Inns on the road, four days and four nights, about 200
------
_£._ 540
This, at 40 livres per guinea, amounts to thirteen guineas and a half;
to which must be added, for the hire of the two chaises to Paris, three
_Louis_ in money, adequate to three pounds sterling, which altogether
does not amount to four guineas each person, travelling post above two
hundred miles, and faring sumptuously on the road, drinking Burgundy and
Champagne, and being as well received at the inns as if the expences had
been quadrupled. One hot meal a day, at three _livres_ a head, one
_livre_ for each bed, and the wine paid for apart, was the customary
allowance. After this manner I have travelled several times all over
France, to _Bourdeaux_, _Toulouse_, _Montpelier_, _Marseille_, _Toulon_,
_Hieres_, _Avignon_, _Lyon_, _&c._
Had the exchange been at par, the expence would have been doubled, in
English money; but even then would have been very reasonable, compared
to the cost of a similar journey in England.
At Paris I received 42 livres 15 sous for each guinea; soon after which
I was paid forty-two livres for every pound sterling which I drew on
London: on my return to Calais I found the exchange to be forty-four
livres per guinea, and once it was as high as forty-nine. This, of
course, very much injures the trade between England and France; but, for
the same reason, English families residing in France at present, more
than double their income, by drawing bills on London for such income,
and it will probably be many years before the exchange will be at _par_
again.
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. CHESSMEN. TREE OF LIBERTY.
CRUCIFIXES,VIRGINS. SAINTS. BISHOPS. OLD WOMEN, &C.
THE whole way from Calais to Paris the land was in the highest state of
cultivation.
The sandy soil near the gates of Calais abounded with the _Chelidonium
Glaucium_, or common yellow horned poppy.
The first vines on this road are about a mile on this side of Breteuil.
Between St. Just and Clermont is a magnificent _château_ and garden
belonging to the _ci-devant Duc de Fitzjames_: this seat has never been
described; it is not shewn to strangers at present, as the proprietor is
emigrated.
The country all around Chantilly, consists of cornfields; formerly it
appeared barren, because the immense quantity of game which infested and
over-ran it devoured all the crops and ruined the farmers, who were sent
to the gallies if they shot a bird.
I passed this way in 1783 and 1784, and saw vast numbers of pheasants,
partridges, and hares cross the road, and feed by the side of it, as
tame as poultry in a farm-yard; but at present the game is all
destroyed; neither are there any more wild boars in the forest, which is
of 7600 acres. These animals still inhabit the forest of
_Fontainebleau_. This forest (which covers almost four times as much
ground as that of _Chantilly_)[2] contains a greater number of trees, of
a more enormous size, than I have seen in any other part of Europe,
growing amongst rocks and stones equally remarkable for their
dimensions. I know not of any parallel to the _sublime-beautiful_, and
to the wild and romantic grandeur of the scenery here displayed. The
landscapes of _Salvator Rosa_ appear to have been taken from natural
objects, similar to those which are here seen. It is only forty miles
from Paris.
[Note 2: It is about five square miles, or rather, eight miles in
length from two to four miles in breadth.]
In the treasury of the Abbey at _St. Denis_ were formerly preserved the
Chess-men of _Charlemagne_; these I described in the first volume of
_Chess_, published in 1787; they are now either _stolen or strayed_, and
will probably never more be heard of.
All the horses (many of which were stone-horses) we had occasion to make
use of along this road were very gentle, and so were the cattle which
were feeding on the grass growing on the borders of the cornfields,
(without any inclosure) which they were prevented from entering by a
string tied to their horns, one end of which was sometimes held by a
child of five or six years old. The people here are very merciful and
kind to their beasts. I have seen droves of oxen walking leisurely
through the green markets in the cities, smelling at the vegetables, and
driven to the slaughter-house by children. There are no instances here
of mad oxen, mad dogs, or run-away horses.
In every one of the towns between Calais and Paris a full-grown tree
(generally a poplar) has been planted in the market-place, with many of
its boughs and leaves; these last being withered, it makes but a dismal
appearance; on the top of this tree or pole is a red woollen or cotton
night-cap, which is called the _Cap of Liberty_, with streamers about
the pole, of red, blue and white ribbands.
I saw several statues of saints, both within and without the churches
(and in Paris likewise) with similar caps, and several crucifixes with
the national cockade of ribbands tied to the left arm of the image on
the cross, but not one with the cockade in its proper place; the reason
of which I know not.
I was both surprised and sorry to see the wooden images, many of them as
large as the life, on crosses, painted with the natural colours, to the
amount of perhaps twenty between _Calais_ and _Paris_, still suffered to
remain nuisances on the side of the road. The _perpendicular_ of each
cross being seasoned, by having been exposed many years to the open air,
might make a couple of excellent pike staves;[3] but the remainder
would, as far as I know, be of no other use than for fuel.
[Note 3: This was written after I had become familiarized to pikes.]
Another absurdity which has not been attended to as yet is, that most of
the almanacks, even that which is prefixed to Mr. _Rabaut's_ Account of
the Revolution, contains against every day in the year, the name of some
saint or other, male or female; some of them martyrs, and others not,
others archangels, angels, arch-bishops, bishops, popes, and virgins, to
the number of twenty-four, and of these, four were martyrs into the
bargain; and this at a time when churches are selling by auction and
pulling down, when the convents are turned into barracks, when there is
neither monk nor nun to be seen in the kingdom, nor yet any _Abbe_, and
when no priest dares appear in any sacerdotal garment, or even with any
thing which might mark him as an ecclesiastic. It must however be
acknowledged, that the saints have lost all their credit in France, and
of course so have the _Bienheureux_, or _Blessed_. In order to arrive at
saint-hood, the candidate must first have died _en odeur de Sainteté_,
which, were it not too ludicrous, might be translated _smelling of
holiness_; he was then created a _Bienheureux_, and after he had been
dead a century, the pope might canonize him if he pleased; after which
he, the saint, might work miracles if he could, or let it alone.
France formerly contained eighteen arch-bishopricks, and one hundred and
thirteen bishopricks; the _Arch ones_ are all abolished, and likewise
forty-seven of the others; there are, however, plenty remaining, no less
than seventy-three, which includes seven new ones, and one in _Corsica_.
The churches in Paris are not much frequented on the week days, at
present; I found a few old women on their knees in some of them, hearing
mass; and, at the same time, at the other end of one of these churches
commissaries were sitting and entering the names of volunteers for the
army.
The iron rails in the churches which part the choir from the nave, and
also those which encompass chapels and tombs, are all ordered to be
converted into heads for pikes.
On Sundays, before the 19th of August, the churches were still resorted
to, but by no means crowded; I know not whether this be the case now.
All the _jours de fête_, holidays, are very judiciously abolished, and
likewise _les jours gras, et maigres_, (Flesh and meagre days.)
All shops are allowed to be open, and every trade carried on on Sundays,
notwithstanding which, few are open excepting those where provisions are
sold; the inhabitants choosing to have one day's relaxation in seven, to
take a little fresh air, and to appear well dressed.