportunities of listening to her as she was
practising her lesson for the evening.
Arras is one of the towns on which Marshal Vauban exercised his
uncommon talents as an engineer. It is one of the largest fortresses
in France, but, with the exception of the citadel, might easily be
taken by the present mode of warfare. I was at least an hour walking
round its ramparts, which are still kept in pretty good condition. In
consequence of being formerly thought impregnable, one of the gates
long bore this inscription:
"Quand les Français prendront Arras,
Les souris mangeront les chats."
It was, however, taken by Louis XIII.; and this distich was then
modified by removing the _p_ from the word _prendront_, thus
making it _rendront_. Arras formerly belonged to the Spaniards,
who built a very large square, surrounded by piazzas and shops, or
_magazins_. There is also a smaller square, at one end of which
is the Hôtel de Ville, a very fine old structure, with an immensely
high tower, surmounted with a large sculptured crown of excellent
workmanship. The barracks are spoken of as the best in France, but
they are apparently much less convenient than those of the fortified
towns in England.
On the 20th I set out in the diligence for Douai, at six o'clock in
the morning; and although its distance from Arras is not more than six
leagues and a half, I was five hours on the road. Douai is a large
city, of 15,000 souls, but capable of containing many more, being in a
great measure deserted. It is strongly fortified, but the works are
rapidly hastening to decay. Here is a large handsome square, the
streets also are well paved, and have the rare convenience of a raised
foot-pavement in many of them. But the weather was so rainy, that I
proceeded as quickly as possible to Cambray in a returning cabriolet,
which luckily I found at the hotel. The Danish contingent of 5000 men,
commanded by the Prince of Hesse, was in the neighbourhood. They
appeared very well liked by the inhabitants on whom they were
billeted, who styled them _braves gens_. Like the English, they
wear a red uniform, and are very well appointed; but their knowledge
of the modern art of war, like Michael Cassio's, can be "but from
bookish theory."
I reached Cambray about five o'clock, but found it so full of English,
it being the head-quarters of the army, that I went to two inns, and
could not find house-room. I then applied for a billet on some
inhabitant from the British commandant, but he was a little sulky at
being intruded upon after office-hours, so I determined upon trying
for admission at some other inn, and found a good table d'hôte and
clean bed-room at the Petit Canard, with tolerable company, and
reasonable charges[2].
[2] Some of our officers here board with the people on whom
they are quartered for the trifling sum of two francs per
diem, 1_s._ 8_d._ English, dining at their own hour, and in
very handsome style; but then they drink beer instead of
wine, which is reckoned very dear in this part, two or three
francs per bottle.
Cambray is not a handsome town: the large _Place_ is irregularly
built; and there is not one public building of any beauty. The
cathedral has been destroyed, nothing of it having escaped but an
old long building, which is now a kind of picture-gallery, where
there are a few small good scriptural pieces, the coffin containing
the ashes of the immortal Fenelon, and a monument to the memory of
some former bishop. There is a plain marble bust of Fenelon at the
foot of his coffin, which is placed upon a stand at one end of the
room. The coffin is quite plain, of oak, bound round here and there
with red tape, and sealed with the seal of the bishoprick. The frail
old tenement, in which the remains of this beautiful writer are
deposited, I believe is inclosed in this outer one, which I kissed
with a literary veneration.
The abbey church of St. Sepulchre is worthy of notice on account
of some very excellent paintings, executed to represent marble
bas-reliefs attached to the walls; the deception is the most complete
I ever witnessed, one more especially in the sacristy.
The barracks were occupied by the guards, who astonish the natives by
the prodigal use of their money; but they were, nevertheless, not in
much estimation by the gentry of Cambray and its neighbourhood, being,
I suppose, too high to submit to the suppleness of French manners,
which require a _bon jour_ and a _doff_ of the hat at every
rencontre. Cambray is one of the strongest places in our possession. I
walked round the citadel, and examined that part of the wall where the
British escaladed, under the command of Sir William Douglass, upon
the last march of the allies to Paris. The storming party _bivouaced_
the night previous to the assault in a burying-ground, just without
the Valenciennes gate, to which many a poor fellow returned next night
to _bivouac_ eternally! I went in the evening to an instrumental
concert at the Hôtel de Ville, where the apparent gentility and beauty
of the audience vied with the precision and execution of the
orchestra. Cambray is well supplied with fish and vegetables, at a
very low rate.
Next day I returned by another road on foot to Arras, in company with
a fellow-pedestrian, whom I overtook on my road, not displeased with
my little excursion.
On the 27th of April I proceeded to Bethune from Arras on foot,
preferring this mode of travelling to that by the diligence, in which
you are almost completely prevented from seeing any part of the
country through which you are travelling; the glass window, which just
serves for the admission of a little light, not being above eight or
ten inches square. The day was fine, the road good, and the prospect
from it beautiful, looking over an immense extent of a fine corn
country, thickly studded with towns and villages, and their
surrounding woods, bounded by lovely blue hills, which I contemplated
with my telescope in perfect rapture.
"Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around!"
The colouring was just like that of Teniers; and here I first felt the
real value of his productions.