Toulouse—Its Churches—Protestant Service—Libraries—Reception of the
Duke d’Angoulême—The French Generals—Popularity of Wellington.
Head-quarters, Toulouse,
April 27, 1814.
MY DEAR M——,
Though I have nothing now to amuse you with, but the result of my
morning walks and inquiries in this town, I shall proceed as usual,
more with a wish to preserve my own crude observations, than hoping to
interest you much by the perusal.
My last was finished on Saturday. On Sunday, about half-past eleven, I
attended the service at the Protestant chapel, established under the
sanction and patronage of Bonaparte, as a sort of church-wardenish
gold-lettered record informed me. The service began with a prayer
by the clerk; he then gave out a psalm, more noisy than musical,
and without the accompaniment of the organ. I was astonished that
such a small congregation could make so much noise and discord. One
greasy-headed, methodistical-looking man, near me, continued in an
unceasing roar, bearing much more resemblance to a well-known noise
with which our mules so frequently indulge us, than any known harmony.
A short prayer, and a long chapter from the New Testament, with the
Commentary, as printed in the book, was then delivered from the pulpit
or reading-desk (for there was but one) by a clergyman, who then
entered. Another psalm ensued. The organ then played to introduce a
young preacher, who took the reader’s place, and gave us a prayer and
the Ten Commandments, and another psalm, partly to the organ; but
before half a stave was finished, the organist found that his notes and
the vocal ones were so different, that he ceased playing, and though
he made two or three attempts at a single note afterwards, he found it
would not do, and gave it up.
The young preacher then read a text from the Bible, and gave us a
very good extempore discourse about half-an-hour long. The subject
was the vanity of this world, and the danger of temptation and evil
communication. The language and delivery were clear and distinct; there
was no rant, but much propriety of manner. A psalm followed, and the
organ was not so much distanced; then the Lord’s Prayer and Belief, and
a prayer for all descriptions of persons and denominations, like that
of our own Church praying for dignitaries, &c. And then another psalm,
at last, in tolerable harmony, but very noisy. A blessing concluded the
whole.
At first there were only about forty-five persons; some half-dozen old
gentlemen were in the seats near the altar. These had backs. About
twenty-five women were in the right-hand seats; and about fifteen
men in the left. The side-seats were chairs placed in rows, and all
fastened to each other. In the course of the service, the numbers
increased to about sixty or seventy. The congregation appeared to be
nearly all of the middling class of tradesmen; only about three of our
poor men took their allotted seats, quite at the back. As no one ever
knelt down, there was no occasion for either room or cushions for that
purpose. The men sat with their hats occasionally on and off, and legs
crossed, at their ease, in the style of the House of Commons; but were
attentive to the sermon. The three poor men all fell asleep, snoring
so loud that a sort of beadle was obliged to awaken them. I was not
much surprised on the whole, comparing this scene with that in the
Roman Catholic churches, that the proselytes amongst the highest and
lowest classes were not not numerous. This service suits neither. It
is most adapted to an independent tradesman, who thinks a little for
himself, and can see the errors of the Catholics, and likes the economy
of the chapel. It might be accident, but I saw scarcely any white
cockades,—only one or two of the elder, and I suppose richer, members
of the community wear them in their hats.
On Monday I looked into nearly all the churches, present and
_ci-devant_, of Toulouse. The cathedral of St. Etienne I have already
mentioned. The next in size and consequence is St. Saturnin, or more
commonly called St. Surnin. This is a curious building, in the dark
heavy Saxon style (reminding one of the early attempts at Grecian
revival, and the introduction of the Gothic), all circular except the
angular main pillars of the centre of the cross, which were heavy
octagons; the roof circular, and upper windows double circles. Except
the pillars, nearly the whole is made of the flat tile or brick,
which is curious. It was built in the present form about the year
1160 to 1190. There are monuments of the Earls of Toulouse, &c., of
founders, and in a dark vaulted chapel under the grand altar are relics
innumerable—of the thorns in the crown placed on the head of Christ;
the heads of Barnabas, of Simon, and of Jude; parts of their bodies
also; parts of Peter; besides bishops, &c.; the body and figure of
Thomas Aquinas; and an English saint, a king, whose name I could not
make out. We heard much of the riches with which all these relics were
formerly surrounded. It is said that the revolutionists carried off
four hundredweight of gold, besides silver. All the most valuable part,
however, as the good Catholics are bound to think, were fortunately
spared, and still remain in excellent preservation, and tolerably fine
with gilding.
The general effect of the building is gloomy and superstitious, and a
strange unpleasant smell, which some say proceeds from large vaults
underneath, which are filled with bodies which do not corrupt, makes
one glad to get out of the building as soon as curiosity is satisfied.
They do not bury their dead in the church now, and the vaults I
mentioned are walled up. In the remaining churches now in use there
is little worthy of notice, but there are two very large _ci-devant_
convent churches. That of the Jacobins is worthy of notice; one long
building only, like King’s College Chapel (not a cross), and with one
lofty row of circular pillars all down the centre. This forms as it
were two equal main aisles, and no side aisles. On the sides are rows
of chapels and a large cloister. Almost the whole is in brick, except
the centre pillars. It is now regularly fitted up as cavalry barrack
stables; and they are excellent, easily containing in the whole, I
should think, about seven hundred horses. There is an octagon building
adjoining, with a slender pillar, fitted up the same. Near this is
another large, long, similar building, formerly a chapel, but without
the centre pillars, and the scale of course somewhat smaller. This
is the forage store for the cavalry barrack. We have them now both
in use, as the French had. I must now go in my best to meet the Duke
d’Angoulême.
_Friday, the 26th._—About two o’clock on Wednesday the most interesting
scene commenced since that of the first day of our entrance, and a
more splendid one still. Lord Wellington, surrounded by about three
hundred horsemen, composed of general officers, aides-de-camp, and
staff officers of all descriptions, and of the four nations, Spanish,
English, French and Portuguese, went out to meet the Duke d’Angoulême,
all in their best uniforms, on their best chargers, and covered with
white cockades. The only French general of the opposing army who came
in time for this was Clausel, and he was for some time side by side
with Lord Wellington. When we had gone about six miles, and arrived at
a sort of triumphal arch on a hill, the Duke appeared, escorted by a
guard of our heavy dragoons and a double French guard of honour from
Bordeaux and Toulouse. We drew up on each side, after the interview
with Lord Wellington, to let them pass, and then all joined in the
procession to the town.
The sides of the road were crowded with carriages and people, and the
enthusiasm of the lower classes, and of the women in particular, was
excessive. The Duke and Lord Wellington, after being joined by more
guards of honour and more suite, as we approached the town, entered the
street over the grand bridge, amidst the shouts and acclamations of a
multitude crowding every window. The scene reminded me of the London
streets at Lord Nelson’s funeral. From the _tête de pont_, which still
in part exists, over the bridge, up to the cathedral through all the
principal streets, was a double line of English troops, between which
the procession passed. Several of the regiments had got their clothing,
and they looked admirably, especially the Scotch 91st.
A sort of moveable _garde urbaine de l’infanterie_ on each side kept
also with us all the way. White flags, exhibiting French ingenuity
to the utmost, were hanging from every window. Sheets, table-cloths,
towels, &c., covered with green paper fleurs-de-lys formed excellent
standards, and paper flags were innumerable. The women, and some of the
old men, were quite mad with joy, and screamed, _Vive le Roi et vivent
les Anglois!_ till they were stopped by absolute exhaustion, or some by
tears of joy. Every house was hung with laurel mixed with the white,
and the lower story covered entirely with old tapestry, old carpets, or
sheets, and paper fleurs-de-lys. In the morning this made the streets
look something like Brokers’-alley certainly, but the effect, when
mixed with the rest of the scene, was not bad.
After passing under another triumphal arch of table-cloths, laurel,
fleurs-de-lys, &c., we reached the cathedral, and a _Te Deum_
succeeded. This was much like the last, only rather more in order, and
the public bodies were more numerous and in their costume. The ten
Judges and the President, in their red robes, like our aldermen, with
small black-and-gold caps. The Judges de Premier Instance, in black
Master-of-Arts gowns, with sky-blue sashes; the Avocats in black gowns
alone; the professors of sciences and arts in their crimson-coloured
Master-of-Arts gowns, and those of belles-lettres in orange; the
Archbishop and clergy in full costume. The music was not very striking,
but many of the old people cried with joy.
About six o’clock the Duke dined with Lord Wellington, and went to
the play in the evening, where the acclamations were renewed with
fresh vigour; the women in the streets caught hold of his coat to kiss
it. Yesterday the Duke had a _grande messe_, and then a full-dress
drawing-room—this in the morning. In the evening the great rooms of the
Capitolium were opened again for music and dancing. The Duke came in
there too soon, when scarcely five hundred people were arrived, but in
another hour the crowd was immense. The dresses of the women were very
splendid, and the variety of orders and uniforms made the scene very
gay. General Villette was there, as well as Clausel, and a number of
French officers. The Duke was just the same as at St. Jean de Luz, and
remembered all his old acquaintance there, myself among the rest.
He not only gave me a gracious nod during the first procession,
but surprised me by coming round behind the chairs of the ladies,
where I was standing, in the music-room, and gave me his hand, and
reminded me of King Joseph’s saddle-cloth, which I had given the
Duke, and which was on his horse, as I observed, when he entered
the town. His affability and good-nature are striking; but he must
acquire more dignity and self-possession, as his figure is against
him in appearance, and he seems shy; in short he must learn the trade
of kingcraft, like any other, and a quiet rational man is just now
the best king the French can have. The great rock to avoid is the
probability of being misled by indiscreet emigrants.
I was, it must be confessed, rather at a loss what to say to the Duke,
but when he talked of the saddle-cloth, I replied, that “Its only
merit, which was as a trophy, now was at an end, as the family of
the Bonapartes had ceased to be objects to triumph over.” This, and
a lame congratulation on what had happened, completed my speech; as,
however, it was as new to me to address royalty as it was to him to
act it, I hope if occasion offers I may improve by practice as well as
his Highness. One circumstance amused me much in all this scene: the
good city of Toulouse covered its streets with sand, and made the air
resound with cries, and every house had two paper lanterns in every
window at night; and they were, in general, I am convinced, sincere in
this, although one might have been induced to think otherwise from the
acts of the authorities and public offices. A set of _garde urbaine_
officers (the new gens-d’armes) ran all the way at the head of the
procession, prompting the cries, and setting them going all the way
we went; and the illuminations were, by special order of the mayor,
from the Bureau d’Illuminations, as usual in the time of Bonaparte’s
system. My intended observation is this—the city loyalty vented itself
in cries, in _Te Deums_, in music, and in farthing candles, and
dancing, shouting, draperies, &c., but the Royal Duke was placed in
the Palais Royale (_ci-devant_ Prefecture), and no provision made for
his table or for his establishment or Bordeaux guard of honour, and our
head-quarters’ Commissary was called upon to feed the animals, &c., of
the guard and followers, and Lord Wellington to entertain the Prince
and invite the principal citizens to meet him.
The old notion of the sign of the Four Alls—“John Bull pays for all,”
seems to be as well known here as elsewhere in the world. There seems
no principle now-a-days more generally diffused or adopted more readily
in every quarter. Our rations are all procured, you must be aware, by
requisitions, through the mayors of the country, &c., to be provided by
the districts, and you would naturally think the same authority could
provide for all French deserters, and for the Royal troops of guards
and establishment; but then who would pay for all these requisitions?
All we have is paid for; and it is _bien plus commode_ to come to our
store ready collected than to form one for these purposes.
An odd incident occurred to me just before the procession on Wednesday.
I was at Lord Wellington’s new hotel, the great inn, the Hotel de
France, endeavouring to find his room, to leave a Court-martial, when
I stumbled on my friend the Dutch aide-de-camp of General Clausel,
who told me he was looking for one of our Marshal’s aides-de-camp in
waiting to introduce his General, who was behind him, and who, on my
turning round, recognized me, as he and his division took me prisoner.
To their great surprise, I told them that there was no chance of
finding an aide-de-camp, but perhaps we might find a serjeant, and
I was on the search. It so happened that there was no one but an
ignorant sentinel. In trying a door or two, we all blundered upon
Lord Wellington, who came himself to the door; so I introduced the
astonished Clausel, and walked off.
My Dutch friend told me that Soult and Suchet would have had about six
aides-de-camp, &c., in the first room, and a general officer in waiting
in the second. I own that I think our great man goes to the opposite
extreme; but he does not like being watched and plagued. Just after
the state _levée_ yesterday, I saw him cross the crowded square in his
blue coat and round hat, almost unnoticed and unknown even to the very
people who half an hour before had been cheering him. In one angle of
Lord Wellington’s hotel lives Madam C——, a Spanish beauty, married into
a French family of rank, who are the proprietors of the hotel, but who
have been obliged to let nearly the whole, reserving this angle. I do
not mean to be scandalous; but this, perhaps, may have decided the
choice of the house.
Lord Wellington to-day had intelligence that Marshal Suchet was on his
way here, and has been with his staff about a dozen miles to meet him
in form. The French Marshal, from some confusion, did not appear, and
Lord Wellington would wait no longer, but returned alone. In our grand
procession to meet the royal Duke on Wednesday a ridiculous accident
happened. A French post carriage with three horses abreast ran away,
and came full drive down upon us, the Frenchmen all bawling, the horses
pulling all ways, and clearing all before them. Our three hundred
warriors were all broken in an instant, and dispersed over the ditches,
and in all directions, until at last one unfortunate horseman ran foul
of the French horses, and the whole came down together. Fortunately
nobody was materially hurt.
_Saturday, Post-day._—As I returned home last night by the Palais Royal
from dinner, I found every one going, without regular invitation, into
the Palais Royal to the Prince, who held a _soirée_; so I entered
likewise, and found him surrounded by dancing as usual, and by Marshals
and Generals only to be outdone at Paris. Suchet had arrived with his
staff. Colonel Canning, who was left behind for him, brought him in
about two hours after Lord Wellington returned. General Lamarque and
several other officers came with him, two Generals, as aides-de-camp,
besides Colonels, &c. The Marshal himself was a strange figure. His
head and cheeks and chin all overgrown with hair, like a wild man of
the woods: and his dress more splendid than the drum-major of one of
our Guards’ bands on a birthday.
The contrast had a singular effect. The uniform was blue, but almost
concealed, and could have stood alone with gold embroidery. Every seam,
edge, and button, before and behind, above and below, was _galloné_
with a sort of oak-leaf pattern about three inches wide, and on his
breast were two gold and silver stars, as large as our Garter star, and
several small orders of different kinds. He would have been rather a
good-looking man if dressed in a more moderate style. Lord Wellington
and several of his Generals, being in their plain uniforms, made the
French General’s extravagance the more striking.
Soult’s aide-de-camp also came in, and a guard was ready, and an hotel
for him, but he did not appear. Generals Lamarque, Clausel, Villette,
and three or four more, and a number of embroidered _Payeurs_ and
_Commissaires Généraux_, _Préfêts_, &c., increased the general glitter;
but nothing looked better than our scarlet. The Prince and Suchet had
much conversation, and seemed more easy and gay than I had seen the
former before with any of his new friends.
Scarcely any Frenchman has worn the Spanish or Portuguese cockade; and
amidst all the cries you never hear a _viva_ for either Spaniards or
Portuguese. They are in consequence very angry and sulky, and I think
a little jealous of us. This you may well imagine, when you learn that
they all along consider that _they_ have accomplished all that has
happened, and that we have assisted a little certainly, but that they
could have done without us. Except those about Lord Wellington, who
do it more out of compliment to him, the Spaniards in general, and a
great number of the Portuguese, will not in consequence wear the white
cockade.
I see no harm in this, for as we fought a whole century to prevent
the two kingdoms of France and Spain from being both under the
Bourbons, it is quite as well now that it happens to be our interest
to fight for the contrary doctrine, that there should be as little
cordiality between them as possible. A Spanish soldier was told the
other day in the street to cry “_Vive le Roi! Vivent les Bourbons!_”
He made no answer. The request was repeated, and he was asked why
he made a difficulty. He was still silent at first, but then rapped
out a favourite Spanish oath, then “_Viva Fernando VII.! Viva Lord
Wellington!_ Los Espanoles care for nothing more;” and nothing more
would he say.
It is remarkable enough, but the fact is that Lord Wellington is very
popular with the common Spanish soldiers, I am told, and with the
country people; but with the generality of officers, regimental in
particular, and with the highest classes in Spain, it is rather the
reverse.
It is curious now to see Lord Wellington play the second fiddle, having
been so long established leader. It will serve to break him in by
degrees for England and peace. He carries it off very well. Most of
our Lieutenant-generals are gone to Paris, or going, and many other
officers. I suppose it will be best for me to remain with the army to
the last, or at least as long as Lord Wellington remains, and then go
straight to London and report my arrival.
At the Capitolium on Thursday, young B——, with whom I was talking, as
we were very hot and tired, persuaded me to sit down with him on the
bottom step of the vacant throne. The Prince and all the grandees were
then in another room, but we were soon routed up by the _garde urbaine_
sentinel, to the mortification and vexation of my young honourable
companion at not being allowed at Toulouse what he was entitled to in
the House of Lords in England. He is well; and dancing away cotillions,
waltzes, &c.
_Later._—We have just had an arrival, and Lord Wellington quits this
place for Paris immediately: I hope, however, that he will return
shortly, as he now intends to do. We all here said that matters would
never be well arranged at Paris without him, and that he would go at
last.
_Head-Quarters, Toulouse, May 2nd, 1814._—Having thanked you for your
letter of the 12th of April, and papers to the same date, I must
proceed on my old subject, Toulouse, and its sights and curiosities,
regretting on your account, as well as my own, that they are not more
interesting.
The great cannon-foundry here was formerly one of the most prominent,
but it has now ceased to work for nearly three or four years. How or
why this could happen, when military works and manufactures seemed
alone to flourish in France during that period, I cannot say. The fact
is, everything remains in a state as if the workmen were only all gone
away to dinner, but in silent desolation, like a scene in Herculaneum,
or Southey’s town under water. Unfinished moulds, guns, &c., and tools
are lying about in all directions. To show how much the whole has been
neglected, even _Egalité_ has been suffered to remain on one entrance
pillar, _Liberté_ on the other, and the word _Impérial_ in the middle.
The fleur-de-lys will, I suppose, find its way there soon by some
accident.
Suchet now commands both armies here. He told the Duke d’Angoulême that
he had sixteen thousand men of his own army at his service. This hero,
to whom the day of the month, yesterday (May-day), reminded me of a
much nearer resemblance than the drum-major, has left us, and is off to
his troops.
There are two public libraries here, in which I have spent the better
part of a morning each, one containing about thirty thousand volumes,
the other about twenty-five thousand. The former has too large a
proportion of ecclesiastical learning; but they both contain some good
editions of classics and good historians, annals, &c., particularly
the smaller library. They are old episcopal and private foundations,
and have neither gained nor lost much by the Revolution, which is
rather extraordinary. There seems to have been no very valuable early
editions or manuscripts—nothing very much worth plundering; and they
say they were too conscientious to take advantage of the times, and
enrich themselves by plunder. The arrangement of the books is not bad.
Firstly, good polyglot and other Bibles of all kinds; then commentaries
on sacred history, &c.; then history in general; then laws of nations,
&c.; then laws in general, essays, &c.; then French voyages, arts,
sciences, classics, and belles lettres. There is an atlas of the Grand
Canal and its vicinity on an immense scale, which might have been
important had we proceeded, though I think no other stand would have
been made until after we had gone beyond the limits of the canal, and
after a junction of Soult with Suchet at Narbonne. Amongst the books
pointed out as of the most interest, were Racine’s Greek editions of
Euripides and Æschylus, containing his name and several notes in his
own handwriting,—a remarkably neat hand. The editions were Stephens’
and Stanley’s. The notes were either short free translations of
passages and sentiments, or memoranda to call attention to particular
passages for future use and application, or they were short remarks of
approbation or disapprobation of scenes, passages, &c. I copied out
nearly the whole, not being very long, and I now enclose them. Will
you oblige me by putting them into my Euripides or somewhere, to be
preserved.
Several of the private houses here of the merchants and nobles are on
a very large scale, and contain very spacious suites of rooms round
the court-yard. The architecture is, in general, very moderate. Most
of the mansions have only the merit of extent; and one or two which
have an attempt at more are in bad taste. The one most remarkable is
particularly so. It has an immense heavy stone cornice, out of all
proportion, and the capitals of all the pillars are a species of false
Corinthian, or rather, Composite, with the upper ornaments, spread
eagles, in most barbarous taste, and in the place of the most beautiful
part of the true pillars of the Composite order.
Toulouse appears to have been for a very considerable time nearly
stationary in size. There is not, as in some of our country towns, and
in some of those in France, the new town as well as the old. The old
brick walls, with occasional towers, remain entire almost all round,
and still form nearly the city boundary, for there is scarcely any
suburbs without the walls. At several of the entrances within there
seems to have been some vacant spaces, and in two or three places an
ornamental sort of crescent or square has been commenced,—one lately,
but the others before the Revolution. They are all unfinished. In
general, however, all within the city walls is covered with building of
some sort or another.
The splendid façade of the Capitolium was raised before the Revolution.
Henry IV. commenced the work, it is said, and his statue remains there.
A very small beginning has been made towards stone façades on one of
the other sides of the Grande Place of the Capital, but in general the
old shabby buildings still remain, and seem likely to do so, for some
time to come.
_May 3rd._—Our Prince is gone to review his new army under Suchet, and
leaves us quiet. Every day carries off some of our higher officers,
and we all expect to move the instant Lord Wellington returns, if not
before. To-morrow, if possible, I go with a party and passport to
see the great basin de Feriol, the main feeder of the Grand Canal.
It is the sight of this country, and therefore, though expecting to
be disappointed, I have agreed to join Dr. Macgregor and a party
to-morrow, and return the next day. It is near Revel, about thirty-two
miles off.
I yesterday attended the Court of Appeal here for the four departments
around—Aude, Tarn, Lot and Garonne, and Arriège. There were ten judges
present: there exist, and may be present, as many as sixteen, and a
quorum of seven is necessary to form a Court. There were, besides the
_Procureur-Général_ and _Advocat-Général_, about twenty-five barristers
in gowns, nearly like ours, but with bonnets instead of wigs. They
were dirty, and mostly old, and looked precisely like a set of
provincial barristers in England. The same habits make the manners and
appearance so similar in nations nearly equally civilized, that, until
the language betrayed the difference, I could have fancied myself in
England again.
The subject in dispute was half an acre of vineyard, and it turned on
the construction of a confused legacy in a will of an old gentleman.
The eagerness with which the contest was maintained reminded me of a
Court of Quarter Sessions in England,—all talking at once, and with
abundance of noise and action, especially just as the ten judges, like
our juries, had laid their heads together to consider, and whilst _le
Procureur-Général_ was summing up the law and argument previously to
the Court. Either the lawyers and judges must be starving, or the
judicial establishment must be very expensive in France now.
There are, besides this Court, others of _Première Instance_ in each
department, and in four departments you have more judges than in
England. Unless some changes are made, the French, in my opinion,
will find their whole government, which is calculated for a larger
empire, in every way much too expensive. This will prevent any great
reduction of ordinary taxation. The King and his court to be paid; the
senate; all the marshals and grand dignitaries, the prefêts, &c. Each
department now has a salary to pay its prefêt nearly as large as that
of an intendant of a whole province before the Revolution. The King
will find abundance of patronage, if this goes on; but a great part of
the national income will be consumed in the management and support of
the different species of rulers. One advantage in this, it is to be
hoped, will be to keep France more quiet in future, as I have otherwise
little faith in the present temper of this changeable race.
_May 7, 1814. Post-day._—At five o’clock on Wednesday morning I went
to Dr. Macgregor’s to breakfast, preparatory to our expedition to St.
Feriol, having obtained our leave and a passport for that purpose. Our
party consisted of Dr. H——, Colonel G——, and P——, General H——, and Mr.
J——, and Mrs. J——. On account of the latter, who was in an interesting
condition, we set out on the canal road towards Castelnaudary, that she
might go in the boat. We rode along the towing-path very pleasantly for
about twenty miles. Finding that Castelnaudary would be so much out of
the way, we then left the canal and rode across through Villefranche
and St. Felix to Revel, about twenty-two miles further. This water
scheme delayed us much, so that we did not reach Revel until seven or
eight at night, and it also lengthened our ride considerably.
The ordinary dinner at twelve, at the lock-house, was however,
entertaining, and partly made up for this; but, in truth, ladies should
learn on these occasions, when in such a state, to stay at home. We
expected a _malheur_ every hour, she was so fatigued.
On Thursday morning, after breakfast, we went three miles to Sorège,
to see the great college or school establishment there, which is about
three miles from Revel. It was formerly attached to a convent, and
a sort of Government military establishment. At the Revolution the
buildings were sold, and the present director and his brother, who
was one of the professors of the old establishment, bought the whole,
and undertook to continue, and, as they say, to improve the plan as a
private specution. There are now about three hundred boys, from eight
to nineteen, or even twenty-one years old. On the present arrangement,
four hundred and forty is the limit. The number, it is said, once
amounted to nearly six or seven hundred. There are now about thirty
Protestant boys. The rest are Catholics. Most of the Spanish boys, once
very numerous, left the school during the late war. This peace, it is
supposed, will bring them back, even in greater numbers. English boys
are also expected to come again, as formerly.
The building is very spacious, and is prettily situated, under the
side of a mountainous tract of country, at the head of a valley. The
accommodation is very ample, and the order and arrangement very great;
though, in my opinion, it is less cleanly than the college at Aire. The
studies are more varied; and the whole is complete in itself; for there
is a priest, a doctor, an Italian professor of mineralogy, anatomy,
a riding-master, and teachers of all kinds. The regular studies for
all the boys are French, Latin, a little Greek, mathematics to some
extent, dancing, swimming, drawing from models and casts, perspective,
drawing from anatomical study, fortification, &c.; and for the upper
boys, riding—for which purpose about sixteen horses are at the disposal
of the riding-master. In addition to this, every boy has his own
bedstead of iron; and all the two upper classes of the three into
which the whole school is divided have separate places to sleep in.
Every boy, at a certain time, either follows in his studies the choice
of his parents, or his own inclination, and may learn Italian, German,
English, Spanish, or any musical instrument; even the pianoforte. The
drawing-school is hung round with the approved productions of the boys,
and is spacious, and so is the riding-school. There is also a theatre,
regularly fitted up, in which the boys recite, and act plays and
perform concerts; asking the neighbours to come and form an audience.
The establishment also contains a small botanical garden, a tolerable
collection of mineralogy, and a piece of water for the purpose of
swimming. The boys were all in uniform, and looked healthy and well. As
they come from all quarters, it is usual to leave them there all the
year round, and this is rather expected and desired. They come clothed
at first, but afterwards everything is found them, and the parents
have nothing to do but to pay _mille francs_, about 45_l._ or 50_l._,
annually, and no bills or extras of any kind are ever sent or charged,
whatever may be learnt by the boys: this is rather dearer than at Aire
or St. Sever, I believe, but not much, when all circumstances are
considered.
We found the schoolmasters consequential and prosy, as they usually
are with us. The Italian, who was more particularly so, was formerly
the professor who managed the Grand Duke of Tuscany’s collection. This
education would, I think, suit many an orphan or natural son destined
for the English army, and with small means. He would join his regiment
at eighteen, with much more useful knowledge than could be obtained for
the same money in England, as to languages, &c., and much information
useful to a military man. He would also come away, with at least one
or two accomplishments probably, by which he might amuse himself in
country-quarters, and be kept out of mischief. It might also answer
for mercantile men, merchants, clerks, &c., though, perhaps, some of
these pursuits would only make them idle. Most of the boys are destined
for merchants or soldiers, I understood. For other professions,
probably, we have as good, or better, and as cheap an education in
Yorkshire, and other places in England. This sort of education accounts
for the general distribution of a certain extent of acquirement which
we see amongst the French officers, and for the advantages they possess
as to the power of self-amusement. When prisoners of war, they have a
smattering of drawing, dancing, singing, music, acting, &c.
We then went to the basin of St. Feriol. On our way I rode up a valley
to see some foundries of copper, which were much talked of; only one
of a number was at work, as times were so bad. I found the copper was
Swedish, and only worked there on account of the facilities of wood and
water to work the bellows and anvil. The work in which the men were
then engaged, was making saucepans and pots, and stewing-pans for the
Toulouse ships, and on a very small scale. I always like to ascertain
that there is nothing to see when a sight is talked of. We went then
over the hill to the basin.
The extent of this basin rather surprised me; but though it was almost
exactly what I expected to find it, I was very glad to have seen it.
The shape of the ground, and course of the stream, were particularly
fortunate and well adapted to the plan, and the great dam or dyke,
which pens back the water, so as to form a small lake, in depth, near
the wall, from fifty to sixty feet, is a noble work. It consists of
three main walls, well _terrassed_ or puddled between each, and with
two large arched vaults, one quite at the bottom, covering the natural
bed of the river; the other higher up, and leading to the _robinets_
or great cocks, which let out the water as required. The river coming
down the valley fills the basin, not being able to find its vent, and
therefore spreading over the ground, and filling all the hollows up
to the dam wall, which is about sixty feet high. The banks, except
the natural dam, are the natural shape of the ground, and there is
no excavation at all. When full, the water as required is let out by
a hatch, and so runs by into the stream, which conducts it, after
about ten miles circuit, to the highest point of the canal, whence
the locks descend both ways to Toulouse, and to the Mediterranean.
It then supplies both. When the basin is low, the next opening is a
sort of hatch or floodgate, lower down in the wall; when lower still,
the water is let off by three great _robinets_ or cocks at the end of
the _voute_, about thirty feet or so below the surface. When these
are opened, the rushing of the water makes a tremendous noise, at a
distance like that of thunder. When it is required to empty or clean
the basin, the river is turned off, and the contents of the basin empty
themselves in the original bed of the stream: the contents of the basin
are, in my opinion, six millions of tons of water. There is another
smaller basin, about ten miles higher up, in the mountains, and another
near the canal, whence the stream enters it.
The whole seems well managed. The canal itself is kept in great order,
like our New River, the banks trimmed, &c.; and in width it exceeds
even our Royal Canal in Ireland, probably by several yards.
With much delay and difficulty, we got Mrs. J—— through these sights,
after much unnecessary alarm and fright in the vaults. We returned
about five to dinner at Revel, where we slept again yesterday. We had
a hot ride home through Caraman and Lentar, about thirty-two miles.
The country round the canal and in the bottoms is rich and fertile,
but it contains little wood. It is like some of our Somersetshire
and Dorsetshire valleys, but more covered with villas and chateaux,
and villages. The road back, by Caraman, is through a much poorer
country, but also like the higher bad parts of Somersetshire, and that
neighbourhood—such as near Chard and the hills round Bath.
The villages seem in a state of decay, and the inhabitants poor, but
the country upon the whole is in much better condition, in point of
cultivation and appearance, than one could suppose after what has
passed in the last twenty years. In one or two out-of-the-way places
we were stared at, and followed like monsters or sights, but were
everywhere well received by the people. At Sorège some French cavalry
was quartered; but they were nearly all gone to the grand review before
the Duke d’Angoulême. I should like to have been there also; but we
understood it would not be liked, and that the Duke was to go without
English altogether: this was quite right. I am told that the review
went off well, and that Soult himself set a good example.
It is strange to think of our carrying off Bonaparte in a frigate; and
his conversation with Augereau is curious after the address of the
latter to his men. King Joseph is gone off and escaped; but no one need
be much afraid of him now.
The style of nearly all the French chateaux is similar; all front and
appearance.
On my return yesterday I dined with Mr. B—— and his French hosts, for I
scarcely know whose dinner it was; I believe a joint effort. The wines
were the patron’s, and very good. He is a man of fortune, a Monsieur de
T——, and speaks English tolerably. The wife is a pleasing woman, and
rather good-looking and young. They were very civil, and she sang and
played in the evening very fairly. At least she had much execution and
dash, if not feeling, in her playing. Like most of our young female
players, she left out all the andantes and slow passages.
The furniture of the two or three rooms in which she lived was very
splendid. Handsome carpets were alone wanting to make her own room in
particular an elegant fine lady’s drawing-room in England. In some
respects, particularly as to the gilding, there was both more show and
taste than generally are seen with us. The pianoforte was particularly
handsome; it was by Erard of Paris, and, though only a small one, cost
a hundred louis d’or. The whole content of her room cost, it is said, a
thousand louis d’or.
In the variety and materials of the ladies’ dresses here, there seems
to be also a very considerable degree of luxury—more perhaps than with
us.
We are now very dull, and as the Prince is still absent, do not
even hear the “_Vive le Roi!_” or “_Vivent les Bourbons!_” &c., as
usual. I was much amused yesterday at seeing pasted up at a country
inn, a halfpenny print of the royal Duke d’Angoulême in his best, on
horseback, and surrounded by a copy of most loyal verses singing his
praises and those of the Bourbons, and the English, in the measure, and
going to the music of the famous Marseillais hymn; in short, a sort of
parody of that song, beginning “_Allons enfans de la Garonne_,” &c.
What changes!