Thirty English families, it was calculated, were settled, before the
Revolution, in Avignon and its territory. The grandson of James II. had
lived here for some time. I used to enter, with some little feeling of
Jacobitical enthusiasm, the house of the Marquise D. which he had
inhabited. The Pretender was accompanied by some who "thought his
pretensions well-founded:" others were attracted by the sort of court,
held here by the vice legate, and by the attentions which it was then
the usage of the court of Rome to pay to foreigners, particularly to the
English. It was convenient also that a war between England and France
did not affect a subject of the former country at Avignon. The
intercourse betwixt this city and Italy had caused more attention to be
paid to literature and the fine arts than is usual in provincial towns:
that these flourished here, the names of Vernet, Flechier, Poole, and
others bear honourable testimony.
Avignon was now become French, and as such, on a par with other French
towns. I chose it as a place in which to live for a few years, and
superintend the education of my children: it was in my way to Italy, my
ulterior object. I determined on the south of France on account of the
health of Mrs. ----, who, though subject to violent coughs, which had
more than once threatened her life, has not suffered from them since we
have been to the southward of Lyons.
But the wounds inflicted by the Revolution, and during the reign of
terror, were hardly stanched; the recollection of the evils they had
endured was still recent,--still afflicted the spirits of those who
formed the first class of society at Avignon. I have already mentioned
the feeling with which one of them expressed himself on this subject.
The most fortunate amongst them,--at least he told me he so considered
himself,--was the Marquis ----, who, after being obliged to fly and
absent himself for fifteen years, recovered his estate with the loss
only of the rents during those years. Almost every lady, at that time
old enough to have been an object of persecution, had been put in
prison, and there, with her companions, had discussed the question
whether the guillotine was an easy mode of death. One of them said to
me, "You see us _tristes_; but sometimes we forget ourselves, and then
_le caractere national perce_."[38]
In 1795, almost every large house in Avignon bore on its walls a
notice,--"Propriete nationale a vendre;"[39] and even houses not
confiscated, as well as other property, were sold to relieve the
immediate distress of their owners. A house, which I considered as the
best in the town, which had been but lately built at an expense of two
hundred thousand francs, was sold for thirty thousand to the father of
my banker: its noble proprietor gave as a reason for acceding to so
disproportionate a bargain, that his wife and daughter had nothing to
eat.
Great wealth was a crime as well as royalism or nobility. Two persons,
in authority at Avignon during the reign of terror, were making out a
list of emigrants: a third was present, who, having nothing else to do,
was holding the candle to the two municipal revolutionists. "Shall we
set _him_ down in the list?" whispered one of them to the other, meaning
the third, the candle-holder.--"Ce seroit un peu trop fort, puisqu'il
est present."[40]--"Qu' importe? il n'osera pas reclamer, et il est
riche."[41] Danton, who by the by, was minister of _justice_, said "La
revolution est une mine qu'il faut exploiter."[42]
A revolutionary tribunal held its permanent sitting at Orange, and every
day carts full of victims were sent off thither from Avignon. My friend
the Marquise ---- was then a child of six years old; a plan was laid to
take her in the cart and throw her into the Rhone by the way: she could
not be convicted of _incivisme_, but she was an heiress. The plot was
defeated by her _bonne_ or nurse-maid, who took care that the child
should be out of the way at the time of the departure of the cart.
The trials at Orange were the pleasantest scenes imaginable. "Tu n'es
pas royaliste? Tu n' as pas conspire contre l'etat?"[43] or some such
questions, in an ironical tone, decided the fate of the prisoner. "Voila
des hommes qui tranchent sur tout,"[44] said I to my narrator. He
forgave the pun.
An elderly woman,--her understanding childish through age, and who was
deaf withal,--was put in accusation with her son. "Tu as pleure la mort
du roi,"[45] said the judges to the mother, charging her also with
having put on mourning on the occasion. "O yes," said the old woman, "I
was very sorry for the king, poor, dear, good man; and I put on a black
silk apron and a black ribbon round my cap." The judges, seeing the
people inclined by this simplicity to a sentiment of compassion,
advanced to something more serious. "Tu as conspire contre l'etat."[46]
Here the son put himself forward: "Messieurs, do what you will with me;
but my mother--you see her imbecillity; she is deaf: how can she have
conspired against the state?" "Elle est sourde?" said the judge: "ecris,
greffier, qu'elle a conspire sourdement contre l'etat."[47] This pun is
not to be forgiven. Arrived at the place of execution, the mother,
seeing the assembled crowd, asked her son the meaning of it; whether it
was a fair, or some _fete_. He obtained as a favour from the
executioner, that his mother might be the first to suffer death.
A noble had a conversation with a man who, though known as one of the
chief assassins of that aera, lived quietly at Avignon. "I should imagine
that, since you have failed of your purpose, you must feel some regret
at having uselessly shed so much blood."--"Au contraire, our regret is
that we did not shed more: mais ce sera pour une autre fois."[48]
In expectation of this _autre fois_, some of the few nobles to whom any
wealth was left were making up a purse in readiness for a second
emigration:--let it be remembered this was in the year 1818. Others of
them lived economically, indifferent as to the consideration in which
they might be held after so many mortifications; or disgusted with the
law of equal partition of inheritance, which reduced all their children
to mediocrity of wealth,--an evil they wished to remedy by their
savings. I recollect, in passing, that I was well acquainted with a
noble, an aristocrat, who detested every act of the constituent
assembly, but thought this law of _partage_ perfectly just and
reasonable: he was a younger brother.
From all that has preceded, it will be inferred that the public mind at
Avignon was not in a state to abandon itself unreservedly to the
pleasures of society. Yet fetes were occasionally given; balls, with,
now and then, a petit souper, were not uncommon during carnival; and
every evening might be passed in company, in the salon of some lady who
had taken her day of the week for receiving. At these parties cards were
supplied, but paid for by those who used them, at a price which, though
moderate, covered the expense both of cards and wax candles. This
practice, pretty well established in England, was defended by the
example of the court, where it is permitted. We could not do better than
follow the practice of the court. Ordinarily no refreshments were given:
one conscientious lady, however, told her friends that her surplus
card-money enabled her to treat them with ices and petits gateaux. No
invitation was sent after the first notice, which was considered as good
so long as the weekly reception should continue.
Besides these reunions, to which all the acquaintance of the mistress of
the house were of course admitted, there were sometimes parties by
invitation, when the refreshments were sufficient and decorous. I
endeavoured to set the fashion of tea, and gave a _the_, as much in
conformity, as to the mode of it, with the notions of the country, as
my imagination could make it out. A large table, covered with a cloth as
at dinner time, bore upon it not only the tea equipage, with its usual
accompaniments of tartines and toast, but also fruits, and cakes, and an
immense round flat tart, showing preserve through a gridiron of pastry,
with wine and syrups for those whom tea would deprive of sleep. The
Marquise ---- followed my example, and gave a _the_, of which she
condescended to ask my opinion: I told her, that in order that the tea
should be good, it was indispensable that the water should be not only
hot, but boiling; excusing at the same time the boldness of my counsel,
on the ground that it was not obtruded, but demanded. She tried again,
and succeeded to admiration. Tea is now in pretty general use at evening
parties in the north of France.
While my elder children even were yet too young to bear their part in
soirees, I contented myself with entertaining, now and then, a few
Messieurs at dinner, after consulting a friend on the enterprise, with a
declaration that I could not invite ladies, as their taste would require
more research and delicacy of preparation than I could hope to arrive
at. He admitted the difficulty would be lessened by this restriction
however ungallant, and proceeded to tell me, that a dinner invariably
begins by soup and bouilli: as this latter however must be insipid if
the the soup is good, it is well to accompany it by a sausage, or some
high-tasted meat: then come the entremets, then the roti with its salad:
after which, said he, "tout naturellement on fait monter le
poisson."[49] Nothing could appear to me more unnatural than fish after
meat; but I was in such a complaisant disposition, that I agreed to
every thing. The douceurs terminate the repast, succeeded by the
dessert.
So many English travel in France, and so many write their travels, that
these matters are well known: the repetition may be endured as a part of
a family history; I speak of them with a due sense of their importance:
----------qualia vincant
Pythagoram, Anytique reum, doctumque Platona.
Having discovered what might be considered as a good French dinner, en
province, I set to work, not neglecting the improvements suggested by an
English education, by no means so useless, on this head, as the French
imagine.
It will be seen, that the arbitrary parts of a French dinner are the
made dishes and the sweets: the bouilli and roti are obligatory; the
former because you are hungry, the latter, lest you should still be so.
I approve of the order in which the fish appears, having seen many
persons choke themselves in England by eating of it with an appetite as
yet unsatiated. Even to the fried fish I ventured, contrary to usage, to
add a sauce, (in a sauce-boat be it well understood,) which those who
partook of it admitted to be an improvement. A stuffed turkey, with
sausage balls, was allowed to be better than a dry roti: a hare, with a
pudding and currant jelly, was declared to be delicious. I obtained
permission to serve the cheese, as a thing of mauvaise odeur, by itself,
recalling only the salad, instead of making it a part of the dessert. By
these means, and by the help of stuffed loins of mutton, roasted
tongues, or boiled, with but little flavour of salt, new college
puddings, and other unknown luxuries too tedious to mention, (a phrase I
ought to have employed long ago,) I have the patriotic consolation of
thinking that I gave a favourable idea of the English kitchen, which, in
defiance of popular opinion, I affirm to be better than the French,
though their artists in this line are superior. The chief differences
are, that the French make prepared and high-seasoned dishes of their
vegetables, and think it barbarous to eat them, au naturel, along with
their meat; and that they will not believe that their meat contains any
juice, or gravy, or flavour, till they have extracted it by culinary
process, and laid it beside the meat in the dish. Indeed their climate,
which provides for them so many excellent things, refuses them pasture
to fatten beef; but they have fine artificial grasses and hay: of every
other object of gourmandise, except fat beef, they have all that the
most voracious, or the most delicate appetite can demand.
An invitation to dinner is always taken au pied de la lettre; it never
trenches on the evening parties;--all retire immediately after coffee.
Nothing can be more easy than the entrance into society in a provincial
town in France: you have only to send billets of invitation, taking care
first to make a general visit to all whom you invite; which visit is
returned by those who mean to accept that or any future invitation. In
the second winter of my residence, we took an evening for weekly
reception, beginning by an invitation to a ball. Dancing was, for this
time, prevented by the arrival of the news of the death of King George
III. On occasion of another ball, I observed that those who, from
whatever reason, had been prevented from assisting at the ball, took
particular care to present themselves at the following weekly soiree,
when, as on other soirees, no refreshments were given, as we thought it
right to conform to the usage of the place. Indeed this mode of visiting
has its advantages: the visited is thus the obliged party; insomuch that
those, who themselves do not receive, make no scruple of repeating their
visits. Those who do thus receive, expect of course to be visited in
their turn.
It is perhaps in consequence of this mode of receiving, that the custom
is established, that the newly-arrived shall make the first _call_.
However agreeable it might be to a stranger to be invited to cards and
conversation only, the inhabitants of a town cannot know that it would
be agreeable, till they are, by implication, told so. One exception to
the rule confirms my opinion of its origin. The Duc--, who, in my first
winter, gave a ball every week, called on me to invite my family. The
rule was, nevertheless, so far observed, that the Duchesse did not call
till after we had accepted the invitation. The practice, from whatever
it may arise, is very embarrassing to the mauvaise honte of an
Englishman: this may easily be surmounted, when it is perceived that
the first visit is always considered as a polite attention.
But the only serious _social_ embarrassment I experienced, arose from my
imperfect use of the language: I had learned French when a boy; when I
left England I had long read it, almost as easily as English; arrived in
France, I found I had two studies to perform, two difficulties to
encounter; to make myself understood, and to understand: the first I
could do indifferently well; but I passed a twelvemonth in France before
I could understand what was said by the men, and two years before I
could understand what was said by the ladies. I found that not to
understand was more disadvantageous than not to be understood; since
those who endured my bad French with patience were, very naturally,
displeased on discovering that they had been throwing away their words
on one who could not fully comprehend their meaning. I seriously advise
every Englishman who purposes to establish his family for some years in
France, if he is not competent to follow a conversation in the language
of that country, to go thither first himself alone, and establish
himself for a few months in French society: he will thus make more
progress in a month, than afterwards, with his family, in a year: for
the frequent use of an old language indisposes the organs of speech to
the acquisition of a new one. The ears too require their lesson.
I will also repeat the counsel given to me by a friend, a _detenu_,
whose son, at the age of seventeen, spoke English like a foreigner; it
was, constantly to talk English in the family. Notwithstanding my exact
compliance with this advice, my youngest child, from having learned
three languages before entering her tenth year, speaks English less
perfectly than the others: she left England when but three years old,
and, a year after, said, somewhat boastingly, "J'ai oublie mon Anglois."
In truth, seven or eight years absence has produced in all the family
some little forgetfulness of our native tongue; nay, I fear that my
reader may find some Gallicisms in the writing of one, who did not quit
his native land till far advanced in the fiftieth year of his age.
No parent will be content that his children should forget their native
language: whether it may be necessary, in order to avoid this
inconvenience, to enjoin the use of it within the family, will depend on
circumstances, on the age of the children, on the length of the intended
stay or residence abroad. The means will, so far forth, hinder and
delay the attainment of the language of the country, without which both
improvement and amusement are utterly hopeless, as social intercourse is
impossible. The French are not the less impatient of bad French, on
account of the imperturbable politeness with which they hear it.