Preparations for Departure—Bordeaux—Imposition on the
English—Greetings from the Women—Mausoleum of Louis XVI.
Wednesday, June 1, 1814.
Toulouse.
MY DEAR M——,
Here we are still, but on the point of moving. The orders are actually
out, and our route fixed. We start on Saturday, the 4th of June, I
suspect on purpose to avoid festivities on that day. On the 10th we
hope to be at Bordeaux: 4th, Isle en Jourdain; 5th, Auch; 6th, Condom;
7th, halt; 8th, Castel Jelous; 9th, Langon; 10th, Bordeaux. This will
be sharp work for loaded mules, and warm for us all, for the weather is
now clearing up, and promises to be hot again.
I am tired of Toulouse, and not sorry to leave it, though the
inhabitants continue to be civil and friendly. So indeed they ought
to be, as they have made no little money out of us, and have been
continually entertained by balls, &c. Since the Duke has been away
we have had three balls given by the Adjutant-general, General Byng,
and by the aides-de-camp. At last I was, by accident, introduced to
a Madame de Vaudreuil. She was it turns out, wife to the son of the
old admiral, our _emigré_ Marquis in England, and your cousin. I was
then introduced to the husband, and we had some conversation on family
matters. He mentioned his nephew, the aide-de-camp in Ireland, and
inquired much after the Hochepieds, &c. To-morrow I am to breakfast
with them, and you shall hear more. He is a little man, but high, and
in repute here.
No events of any consequence have occurred. The only thing at all
worth mentioning which I can recollect is a trait of the conduct of
the French lower officers of Soult’s army. Two of the officers of the
43rd British rode towards Montauban a few days since, out of their own
limits, without a passport. This, though foolish just now, was a venial
offence, and committed by many French, who come in here within our line
of demarcation. On a bridge near the town our two gentlemen were met by
about eight or ten, not gentlemen, but officers of the French garrison
there. The latter immediately attacked the two British officers rudely,
told them that they ought to know better their own limits, and added
at last that if they intended to come again, they advised them to come
with their coats off, sleeves turned up, and swords drawn. One man
actually went so far as to come behind one of our officers to knock his
hat off, that he might get out the white cockade; in short, the two
Englishmen were obliged to yield and return back.
An apology was, it is said, sent in to our General, from the commanding
officer at Montauban, stating that he was sorry for what had happened,
and hoping we would consider it as the act of some _mauvais sujets_
in the lower commissioned ranks of the army, and not the act of, or
sanctioned by, the garrison in general. I believe, however, that it is
intended still to make some remonstrance on the subject.
Dr. Macgregor has returned here, delighted with his trip to Montpelier,
Avignon, Nismes, Valence, &c. He was received most cordially
everywhere, and at some places quite enthusiastically. Almost at every
place, he fell in with fêtes and entertainments in consequence of the
late changes, and the whole country was covered with conscripts and
deserters going home: he thinks he must have seen from ten to fifteen
thousand. Everywhere, he found much jealousy between the military, the
national guards, and the civilians, as is the case here. There were
several quarrels in consequence. At the playhouse at Montpelier the
applause was so violent at a new popular piece called “The Conscript,”
that a French General, who was there with his suite, conceived it a
marked insult to himself and rose to leave the house, but was persuaded
to remain.
The Society of Medicine at Montpelier made the Doctor a member, with
such fine speeches, that even though he only half understood them, they
raised his blushes.
_Friday, June 3rd._—In the midst of the bustle and confusion of my
preparations for the march of to-morrow, I received this day your
letter and papers to the 24th of May. I had just been reading in
to-day’s French paper London news of the same date, so that, even this
late mail, of only nine or ten days from London, brought us nothing
new politically from England. The details, however, and private news
are always interesting. I shall have more occasion for them as I am
going the road on this (the Toulouse) side of the Garonne, instead
of our military route, and shall be nearly, if not quite, alone,
for almost every other person who goes this way intends to travel
post, or ride faster than would suit me this warm weather. This road
is said to be by far the most picturesque, rich, and amusing; and,
having a passport ready, I mean to start at five to-morrow. My route
is through Grisolles, Castel Sarazin, Monteil, Moissac, Agen, Port
St. Marie (where I shall try and see our _emigré_ friend, the Baron
de Trenqueléon), Tomeirs, Reolle; then, if necessary, cross the river
to Langon, but if not, keep the right bank, opposite Bordeaux. I have
sent my baggage and Henry on in the line of march, and only take a
Portuguese _ci-devant_ servant to the Prince of Orange, and now mine,
on a pony, with a small valise, and intend to trust to the inns for
everything. Thus I shall avoid troops, and nearly all places through
which they have passed.
The last detachment of cavalry will leave this to-morrow, to start
to Grisolles and Montauban on Sunday. The Hussars in advance leave
Montauban to-day. The last infantry will move from hence on Sunday; and
the whole infantry from hence will be assembled at Bordeaux (excepting
what may be embarked) by the 17th of June. The last Portuguese will
pass Bayonne about the 23rd; and then the Guards and troops there will
be at liberty to move—not before. The Spaniards are nearly all out of
the country already!
Sir W. W. Wynne has been here these last five or six days, to succeed
the Marquess of Buckingham; they are specimens of what are considered
our greatest peers and commoners. The people here stare at them, and
look strange. The inhabitants are seriously sorry for our departure,
I really believe. We had a sort of farewell party at the Duke’s house
yesterday, given by Colonel C. Campbell, of all the great men here:
we dined, then went to the play, and then to the ball. Some of our
Generals are so pleased that they talk seriously of returning here
after peace is signed, and they have laid by their laurels in England.
Having so many things to do, I must now end this, and leave it to go by
the post, for I shall be away from head-quarters, and the regular post,
perhaps, next mail. Do not be surprised if you do not hear again very
soon. On my arrival at Bordeaux I shall endeavour to write immediately,
and let you know my plans.
_Head-Quarters, Bordeaux, June 13th, 1814._—On Saturday (11th), I sent
you a few hasty lines, I will now try and fill up the interval from
Toulouse here, with an account of my proceedings during that time.
After a tremendous thunder-storm, at six in the morning of the 4th
of June, I started along the rich plain in which Toulouse stands, and
proceeded through Grisolles, and a number of small places, to Castle
Sarazin; but not liking the appearance of the latter, I went on to
Moissac, which is just across the Tarn, at which place the plain
ceases, and the road becomes hilly.
The distance was about forty-five miles to Moissac; the country all
rich and fertile, but much too bare of wood, and the road is tiresome
from its uniformly level character. The river ran the whole way, about
half a mile from the road, and the opposite bank being high, bounded
the view on that side, and formed a picturesque object, though not the
most profitable, for the soil seemed less rich. The flat lands must be
subject to great losses and damage from floods, as there is no fall for
the sudden torrents which descend. The corn in many places had suffered
much this year.
At Grisolles, I passed the last of the cavalry (the Blues) on their
way home. The Life Guards entered Montauban with laurels. The Préfet
immediately told the commanding officer, that he understood his men
were come into the town in a triumphant manner, and seemed much vexed,
until reminded that it was the 4th of June, when he became civil,
and admitted the validity of the reason. On stopping at the village
of Fignan, to give my horses some corn, I was very glad to find the
inhabitants regretting the departure of the Portuguese regiment which
had been quartered there, as they had behaved so well. They told me
the people cried when they crossed the water, and the next day so many
soldiers came back to take another farewell of their new friends, that
the officers were compelled to place a guard to prevent it.
The Tarn at Moissac was wide, and the current very strong. The passage
by the ferry, a troublesome one, backwards and forwards, through
the remains of the ruined buttresses of an old bridge. On landing I
asked for the Commandant or French General. There had been unpleasant
altercations of late near that place and neighbourhood. The officer
of whom I inquired pointed to General Key, the late governor of St.
Sebastian, who happened to be near. I announced myself to him, and was
received civilly by him, and then immediately went to the inn.
The only sights noticeable in the town are a great water-mill in the
river, with about twenty-four pair of mill-stones, and a number of
establishments for purifying wheat and preparing flour. These last
were on a large scale, but without machinery of any ingenuity, and one
steam-engine would have saved them nearly all their labour, which was
great. The country round is famous as a corn country, and Moissac was
once a great place of export for flour and wheat by the canal, &c., of
Toulouse, to Montpelier, and by the Tarn and Garonne to Bordeaux, and
thence to the French islands and foreign settlements. The inhabitants
wished much to begin dealing with the English; but I told them that our
Parliament was about to prevent that taking place.
There is a curious old church at Moissac with many carved grotesque
figures at the entrance. The style is nearly the old English, but in
some places, the early Gothic. The accommodation at the inns is very
good; but the joke of Milord Anglois has commenced, and is increasing
fast. We were all _mon Commandant_ and _mon Général_; and paid
accordingly.
The next day, on leaving Moissac, I ascended a long hill, and continued
on rich high ground above the river, in a country of cultivated,
undulating scenery, with more wood, somewhat resembling Devonshire or
Somersetshire, with the exception of the want of hedges. This continued
about seven miles, when I came down again, having a fine view of the
river, and continued my way along the banks over a rich flat through
several villages and small towns to Agen, about thirty-four miles from
Moissac. The valley was here much narrower and varied than that at
Toulouse, bounded on both sides by gentle hills, cultivated and rich,
as well as apparently populous, along the whole way. The French troops
were in cantonments in every village, and in general looked very sulky.
A few touched their caps to me, as I was in my scarlet uniform; but
most looked sulky and took no notice. I was, however, never insulted.
The cries of the children all the way, and often of the country-women,
and sometimes of the men, of _vivent les Anglois!_ certainly did not
contribute to put their soldiers and officers in better humour. If so
disposed, I could easily, as the Irish say, “have picked a quarrel.”
At Agen all was gaiety and bustle. It was the Sunday before their
great fair; and all was preparing for that, as well as for the service
which was to take place in the great church the next day for Louis
XVI., the Queen, &c. I immediately went to the Commandant of the town.
He was civil, but the numerous officers looked very much disposed to
be impertinent, if occasion should offer. The eager curiosity of the
townspeople to see the English, and to be civil, was very pleasing;
every one seemed anxious to show some attention. Here I fell in with
Dr. M—— and Mr. and Mrs. J——, and after dining together, we went to the
play.
It was a little narrow theatre, but almost new, and very clean and
neat. The performances were not despicable. There was a good-looking
singer, with no bad voice, from Bordeaux. In the character she acted
much happened to be said of her innocence and inexperience. From the
constant joking this gave rise to in the audience, and from some very
prominent feature in her person, I conclude that she had lately been
under the necessity of retiring from Bordeaux, from some little _faux
pas_. And this, I was told afterwards, was the case.
Agen is an old and rather shabby town of about ten or eleven thousand
inhabitants; but the walks and country around it are picturesque.
The next morning I staid until after the ceremony had commenced in
the church, and peeped in, to see what was going on, and whether the
military attended. Many of the latter did so, with crape round their
arms. I was immediately admitted without a ticket; and the old priests,
several of whom had been _émigrés_, and spoke a little English, were
very civil to me. About twenty milliners had made really a very elegant
linen and crape mausoleum for the occasion, nearly twenty feet high.
Four fluted pillars, one at each corner, were made of fine white linen,
the festoons round the base were of black and white crape, urns on the
pillars, and other ornaments of the same. About a hundred and fifty
wax candles were arranged up the steps on every side of the tomb, and
above it were lilies springing fresh from the centre, and the crown, in
elegant crape, suspended above the whole.
About ten o’clock I started again to find out the Baron de Trenqueléon
at Port St. Marie, which was about twelve miles from Agen. On inquiry
at the inn, I found a friend of his son’s who had left him only a few
hours before. I, therefore, determined to cross the river again, in
order to pay him a visit, and to stay there the night. Trenqueléon
Chateau is about five miles from Port St. Marie, on the road thence to
Nerac, on the side of the hills which enclose the valley in which the
Garonne descends. It is old-fashioned, in the style of the Tuileries,
and apparently large. In reality, it does not contain much room, but is
a comfortable place.
Except two higher wings, it is, in fact, only a ground-floor house.
The rooms are lofty, spacious, and decently furnished for a French
house in the country. There is a great square garden in front, like a
wilderness full of weeds, with a square plantation and straight walks.
The roads run about two hundred yards from it on one side, and a small
river navigable for boats on the other, which runs into the Garonne
about four miles below. This would be convenient to export the produce,
if there were a market, which of late had been the case.
I found the old Baron feeble, without the use of his limbs, in a
great chair penned in like a child. He was surrounded by a large
party—his wife, his son, and his son’s wife, daughter to the _maire_
of Agen; an old lady, whom I took for the Baron’s sister; and five
young ladies, who called him “Papa.” One of these was in weeds, and
one about twenty-five or thirty; the rest young. One was a fresh,
ruddy, English-looking girl. All were most attentive and civil. The
old Baron made me repeatedly kiss him, and cried several times as he
conversed with me. He remembered all our friends in England during
his emigration. He was very anxious to know all I could tell him of
my brothers. He asked much after your sister and brother, and the
T—— family. His table was bad, but there was quantity, and a hearty
welcome. I was put into his uncle’s room, our old friend the Bishop
of Montpelier. His family seemed attentive to him, and, except at
meal times, seemed to live around him, some at work, some reading
the papers to him, and some sitting ready to talk, and with no other
occupation. The poor girls must lead a very dull life in the Chateau de
Trenqueléon, for from the state of the Baron’s health they do not go
out to balls or amusements even at Agen.
On the following morning I left Trenqueléon about twelve o’clock, and
crossed the river again at a ferry near Aiguillon, which is a pretty
town, small, but well situated. I got on to Tomeins that night. The
country continues to be the same rich valley the whole way, and is
very populous. Tomeins is a small ill-built town of perhaps about five
thousand inhabitants. There is nothing of interest in it, except a fine
sort of Richmond-terrace view from the public walk overhanging the
river. The women struck us as very pretty, and they were peculiarly
eager about “_les Anglois_” one or two calling out in English, as we
passed near the windows where they were, “How you do? how you do?”
&c., and then running away to hide themselves. And this came from
well-dressed girls in good houses.
On the 8th I proceeded through Marmande de la Reolle, to breakfast; and
then crossing the river again near Langon, I intended to stop at the
pretty village of Barsac, about five miles on this side Langon, where
the good wine of that name comes from. Finding all this part full of
our sixth division, just arrived, I was obliged to push on to Ceron, a
mere post stage and a poor inn.
On the 9th I proceeded to this place (Bordeaux), and arrived by one
o’clock, when my order to proceed to Tarragona (for the trial of Sir J.
Murray) was put into my hands. I found every one in the same hurry and
confusion as when the Duke paid us his last visit at Toulouse.
The country continued nearly the same until we got some way beyond
Barsac; we then began to skirt the Landes, and had only sand and firs,
a sort of Bagshot Heath, but still broken by frequent villages and
chateaux, which are very numerous around Bordeaux.
During my journey I always stopped at some small inn for a feed of corn
in the course of the way, and also during rain, which was frequent and
heavy. I gave the chance passengers their wine to make them talk. A
drunken Frenchman seemed much like an English one, and was sometimes
very entertaining; but the feeling of the soldiers was the most
curious. At one place I found two discharged soldiers going home on
leave; they said that they had been betrayed by their Generals, &c.,
and that the game was up, so they had applied for their discharges,
for they would not fight for the King. They had served seven or eight
years, and now intended to be quiet, though their wounds would not have
prevented their fighting for the Emperor. One had lost a finger only,
the other had received a knock in the leg, which rather made him halt a
little; they had both above sixteen months’ pay due to them, but said
that they concluded, of course, the King would never pay the Emperor’s
debts, and they were satisfied to be discharged without pensions. They
said that nine-tenths of the soldiers of the army would have remained
firm to the Emperor if their Generals had been faithful, and had agreed
in opinion with them; “_mais n’importe—c’est fini_.”
The Trenqueléon party told me, they were for some time in great
uneasiness, for we had no troops near them on the left bank of the
river, and on the right bank only came down to the river Lot. Thus Agen
was the centre of the formation of partisan corps who were to cross the
river near them, and scour the country to annoy us.
In three or four instances they succeeded in this; and the Commissioner
was issuing most violent orders to compel all persons to form their
corps immediately (these if caught by us would be hung), and to teach
the women also, to entice our soldiers into their houses by wine,
&c., to make them prisoners and kill them, and even to instruct their
children to cut the back sinews of the horses in the stables at night,
saying they must do as the Spaniards did by them in Spain.
The Baron’s family said they had different feelings, but would have
been compelled to do much of this had matters gone on. They also talked
with much horror of the state of terror in which they had been kept by
Bonaparte’s agents. One deputy Préfet some time since alarmed them by
quietly telling some of their neighbours (who told them again) that
they were in a terrible scrape, and had been detected corresponding
with the English. They went instantly to the Préfet to know what this
meant, and found it was one of my father’s letters about the Bishop of
Montpelier’s affairs, which had been stopped by the police. My father
was the Bishop’s executor in England. The Préfet afterwards told him
to be easy—“_ce n’étoit rien_.” The Baron seems to have been a popular
character in the neighbourhood.
_12th, later._—A mail goes to-day, and I have a pile of papers a foot
high to arrange by to-morrow. The Duke goes away and leaves the army
the day after, Wednesday the 14th, consequently all is a bustle of
business, balls, dinners, operas, plays, all proceeding at once. My
next will give you an account of this handsome town. I am in quarters
at Monsieur Emerigon’s, a barrister now at Paris, but daily expected
to return. The Duke has written strongly home to put off this intended
Court-martial at Tarragona; all here detest it, and grumble. The worst
is, that we are to remain here in suspense until an answer arrives.
I am writing without my coat, and so are all the Duke’s Secretaries,
&c., on account of the heat. The thermometer shut up in my writing-desk
is at 76°. The sun most ardent when out.