We drove out of the western gate of Avignon, and immediately turned to
the left hand. I said mentally, "Adieu, my dear son! may I and all this
family be reunited to thee in a better world." During the last six weeks
we had in some degree recovered from the terror and affliction of the
preceding period; but a final separation from him we so tenderly and
deservedly loved struck us with a feeling of depression, which we
endeavoured to surmount and disguise from each other lest the grief of
one should be the grief of all. "Are you well seated? do you feel any
cold?" and soon after, "How far is it to the bridge of the Durance?" by
such questions we tried in vain to conceal what the looks of all
betrayed. It was a relief to us to arrive at a country we had not yet
seen.
Antoine accompanied us: in the year 1813, the year following the
campaign of Moscow, being then of the age for military service, he had
been summoned to leave his native plains of Picardy to fight under the
banners of Napoleon in the campaign of Dresden. "Vous l'avez vu,
l'Empereur?" he was asked. "Oui."--"Ou donc?"--"Sur le champ de bataille
sans doute."[87] Antoine was one of those raw recruits, who, as Napoleon
declared, fought more bravely than any men he had ever seen to fight
during seventeen years, that he had commanded the armies of France.
After the battles of Lutzen and Bautzen, Antoine was taken prisoner by
the Austrians in an affair near Dresden, and sent into the interior of
their country. "Into what part of their country?" I inquired of him. "I
do not know." I, in my quality of inquisitive traveller, expressed
surprise at his want of curiosity, and asked the names of the principal
towns he had past through. "Obliged to climb great hills, loaded like a
mule, huddled with my comrades at night, into a grenier, I had something
else to do than to amuse myself with inquiring the names of towns: I do,
however, remember that one town we were taken to was called Pest." It
may be inferred that the hills he climbed were the Carpathian
mountains. If the English public should find that they are overwhelmed
by "Tours," and "Travels," and "France," and "Italy," they have nothing
to do but to send us all abroad with knapsacks on our backs. Fiat
experimentum. Antoine was headstrong and full of jests, but faithful,
honest, and attached. I think I pay him a great compliment when I say he
resembled in character a Milesian Irishman.
On account of our invalid, we were to travel by easy journeys: Aix was
too far off for one day. We slept at Orgon, the half-way house, an
ill-built inn, where we found good fires, good cooking, and good beds.
The next morning the frost had set in: I hurried the invalid into the
coach, and we turned our backs on the bise. Where we stopt at mid-day my
children began to show some little expansion of good spirits: it was
New-year's-day, and this calculation seemed to make the day different
from those that had gone before. Their attempts at renewed hilarity
manifested themselves in fantastical disputes about their repast. We had
taken tea and coffee in the morning: I required a repetition of it: some
disliked the same thing over again; some wanted fruit and their usual
mid-day dessert; others "would have a dejeune a la fourchette." It
ended by ordering all that was asked for by all.
At Orgon we passed through a room of the inn, of which the windows were
broken. The door of our room could neither be shut nor opened without
trouble and loss of time: such are "the miseries of human life" in a
fine climate: in England these inconveniences would not be endured for
an hour in the winter: the glazier would be sent for in case of a broken
pane as surely as water would be called for if the house were on fire. I
have been assured that, if one could be contented to pass the winter
without stirring out of doors, he would feel less cold at St.
Petersburgh than any where else in Europe. Where nature does least for
man, man does most for himself. Ananas or pine-apples are reared at
Archangel: I saw none in the south of France or Tuscany. Our anomalous
repast detained us too long, and it was almost dark when we arrived, at
five o'clock, at a handsome, palace-like-looking inn, on the Corso at
Aix.
It is a pleasant, airy, well-built town, so surrounded by hills, that,
in our walks next morning, we felt no cold. I expected to find hot baths
here, but was somewhat surprised to see a great basin of hot water in
the Corso, at which, as well as at other fountains in different parts of
the town, the washer-women ply their trade without the expense of fuel:
clean linen may here be called, by a perverted application of Burke's
phrase, "the unbought grace of life." The public baths are not so
convenient nor on so large a scale as I expected. We took a cursory view
of Roman remains of Aquae Sextiae. To the cathedral, a fine old structure,
is annexed a curious and perfect ancient temple which serves as the
baptistery.
In the afternoon of this day we proceeded to Marseilles. I drove to the
Hotel Beauveau: they showed me two handsome salons, one of them with two
beds in it: I wanted more beds in the other salon, which they promised
to put up: I doubted what sort of beds these might be, and, in an
unlucky moment of distrust, went away to the Hotel des Empereurs. Every
thing at the Hotel Beauveau bespoke civility and good management; at the
Hotel des Empereurs every thing was quite the reverse. I had intended to
pass a week at Marseilles: the badness of this inn determined me to stay
but one whole day. That day was excessively cold; the bise had followed
us, and had established itself in full force: I trembled for my
invalid; he was in high spirits, and would not stay within doors; he
was in the right, for it would have been impossible to make the
atmosphere within doors warmer than it was without, unless we had made
fires of all the fine pieces of mahogany furniture which garnished our
apartment.
I endeavour to make my accounts of towns and objects of curiosity ample
enough for those who are not acquainted with them, and not too long for
those who are: I may fail of both the ends proposed; a common result of
_mean_ measures: but I proceed, though I well know that a writer more
frequently meets with censure than indulgence: if self-love prompts him
to write, woe be to the poor author. My motive for writing may perhaps
by this time be guessed at, and will form an item of additional
reproach.
Marseilles, except that it is built of stone, (a circumstance hardly
necessary to be particularized in a country where bricks are almost
unknown,) is very like Liverpool, a _nucleus_ of trade and dirt,
surrounded by handsome, airy, well-built streets: it is more populous
than Liverpool, but does not cover so much ground. The port is admirably
secure: a few days before our arrival, a tremendous storm had committed
very great ravages along the whole coast from Spain to the gulf of
Spezia. The shipping in the harbour of Marseilles had continued
perfectly sheltered and unhurt, while, on the Genoese coast, vessels had
been driven from their anchors, and stranded. On one side of the port
are lofty warehouses; on the other, rich and splendid shops. The Hotel
de Ville is a very handsome building, with a magnificent marble
staircase, too grand indeed for the rooms to which it leads. The
celebrated picture of the plague seems to have derived its fame from the
interest excited by its subject: it is well executed, but without
perspective; the people are dying all up the wall of canvass; the
archbishop, M. de Belzunce, is, of course, a prominent object. His
nephew, chief of the department for provisioning Paris, was, at the
beginning of the revolution, the first victim of the fury of the
Parisian mob, and "Belzuncer quelqu'un," was for some little time a
favourite form of menace, or of boast; but the name was soon lost in a
crowd of followers. They showed us, what they thought it would give us
great amusement to see, the room in which is performed the civil
contract of marriage before the municipality: what pleasure they
expected us to derive from the sight I cannot tell. In another room is a
portrait of Louis XIV at full length, in armour, with a fine flowing
wig: this costume did not then appear so absurd as now it does; besides
his wig was, to Louis XIV, essential and individual; he never was seen
without it; at night he gave it to his page, in the morning he received
it from his page, through the curtains of his bed. An academy of
painting and sculpture had lately been instituted, which seemed
prosperous; as much so as such an institution is likely to be in any
other town than the capital. More attention seems to be paid in France
to the fine arts than to literature. The members of the five hundred
book-clubs of England will be surprised to learn that, as far as my
information reaches, no similar establishment exists in France.
We were told, as usual in such cases, of other objects of curiosity; but
some were too distant. Of those which we had visited, some had not been
worth the pains, and we feared that others might disappoint us equally.
We had put off hunger by eating some excellent confectionary, but our
dinner was ordered to be ready as soon as it should be dark, and the
mistress of the Empereurs,--there is no scandal in the title; she was
not such for her beauty. In plain English, our landlady, had promised us
a good dinner to make amends for the bad one of the day before, for
which she had offered an excuse, which I had rejected as unworthy of a
great inn in a great city,--that she was not prepared. We now hoped to
benefit by her preparations. The fish was excellent, thanks to the sea
at hand: the meat, had it made part of our hesternal meal, would not
have advanced so near to putridity: besides, it was raw. Say what you
will, you cannot persuade a foreign cook but that the English like raw
meat; so that we were obliged to accept it as a mark of deference to our
national taste. The fowls--this day there had been time to search the
market for the worst. A dish of douceur followed, which made me regret
the batter pudding and Lincolnshire dip, composed of coarse sugar,
melted butter, and vinegar, which I had enjoyed when a school-boy. The
wine was sour; they told me it was _vin ordinaire_; I asked for some
_extraordinaire_; it was extraordinarily bad: it is good logic in this
case, as well as in others, to argue from universals to particulars.
Indeed, it is as rare to meet with good wine at an inn in France, as at
an inn in England; in which latter country, as a Frenchman told me, they
got drunk with "vins etrangers."[88] On this occasion, I _blinked_ the
question of English ebriety, by saying that if they got drunk with
wine, they must do so with "vin etranger," as they had none of their
own: but foreign wine is as much a luxury in France as if that country
was not under the patronage of the jolly god.
At the Hotel des Empereurs,--for, notwithstanding this digression, I am,
to my sorrow, still there,--I asked in the evening for pen and ink: they
brought me a pen and some ink in a little phial, with an intimation that
it cost three sous.
My reader will, I hope, do me the justice to observe that I have arrived
at the shores of the Mediterranean without having made any complaint in
detail of grievances endured at any inn. I flatter myself that I am in
this respect a singular instance of patience and moderation. I have been
desirous of giving one example of my talent in this way, and promise
henceforward to forbear. Cuges was our next sleeping place, Toulon, like
Aix, being too far for a day's journey. Cuges is a little town with a
tolerable inn. Here the weather changed to rain; the air became mild,
and, for this season, we took leave of winter on the third of January.
We were now on the road to Toulon. I have travelled over the Highlands
of Scotland, over the hills of Derbyshire, and those which separate
Lancashire from the counties to the eastward of it; countries well worth
visiting by those who seek for the wonders of nature further from home;
but in this day's journey, all that I had before seen in the same kind
was exceeded. The picturesque rises into the romantic, and the romantic
into the savage. We passed through gullies, where the torrent-river that
ran by the side of the road seemed not merely to have formed, but to
have scooped out for itself a passage under rocks which, at a great
height above, overhung the road and the torrent, and threatened to fall
in and fill up the narrow space below. Day-light descended to us through
an irregular ragged fissure, which seemed as if broken through expressly
for the purpose, so nearly did this defile resemble an under-ground
passage. At last we emerged from clefts and chasms into an open space,
and had a view of Toulon before us. As we entered the town, we saw, in
some sheltered spots, orange-trees, in full bearing, in the open earth:
in the open air they are seen in Paris; planted in boxes, they bear
fruit at Avignon; here they are children of the soil.
We were pleased with Toulon, and loitered here two whole days. The town,
though a fortress, is a pretty and a cheerful-looking place. The
streams of water conducted through the streets, give it an air of
healthiness and cleanliness. In the evening we braved on the promenade
the cannon of the fortifications, and, our love of science being equal
to our courage, visited the botanical garden, very wisely provided here
by the government: it is much smaller than that of Paris; but, by the
help of the climate, surpasses it in the possession of rare exotics.
Some traveller (I think Eustace,) says that palm-trees are not to be
found in the open air any where to the north of Rome, and that at Rome
there are but two, remarkably placed on a hill visible to the whole
city: these two I saw not, and I saw palm-trees in the botanical garden
at Toulon.
The next day was Sunday: it was passed in viewing the town and its
immediate environs, and in pour-parleys about a visit to the arsenal: a
ticket for this purpose was offered on condition that we should pass
ourselves for French. Besides the disagreeable consequences that might
justly have followed the discovery of such an imposition, the trick
itself appeared to me dishonourable.
The next morning my convalescent, now rapidly recovering health and
strength, mounted the heights above Toulon, and, placing himself under
the shelter of a ruined building, sketched the scene before him. The
elevation gave us almost a bird's-eye view of Toulon and its ports:
islands or promontories that, on account of the winding of the shore,
looked like islands, were seen at a distance. Nothing ever called up to
my imagination and memory such a crowd of ideas and recollections, as
did the view of this great inland sea which washes the shores of Greece,
into which the waters of the Nile discharge themselves, and which
reposes at the foot of Lebanon and Carmel. We were at this time
Fill'd with ideas of fair Italy,
and it lay but a little on our left-hand. In a few months we shall be
there.
I had purposed to visit Hyeres, about six miles distant, but was
deterred by what was told me of the badness of the road: it is a winter
colony planted by the English, a sort of succursal to Nice. It has not
the advantage of being near the sea, but is at three miles from it. I
have met with those who have wintered there with much satisfaction. Many
lodging-houses had lately been _run up_ for visitants.
In the afternoon of the third day we left Toulon. The next day brought
us to the point where the cross-road from Toulon joins that which leads
directly from Aix to Nice. The inns were better, but the roads were
still bad. "It is not for want of money," said they; "government
supplies that in plenty; mais l'ingenieur donne a manger a l'inspecteur,
et tout est fini."[89] At Frejus I wished to take a hasty dinner, as we
had to pass the foret d'Estrelles: they kept me waiting for it two hours
and a half; in this time I might have examined the aqueducts and other
antiquities, which I saw only in passing. The aqueducts seemed more
ruined than those of Rome, but in other respects as like as one arch is
to another arch of the same span. The foret d'Estrelles exhibits all the
grandeur of the Alps united with all the beauty of cultivation, every
variety of prospect, hill and dale, and wood, and rock, and the distant
sea.
So much did we enjoy the scene before and around us, that we thought but
little of the danger that awaited us. A river was to be crossed before
we could reach Cannes; we had received some intimation that it was
probable the bridge was broken down by the swell occasioned by the
late rains: our coachman was well aware that the bridges of this
country were usually insecure; "When they tumble down," said he, "they
build them up again." On descending the foret d'Estrelles, which it had
taken us three hours to mount and to pass, certain information was given
us, that the bridge had been carried away; "but, if your horses are
stout, there will be no danger in fording the river." We had lost time
at Frejus, as always happens when time is wanted, or as is always then
observed to happen, and were too late by half an hour. It was so nearly
dark when we arrived at the river, that the coachman, following the
road, hardly perceived when he reached the place where the bridge had
been; the horses stopped however of themselves.
We got out of the carriage, while it was turned off the road, towards
the ford. At this moment Antoine launched some jest or other, which
provoked me to say, "Vous plaisantez tout a votre aise: vous etes
seul."--"Moi seul? Ai-je merite cela?"[90] He felt the reproach as
unjust, and so did I, and made my excuses; he admitted that his
pleasantry was unseasonable; and we proceeded to cross the ford, having
got some peasants to help us. My eldest daughter and I were in the
cabriolet, the rest of the family in the coach, Antoine on the
coachman's seat. The bank by which we went down into the river was not
steep; but, in ascending the opposite bank, I felt the carriage to be
balanced in such a way that I fully expected it to fall sideways before
it could get clear out of the water; it required all the force of
Antoine and the peasants, pulling at a rope tied to the carriage, to
prevent this, and keep it on all its wheels. It was a fearful moment. It
was not likely that any lives would be lost, so much help was at hand;
but what evil might be the consequence of an overthrow in the
water,--especially to one who had but just recovered from three months'
illness!
When we had got on solid ground and reached the road again, we found
large blocks of stone, for the reparation of the bridge, lying in the
way: we were again obliged to dismount and thread our way through the
midst of these as well as we could, while the carriage went over uneven
ground by the side of the road. The moon rose as we reached the inn at
Cannes, thankful to that good Providence which had delivered us from
danger. This danger was not in crossing the stream, for the waters had
abated since they had carried away the bridge, and did not come up to
the bottom of the coach: the bed of the river too was good road; a cart
came across just before we went in; but in climbing the steep bank, had
not Antoine, who had leaped from his seat over the horses' backs, and
the peasants who had waded through the river, held the rope very
steadily in the direction opposite to that to which the coach inclined,
it must inevitably have fallen. When the fore-wheels got on the bank, I
was so satisfied, though still alarmed, that I would almost have
compounded for an overturn on dry land; the coachman, however, who
conducted himself perfectly well, "as a man and a minister," had the
pleasure of saving from scaith and harm both his fare and equipage.
The sea dashed on the shore close under the windows of our apartment at
Cannes; we saw the reflection of the moon-light on the rippling waves;
the climate seemed still to improve; after mutual congratulation, and a
cheerful meal, we retired contentedly to rest.