CHAP. XI.

I found a very good drawing-master at Avignon, an eleve of David, one

who had studied in Italy, an intelligent man; his conversation pleased

and instructed me. I had much difficulty to meet with a master of the

French language: no one here wanted to learn French; they were contented

with such as they talked: there was no demand for institutors in this

branch of education. At last I found a professor of the royal college,

an ingenious man, but utterly unpractised in the art of teaching French,

which he might suppose "came by nature;" and being besides unacquainted

with English, he was unable to explain to his scholars of my family, any

rules of grammar, whether general or particular. That I may dismiss him

with honour in this my mention of him, I will recite an epigram of his

composition at the beginning of the Revolution:

O liberte cherie! en vain je te poursuis:

Par tout je vois ton arbre, et nulle part tes fruits.[50]

Of dancing-masters and music-masters I need not speak; their art is at

the end of their fingers or of their toes. I had some trouble in

managing the temper of the professor of the first of these arts, who was

a Gascon; and the natural pride of the professor of music, who was a

noble: but, by the help of some tact united with good-will, I obtained

my end, which was, that they should depart contented. The climate did

not permit dancing lessons to be taken, except in the winter.

I do not advise any one, habituated to the climate of England, and in

good health, to come abroad for the sake of climate. Charles II. was

certainly right when he said, one may in England be out of doors more

days in the year, and more hours in the day, than in any other country.

I quoted this saying to a friend, who replied, "Mais c'est toujours en

souffrant;"[51] and, being accustomed to heat, he reckoned all suffering

from that cause as nothing: he had been in England, and recollected how

his nose was bitten, and his fingers benumbed by the frost. A friend at

Avignon called on me in the middle of the day, having crept along the

shady side of the streets. It is there the custom in summer to keep the

windows shut during the heat of the day. I complained to my visitant

of this practice, as depriving one of air when gasping for it. "Mais

que voulez-vous? l'air est en feu."[52] I put the thermometer out at

a north window, and it rose two degrees. During the greatest heat of

the hot summer of 1820, I observed the thermometer pretty regularly

at midnight, and found it to stand at 80 Fahrenheit.

One may rise early, and enjoy the coolness of the morning: true; but for

this end it is necessary to go to bed early, and be deprived of the

coolness of the evening. I knew, however, one man who had the good-sense

and resolution to dispose of his day during summer in the following

manner: he went to bed at midnight, rose at four in the morning, took

his exercise, transacted his affairs, eat his dejeune a la fourchette,

as may be supposed, with a good appetite, and went to bed again at

mid-day: at four p. m. he rose again, made his toilette, eat his dinner,

and went into society, till the end of the second of the two days which

he thus contrived to form out of twenty-four hours. I have been told

that such is the practice of the English in the East Indies.

The plague of bugs may be avoided by care and cleanliness: the defence

against gnats is a gause net surrounding the bed; but wo be to those who

find one or more gnats enclosed within the net itself, as happens not

unfrequently from the carelessness of the femme de chambre: the hum of

the insect, and the dread of his attack, deprive you of sleep: there is

no remedy but to wait till he settles upon the face; and then, while he

is busy with his first bite, with an expectant and prepared hand to

crush him. Flies are also very troublesome in these envied regions of

the south; but flies are not like those Cassiuses, the gnats;--"they

sleep o'nights."

The _bise_ or north wind, coming from the frozen Alps, following the

course of the Rhone, and spreading wide to right and left, is very

delightful and refreshing during the summer at Avignon: but, in the

winter, it penetrates even to the marrow of the bones, and sometimes,

for several days together, blows with such violence, that people are

afraid to walk the streets, lest they should be knocked on the head by

falling tiles or chimneys. This _bise_ is supposed to render the climate

healthy: the Avignonais have a proverb:--"Avenio ventosa; si ventosa,

fastidiosa; si non ventosa, venenosa." How far it is "venenosa," I have

but too much reason to know.

The Rhone is sometimes frozen over at Avignon: I have seen people walk

across it on the ice. The cold during part of the winter is sometimes

greater than that of Paris; and I have seen the cold of the _hyver

moyen_[53] of Paris marked, on a French thermometer, as two degrees of

Reaumur lower, that is stronger, than the cold of the _hyver moyen_ of

London. All the world knows that in summer it is much hotter at Paris

than at London: the vine bears witness to it; but both heat and cold are

tempered to England by passing over the sea.

To sum up all that I have to say at present on the subject of climate, I

believe lat. 45, half way between the pole and the equator, to be, all

other circumstances being equal, the best of the climes that are

"mortalibus aegris Munere concessae Divom." Habit reconciles both to cold

and heat. One consideration may not be unimportant to families that wish

to economize: cold is costly. Returning into France from Italy, I find

the difference between the rent of a house in Naples and that of a house

in a country town, to be filled up by the expense of firing; and, at the

beginning of my first winter, am almost ruined in manteaus, great coats,

pelisses, blankets, and other flannels.

A country town in France is better supplied with society than a country

town in England, inasmuch as the French country gentry do not disdain to

live in a country town. All of them have an hotel, an apartment, or at

least a _pied a terre_, as they called it, in the largest country town

in their neighbourhood, and resort thither during the winter. From the

time of the wheat harvest, which in the south is towards the end of

June, till the time for planting is ended, they not only live, but are

very busy in the country. The practice of letting land for the half of

the produce compels them to be on the spot to take charge of their own

share: but, in bad weather, and during the long evenings, they seek

shelter in the town. Here the members of the ancient noblesse, now

without fortune, without privilege, still viewed by the many with

sentiments of political dislike,--maintain their superiority over men,

their equals in moral honesty, more wealthy and better instructed than

themselves. And how do they maintain it? By manners. It is admirable to

see with what grace and ease, without arrogating any thing to themselves

or derogating from others, without art or design,--they assert their

dignity, and contrive that it be recognised by those with whom they

have to do. Some of those who have not the advantage, if such it may be

called, of noble birth, endeavour to imitate, while others affect to

despise, these manners, which throw such a charm over society; but it is

impossible to despise, and very difficult to imitate them: they seem to

result from an early, an almost perpetual consciousness of

self-importance, corrected by a constant intercourse with others

entitled to equal respect and deference. The manners of military men,

more frank, and open, and manly than those of the noblesse, want the

polish attained by the latter: for military men, while they derive

confidence from the glory of their profession, are chiefly conversant

with those whom they command or obey. "The depot of good manners is to

be found with the nobles of ancient families," said one of them to me.

Before the revolution there were in France twenty-seven thousand

families of the noblesse. By the charte the nobles of imperial creation

preserve their titles, the ancient nobles resume theirs. Of titles,

however, very little use is made in conversation; the little particle

_de_ answers all demands of noble self-love; and even a Duc or Duchesse

is contented to be addressed, in familiar parlance, as Monsieur de ----

or Madame de ----. This little particle _de_ multiplies itself with

astonishing rapidity, like the English addition Esq.; and the act by

which it is assumed is no more contested in France, than that which,

with us, niches a man of merit between knight and gentleman. Three or

four _de_ were brought into the world at Avignon, during my stay there.

What shows the practice of unauthorised assumption of the _de_ to be by

no means so novel as its censurers pretended, is, that I found the _de_

sometimes to precede names which signified trades: of these there are

many in all countries; whereas the _de_ ought only to indicate the

_terre_, or estate, like the d'Igby of my maternal ancestors, and can

with propriety be used for no other purpose.

But the ambition of nominal distinction was not always thus cheaply to

be gratified, if I may believe the feeling lament of an old noble, that

is a noble of old family, "Such an one fancies, some fine morning, that

he is a count or marquis: he calls himself so: the world laughs."--"But

the title passes current?" A shrug of the shoulders gave me to

understand that the subject was too distressing to be further pursued. O

chivalry, thou act fallen on grievous,--on money-loving times!

The title of Baronet is insignificant, having its origin too in a paltry

sum of money paid to a needy king. The list (for it is not an order,)

contains names that do honour to it: yet I heard in my youth a young man

of one of the first families in Ireland, afterwards Marquess of ----,

talk peevishly of "a parcel of d----d baronets." In endeavouring to be

superior to their equals, or equal to their superiors, they undertake a

task which must make them unacceptable to both parties. The ancient

noblesse of France has neither feudal rights nor political power; but it

has its origin in what may be called the heroic ages of Europe: the

peerage of France must look up to the nobles with respect; and the

people, that it may honour them, asks only to rank them among its

friends.

It is a pity that the nobles should be generally reproached with want of

instruction: many of them plead in excuse that they are _enfans de la

revolution_, born at a time when their education was of necessity

neglected. I mentioned this excuse to an avocat. "Bah! they well know

that their fathers were as ignorant as themselves." The avocat's

argument was not conclusive; the nobles of the present day might, but

for the unsettled time of their youth, have partaken of the gradual

improvement in knowledge which pervades all classes; and the remark,

"je suis meilleur gentilhomme que mon pere, parceque j'ai une generation

de plus,"[54] might have applied to other advantages than that of

counting one generation more. The French nobles have now no longer that

which, according to Juvenal, makes ignorance tolerable: let us hope they

will avail themselves of their diminished wealth to acquire that

learning, which, according to the proverb, though I do not believe it,

is better than house and land.

The practice of letting farms to a _metayer_, who retains a share of the

produce, and pays his rent with the remainder, is resorted to and

continued from necessity. The farmer has not capital enough to stock a

farm. If the proprietor, after having made the necessary advances for

the occupation of the land, were to let the whole for a money rent, the

farmer would soon be in arrears, and would end by running away.

_Metairie_ I suppose to be derived from the Italian _meta_, which

signifies _half_. The landlord's share is however not always in this

proportion: on fertile soils, and on account of rich products, he

receives more than where more labour is required to reap an equal

or less benefit. I believe the half to be the minimum.

After having passed through nearly the whole length of Europe, with a

taste prepared by a youth passed, as Gibbon says, "in port and

prejudice;" and in the same college too, I venture to assert, that wine

is good in proportion as the country in which it is produced is near the

all-enlivening sun. The wine of Champagne, which cannot remain for a

minute and a half in the glass without growing flat; that of Burgundy,

which is hardly ever found but in an acid state; that of Bordeaux,

"claret for boys;"--not any one of these wines is to be compared (not

for strength only, but for flavour also,) to the wines of the Rhone and

of Provence. Such is my opinion: experto credat who will.

It may amuse my reader to learn that he may perhaps have been drinking

French wine, when he little suspected that it lay concealed in "humble

port." A trade, which in its first stage is not contraband, whatever it

may be in its second, is carried on between the French shores of the

Mediterranean and Portugal: wines are shipped off to Oporto, which, by

the help of brandy and other manipulation, become good port wine for the

London market.

I was told by a negociant, an intelligent man, not a wine-merchant,

that it was the wish of the wine-growers of France, that wine imported

into England should pay a duty _ad valorem_, on the price, not on the

quantity. He did not expect that the English government should be

content to receive a less amount of duty on the same quantity of wine,

the mean quality supposed the same: but he asserted that wines of

inferior quality, which could not be imported in the face of the duty

per gallon, would then find their way; that the consumption of wine

would be much increased; and the English government, as well as the

French wine-dealer and proprietor of vineyards, would both be benefited.

As fiscal regulations have spoiled our malt liquor, it would be but fair

to allow to those who are now ruining their health with rum and water,

the pleasure of drinking sometimes a bottle of small French wine. What?

A bottle of Burgundy at a farmer's ordinary? Gentlemen travellers

drinking claret? So much are men the slaves of habit, that the

supposition appears extravagant; and, after a twelvemonth, the thing

itself would be no more astonishing than it is now in France.

The French, who have seen the atmosphere of smoke in which London is

enveloped, and the sea-coal pouring its volumes of smoke up the

chimney, have disseminated throughout France a certain horror of coal

fires. There are, near Lyons, mines of coal of a quality superior to any

I have yet seen, like the Wednesbury, but better. I had some difficulty

in making the blacksmith comprehend what ought to be the form of such

machines as grate, poker, fender. "Things by their name I call;" though

to my blacksmith I was obliged to use every sort of periphrasis. _My_

poker was made with a hook at the end of it; the fender had a handle to

it; the bars of the grate were too small and too near each other. The

hook of the poker was soon straightened in the fire: of the fender

handle I was contented to declare, "il n'y a pas de mal a cela:"[55] as

the bars of my grate, though near, were not thick; they did not

intercept more heat than usual.

Taking the precaution to have a wood fire in my second salon, I ventured

to invite my friends to see my fire de charbon de terre. They were much

surprised and pleased. "Il n'y a pas de mauvaise odeur: ce feu se fait

respecter: quelle chaleur!"[56] The combined advantages of greater heat

and less cost, (for the coal fire was maintained at about half the

expense of a wood fire,) procured imitators. The general commanding

the department had a grate set up: the smith made it after his own

faulty model, declaring, no doubt, that it was _a l'Anglaise_: the

general was, however, well satisfied, telling me that the coal fire

warmed the three rooms of his apartment as well as a wood fire in each

and every one of them. The woods have been especially ravaged during an

aera of insecure possession; and fire-wood, always an expensive article,

is generally, throughout France, become dearer than formerly, except in

the neighbourhood of great forests.

I will endeavour to enable any one to judge how far it may be worth his

while to come to reside in France from motives of economy. With his

motives for being economical I have nothing to do: any one may be

economical at home who pleases; but it does not please some people to be

economical at home: others wish to have more for the same money. The

French are sometimes puzzled to make out why the English come abroad;

perhaps the English are sometimes equally puzzled themselves: but, with

reference to economy, sometimes the English seem to them to be

travelling for the sake of spending money; sometimes to be staying in

France for the purpose of saving it: the riches as well as the high

prices of England are exaggerated; the latter to a degree that would

make the riches to be merely nominal: then, the difference between

French and English prices is supposed to be so great, that the saving,

by living in France, must be enormous. Many English have, at first, no

clearer notions than the French on these subjects.

The price of almost every article, the produce of agricultural or

manufacturing industry, has been increased one-third, some say

two-fifths, in France since the beginning of the Revolution: the taxes

have been trebled. We know that, within the last thirty years, prices

and taxes have been augmented in England at about the same rates; so

that, on both sides of the water, the proportion has been preserved: but

the English knew very little of France during the war; whereas the

French knew England by their emigrants, who reported truly the high

prices then prevalent: thus some unsettled or erroneous opinions on

domestic economy may be accounted for. I left England while paper

currency was still in _force_, and before prices were lowered as since

they have been: my estimate must be corrected accordingly.

The result of between three and four years experience is, that about

one-sixth is saved by living, not in Paris, but in a provincial town in

France, or that a franc will go as far as a shilling. Set against this

saving the expenses of the journey, and the saving will not be great to

those who do not retrench in their mode of life, but live in France in

the same style as at home. The exchange on bills drawn on England may be

favourable; but some little money sticks in every hand through which

money passes, which balances this advantage.

House-rent is higher in France than in England; fuel much dearer: some

manufactured articles, as woollen cloth for coats, and linen or cotton

for shirts, are equally dear: colonial produce, as sugar and coffee, is

of a variable price, but not much cheaper: tea is cheaper, as the

Americans supply it, or England with a remission of the duty. But there

are no assessed taxes, no poor-rates: provisions I found to be cheaper

by about one-third than I had left them in England; and my younger

children, instead of small beer, with half a glass of wine each after

dinner, now drank wine, with discretion indeed, but at discretion. The

more numerous my family, the greater was the advantage to me of this

diminution of the daily expense of food.

Yet I calculate that at the end of forty-two months, including what the

journey to Avignon cost me, and the difference between the price at

which my furniture was bought, and that at which it was sold,--I had

spent, within one twentieth, as much as it would have cost me to live in

my county town in England with the the same establishment and in the

same manner. The smaller the income annually expended, the greater in

proportion will be the saving; because it is chiefly on the necessary

articles of living, that expense is spared; but a man of large, or even

of moderate fortune, will hardly think it worth his while to dwell many

years in a foreign country merely for the sake of saving five pounds in

a hundred. The less the distance to which he travels, and the longer his

stay; the more he becomes acquainted with the mode of dealing, and

learns what are just prices;--the greater proportionably will be the

savings of the economizing resident. A saving of five per cent is at

least not a loss. Wise men should not entertain extravagant

expectations, and prudent men should know what they are about to

undertake. Those who are neither wise nor prudent had better stay at

home: I do not write for such; but to give to family men such advice as

I found no one capable of giving me; but which, through much toil and

cost and peril, I had obtained the faculty of offering to others.

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