END OF CAPTIVITY.
Horses bolt, and cart upsets—Reach Blois after six days’
travelling—Miserable condition of French troops after return from
Moscow—Ordered to Gueret on the Creuse—A miserable journey of five
days—Poor accommodation—Allowed to move to country quarters at
Masignon—An earthquake shock—News of Napoleon’s abdication—Start
for Paris—Reach Fontainebleau in nine days—Proceed to
Paris—Lodgings dear and scarce—State entrance of Louis XVIII. into
Paris.
At the time appointed we had our machine ready. The gendarmes were
literally driving some of the officers out of the town. To save them the
trouble of doing us the same favour we departed early. On the first stage
from Verdun, in descending a steep, long hill, a hailstorm overtook us,
and as the hailstones fell they froze. The horses could not keep their
feet, nor could our sailor coachman keep his seat. The animals slid down
part of the way very comfortably. At length, after much struggling, they
once more gained a footing, and in so doing, the fore wheels came in
contact with their hinder feet, which unfortunately frightened and set
them off at full speed. I got hold of the reins with the coachman, and
endeavoured to pull them into a ditch to the left—on the right was a
precipice—the reins broke, and we had no longer command over them. We were
in this state of anxiety for a few minutes, when the fore wheels detached
themselves from the carriage, and over it went on its larboard broadside.
I was, with the coachman, thrown head foremost into the ditch, which,
being half filled with snow, broke the violence of our launch. I soon
floundered out of it, without being much hurt. My falling companion, being
a much stouter man than myself did not fare so well, as his right shoulder
received a severe contusion. The noble man-of-war captain inside had his
face much cut with the bottles of wine that were in the pockets of the
vehicle, and he would have made an excellent phantasmagoria. His nephew
had one of his legs very much injured. Here we were in a most pitiable
condition, not knowing what to do, as we could not move our travelling
machine without assistance. As we were scratching our wise heads, and
looking at each other with forlorn faces, a party of French soldiers
approached, and for a five-franc piece they assisted us in righting the
carriage and catching the horses, which had been stopped at the bottom of
the hill. On an examination of our cart we found that, fortunately for us,
the traverse pin of the fore-wheels had jumped out, which freed them and
the horses, and occasioned our turning turtle. Had not this taken place,
we most likely should have gone over the precipice. We, after some
sailor-like contrivances, got under weigh. As we were grown wiser by this
mishap, we took care to lock the hinder wheels when going down hill in
future. We reached Clermont in the dusk of the evening, and glad I was to
turn into a bed replete with hoppers, crawlers, and wisdom, for it was
very hard. Being much fatigued, I slept soundly, notwithstanding my
numerous biting companions.
After a most suffering, cold, and uncomfortable journey of six days we
reached Blois. A number of our soldiers and sailors perished with cold on
the road. We assisted some few of them with money and something to eat.
Poor fellows! some were so worn out that they threw themselves down on the
stubble in the fields, where the severe frost soon put an end to their
sufferings. The day we quitted Verdun the retreating French army from
Moscow, with numerous waggons full of their frostbitten and wounded men,
entered it. That and the allied army advancing on the French borders were
the cause of our being sent away with so much speed. When this division of
the enemy’s army marched through Verdun for the purpose of conquering
Russia, it was the general remark amongst the English that the appearance
of the men and their appointments could not be better in any country; but
to see them return in the extreme of wretchedness and suffering was truly
pitiable. Oh, Bonaparte! I charge thee fling away ambition; it is,
unfortunately for the world, thy besetting sin. It cannot continue for
ever, and you will be brought up with a severe round turn before you are
many years older—such is my prophecy.
We had not been settled at Blois a month before we had orders to quit it
and to proceed to Gueret on the river Creuse. We understood the allied
army having entered France was the cause of our removal.
As I had never heard of Gueret before, I requested my landlord to give me
some information respecting it. “Why,” said he, with a most awful shrug of
his shoulders, “it is where Louis the Fourteenth banished his _petite
noblesse_, and is now filled with lawyers, who, as the town is small and
the inhabitants are not numerous, go to law with each other to keep
themselves, I suppose, in practice. Oh, you will find the roads rough and
much out of order; we call it ‘_un chemin perdu_,’ and as the town is
insignificant, and produces nothing, we call it ‘_un endroit inconnu_.’ I
do not think,” added he, “there are more than _cinquante cheminées à feu_
in the whole town.”
This information did not raise my spirits. However, there was no
alternative, and it was of little use to be downhearted. The weather
continued very severe, and we had again to encounter frost, snow, and
intense cold. We prayed for the humane Emperor of France, and wished him
elevated on Haman’s gibbet. Our journey was most horrible and fatiguing;
the roads in some places were literally lost, and we were obliged to drive
over ploughed fields in order to avoid the deep ruts. I thought we should
have had all our bones dislocated. The five days we were on this wretched
road will never be effaced from my memory. We slept where we could. Inns
there were very few, and those few the abodes of poverty, filth, and rags.
The small farms sometimes took us in, where, whilst eating the coarse
brown bread and tough fowls they put before us, and for which they made us
pay most extravagantly, the pigs and poultry kept us company during our
repast.
One night, at one of these abominable places, I was obliged to lie on a
table, as they had not a bed to give me. I was awakened early by a most
horrible smell. I thought I should be suffocated. I procured a light and
inspected the room. On opening an old press I found several half-putrid
cheeses, full of jumping gentlemen, and probably ladies, for there was a
large assembly of them. I made my escape from this savoury, not
sweet-smelling den, and threw myself into what they called a chair, which,
from its form and ease must have been fabricated before the time of Adam.
I found I had seated myself before a kind of crib, something like a
corn-bin, in which was lying, fast asleep and snoring, the landlady, who
was a coarse, dingy beauty of about forty. “Lead me not into temptation
and deliver me from evil,” ejaculated I to myself. At this time a huge
cock that had been roosting in some part of the kitchen gave a loud crow.
She started up and called out “Oh, mon Dieu, je ne puis pas dormir à cause
de cette bête là!” I pretended to be asleep, although I made a loop-hole
with my left eye. A short time afterwards she was snoring as loud as
before.
When daylight began to break I went out into the yard, and was saluted by
the barking of a very large dog, who was chained to a small shed. This
roused all the inmates of the house. We had some milk and eggs, and once
more assumed our most agreeable journey. On entering Gueret, I verily
believe all the men, women, children and dogs came to meet us. I do not
know what they thought of us. We appeared, I thought, like a set of wild
men in search of a more civilised country than that whence they came. It
was soon understood we wanted lodgings, and the importunity of the females
was most embarrassing. I took up my abode over a small grocer’s shop. The
only room I could obtain, which contained a small bed, a minikin table,
and two common chairs, cost me fifty francs a month, (about two pounds
sterling), and I was considered fortunate in having such good lodgings. I
sometimes dined at the principal inn, where I met the _élite_ of the town,
such as bankers and half broken-down noblemen who had been pigeoned by
their dearly-beloved Napoleon. One day at dinner I overheard a
conversation between two of these last, one of whom wished, if he could
find two officers among us who preferred living in the country, to have
them as lodgers. I seized the opportunity of introducing myself to them
when we rose from table. An officer in one of our regiments offered
himself as the other inmate.
We were mutually satisfied with each other, and two days afterwards I
obtained leave from the French commandant to remove to Masignon, about
four leagues from Gueret. On reaching the village I was directed to a
large _château_ with two embattled towers. I was much pleased with its
romantic appearance, but more so with its amiable inmates, which consisted
of the Dowager Countess de Barton, the count, her son, and the two young
countesses, her daughters, the eldest in her twenty-fourth and the
youngest in her twenty-second year.
There were seven saddle horses and a carriage, all of which were at our
service, and I had a chamberlain to attend on me. The domain was very
extensive. We had the privilege of shooting and fishing, and I found
myself as comfortable as I could possibly wish, and I much regretted I was
deprived of the happiness of seeing my wife and dear children in such
distinguished and amiable society.
One evening as we were all sitting in the large drawing room, it suddenly
appeared to be going on one side, and immediately after we were much
alarmed by a roaring noise like the flame in a chimney when on fire. I
attempted to move and nearly fell.
This was occasioned by the shock of an earthquake. During the anxious
suspense we were in, the servants had rushed into the room with horror in
their countenances, exclaiming, “Oh, mesdames, le château va tomber, et
nous serons écrasées!”
“Peace,” said the elder countess; “remain where you are.” By the time she
had spoken the trembling ceased, nor had we another shock. After a short
interval we resumed our conversation as if nothing had occurred.
This part of France is much infested with wolves, and I frequently in the
night heard them near the house, but I only saw one of them in the day. I
fired at him, but as he was at some distance, he escaped without injury.
I had resided with this amiable family nearly a month, when one of the
servants who had been to Gueret entered nearly out of breath to say that,
“La belle France était prise!” At the same time he handed a small printed
paper to the mother countess.
She smiled at the idea of the servant’s report, and turning to me she
said, “I am rejoiced to be the first to announce to you that you are no
longer in captivity. The allied armies have taken Paris and Bonaparte has
abdicated. This is the ‘Gazette,’ I am happy to see once more decorated
with the _Fleur de Lys_.”
I kissed her hand for the intelligence, and assured her although the
joyful news was everything I wished, I should much regret quitting her
family, where, during my short stay, I could not have experienced more
affection and kindness from my own relations than she had shown to me.
On the second day after this delightful intelligence, I took an
affectionate leave of the ladies. The count was absent.
At Gueret I joined the same party who had been my companions in misery and
fatigue. Our nags had been well taken care of, and the nine hundred and
ninety-ninth cousin of the brave, but unfortunate, Bruce deserved praise.
I will not describe our tiresome and wretched journey of nine days. At
length we reached Fontainebleau, where we remained two days to rest
ourselves as well as the horses. In passing through its forest, which is
very fine, we were almost poisoned by the stench occasioned by dead men
and horses. We saw the palace, and the ink on the table where Bonaparte
had signed his abdication was so fresh that it came off by rubbing it a
little with the finger.
Two days after we entered Paris, which we found in possession of the
allied armies, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we procured
lodgings even in the Faubourg St. Antoine. They were at the top of the
house, only five stories and an entresol to mount! and alarmingly dear as
well as dirty and small. We sold our stud and carriage for a little more
than we gave for them.
During the three days we remained in Paris, I visited the Louvre and its
stolen goods. It was a brilliant treat; never was any palace so decorated
with such gems of art, nor, I hope, under the same circumstances, ever
will be again. On the day Louis le Désiré entered, I paid a napoleon for
half a window in the Rue St. Denis to view the procession.
Nearly opposite the window the King halted to receive the address from the
Moulins and Poissardes, some of whom appeared to me drunk. A child dressed
like a cupid, with a chaplet of flowers in its hand, was handed to the
Duchess d’Angoulême, who sat on the left hand of the King. I remarked she
was much confused and scarcely knew what to do with the child, who was
about five years of age, and who put the chaplet on her head. At length
she kissed it and returned it to its mother.
The windows of the houses were dressed with pieces of tapestry and white
flags, which appeared to my view nothing more than sheets and
table-cloths. The Garde Nationale lined the streets, and by the
acclamations of, “Vive Louis le Dix-huit, Louis le Désiré, les Bourbons!”
and other cries, all foreigners who had never visited France or conversed
with its natives, would have exclaimed, “Look at these loyal people; how
they love the Bourbon dynasty!”
The mounted National Guard who came after the royal carriage out-Heroded
Herod by their deafening cries of loyalty. Who would have imagined these
gentlemen would have played the harlequin and receive their dethroned
Emperor as they did when he entered Paris again? “Put not your trust in
men, particularly Frenchmen in 1814, O ye house of Bourbon, for they made
ye march out of France without beat of drum.”
[Illustration: THE ENTRY OF THE ALLIES INTO PARIS BY THE PORTE ST. MARTIN,
MARCH 31, 1814.]
I was much amused with the conduct of the Imperial Guard who followed the
national heroes. The Poissardes cried out, “Vive le Garde Impériale!” All
they uttered was “Vive les Poissardes!” They looked as black as thunder.
I understood there was a cause of dissatisfaction among them in
consequence of a mark of distinction having been given to the shop-keeping
soldiers and not any to them. This was the Comte d’Artois’ clever policy;
at least, so I was informed by my companion who had taken the other half
of the window where we stood. My thoughts were seven fathoms deep.