Mr. and Mrs. Edgeworth, with their daughters Maria and Charlotte,
travelled through the Low Countries--'a delightful tour,' Maria
writes--and at length reached Paris, where they spent the winter
1802-3. They soon got introductions, through the Abbe Morellet, into
that best circle of society, 'which was composed of all that
remained of the ancient men of letters, and of the most valuable of
the nobility; not of those who had accepted of places from
Buonaparte, nor yet of those emigrants who have been wittily and too
justly described as returning to France after the Revolution, sans
avoir rien appris, ou rien oublie.' . . . 'We felt,' Maria writes,
'the characteristic charms of Parisian conversation, the polish and
ease which in its best days distinguished it from that of any other
capital.
'During my father's former residence in France, at the time when he
was engaged in directing the works of the Rhone and Saone at Lyons,
as he mentions in his Memoirs, he wrote a treatise on the
construction of mills. He wished that D'Alembert should read it, to
verify the mathematical calculations, and for this purpose he had
put it into the hands of Morellet. D'Alembert approved of the essay;
and my father became advantageously known to Morellet as a man of
science, and as one who had gratuitously and honourably conducted a
useful work in France. His predominating taste thus continued, as in
former times, its influence, was still a connecting link between him
and old and new friends. On this and many other occasions he proved
the truth of what has been asserted, that no effort is ever lost:
his exertions at Lyons in 1772, after an interval of thirty years,
now becoming of unexpected advantage to him and to his family at
Paris. . . .
'In Paris there is an institution resembling our London Society of
Arts, La Societe d'Encouragement pour l'Industrie Nationale: of this
my father was made a member, and he presented to it the model of a
lock of his invention. In getting this executed, he became
acquainted with some of the working mechanics in Paris, and had an
opportunity of observing how differently work of this kind is
carried on there and in Birmingham. Instead of the assemblage of
artificers in manufactories, such as we see in Birmingham, each
artisan in Paris, working out his own purposes in his own domicile,
must in his time "play many parts," and among these many to which
he is incompetent, either from want of skill or want of practice: so
that, in fact, even supposing French artisans to be of equal ability
and industry with English competitors, they are at least a century
behind, by thus being precluded from all the miraculous advantages
of the division of labour. . . . 'My father had left England with a
strong desire to see Buonaparte, and had procured a letter from the
Lord Chamberlain (Lord Essex), and had applied to Lord Whitworth,
our Ambassador at Paris, who was to present him. But soon after our
arrival at Paris, he learned that Buonaparte was preparing the way
for becoming Emperor, contrary to the wishes and judgment of the
most enlightened part of the French nation. . . .
'My father could no longer consider Buonaparte as a great man,
abiding by his principles, and content with the true glory of being
the first citizen of a free people; but as one meditating
usurpation, and on the point of overturning, for the selfish love of
dominion, the liberty of France. With this impression, my father
declared that he would not go to the court of a usurper. He never
went to his levees, nor would he be presented to him.
'My father had not the presumption to imagine that in a cursory
view, during a slight tour, and a residence of four or five months
at Paris, he could become thoroughly acquainted with France.
Besides, his living chiefly with the select society which I have
described precluded the possibility of seeing much of what were
called les nouveaux riches.
'The few general observations he made on French society at this time
I shall mention. He observed that, among the families of the old
nobility, domestic happiness and virtue had much increased since the
Revolution, in consequence of the marriages which, after they lost
their wealth and rank, had been formed, not according to the usual
fashion of old French alliances, but from disinterested motives,
from the perception of the real suitability of tempers and
characters. The women of this class in general, withdrawn from
politics and political intrigue, were more domestic and
amiable. . . .
'With regard to literature, he observed that it had considerably
degenerated. For the good taste, wit, and polished style which had
characterised French literature before the Revolution there was no
longer any demand, and but few competent judges remained. The
talents of the nation had been forced by circumstances into
different directions. At one time, the hurry and necessity of the
passing moment had produced political pamphlets and slight works of
amusement, formed to catch the public revolutionary taste. At
another period, the contending parties, and the real want of freedom
in the country, had repressed literary efforts. Science, which
flourished independently of politics, and which was often useful and
essential to the rulers, had meanwhile been encouraged, and had
prospered. The discoveries and inventions of men of science showed
that the same positive quantity of talent existed in France as in
former times, though appearing in a new form.'
The charms of Paris and its society were rudely broken by Edgeworth
receiving one morning a visit from a police officer requiring him
immediately to attend at the Palais de Justice. Edgeworth was in bed
with a cold when this summons came. He writes to Miss Charlotte
Sneyd:--'My being ill was not a sufficient excuse; I got up and
dressed myself slowly, to gain time for thinking--drank one dish of
chocolate, ordered my carriage, and went with my exempt to the
Palais de Justice. There I was shown into a parlour, or rather a
guard-room, where a man like an under-officer was sitting at a desk.
In a few minutes I was desired to walk upstairs into a long narrow
room, in different parts of which ten or twelve clerks were sitting
at different tables. To one of these I was directed--he asked my
name, wrote it on a printed card, and demanding half a crown,
presented the card to me, telling me it was a passport. I told him I
did not want a passport; but he pressed it upon me, assuring me that
I had urgent necessity for it, as I must quit Paris immediately.
Then he pointed out to me another table, where another clerk was
pleased to place me in the most advantageous point of view for
taking my portrait, and he took my written portrait with great
solemnity, and this he copied into my passport. I begged to know who
was the principal person in the room, and to him I applied to learn
the cause of the whole proceeding. He coolly answered that if I
wanted to know I must apply to the Grand Juge. To the Grand Juge I
drove, and having waited till the number ninety-three was called,
the number of the ticket which had been given to me at the door, I
was admitted, and the Grand Juge most formally assured me that he
knew nothing of the affair, but that all I had to do was to obey. I
returned home, and, on examining my passport, found that I was
ordered to quit Paris in twenty-four hours. I went directly to our
Ambassador, Lord Whitworth, who lived at the extremity of the town:
he was ill--with difficulty I got at his secretary, Mr. Talbot, to
whom I pointed out that I applied to my Ambassador from a sense of
duty and politeness, before I would make any application to private
friends, though I believed that I had many in Paris who were willing
and able to assist me. The secretary went to the Ambassador, and in
half an hour wrote an official note to Talleyrand, to ask the why
and the wherefore. He advised me in the meantime to quit Paris, and
to go to some village near it--Passy or Versailles. Passy seemed
preferable, because it is the nearest to Paris--only a mile and a
half distant. Before I quitted Paris I made another attempt to
obtain some explanation from the Grand Juge. I could not see him, or
even his secretary, for a considerable time; and when at length the
secretary appeared, it was only to tell me that I could not see the
Grand Juge. "Cannot I write," said I, "to your Grand Juge?" He
answered hesitatingly, "Yes." A huissier took in my note, and
another excellent one from the friend who was with me, F. D. The
huissier returned presently, holding my papers out to me at arm's
length--"The Grand Juge knows nothing of this matter."
'I returned home, dined, ordered a carriage to be ready to take me
to Passy, wrote a letter to Buonaparte, stating my entire ignorance
of the cause of my deportation, and asserting that I was unconnected
with any political party. F. D. engaged that the letter should be
delivered; and Mrs. E. and Charlotte remaining to settle our affairs
at Paris, I set off for Passy with Maria, where my friend F. D. had
taken the best lodging he could find for me in the village. Madame
G. had offered me her country house at Passy; but though she pressed
that offer most kindly we would not accept of it, lest we should
compromise our friends. Another friend, Mons. de P, offered his
country house, but, for the same reason, this offer was declined. We
arrived at Passy about ten o'clock at night, and though a deporte, I
slept tolerably well. Before I was up, my friend Mons. de P. was
with me--breakfasted with us in our little oven of a parlour
--conversed two hours most agreeably. Our other friend, F. D, came
also before we had breakfasted, and just as I had mounted on a table
to paste some paper over certain deficiencies in the window, enter
M. P. and Le B------h.
'"Mon ami, ce n'est pas la peine!" cried they both at once, their
faces rayonnant de joie. "You need not give yourself so much
trouble; you will not stay here long. We have seen the Grand Juge,
and your detention arises from a mistake. It was supposed that you
are brother to the Abbe Edgeworth--we are to deliver a petition from
you, stating what your relationship to the Abbe really is. This
shall be backed by an address signed by all your friends at Paris,
and you will be then at liberty to return."
'I objected to writing any petition, and at all events I determined
to consult my Ambassador, who had conducted himself well towards me.
I wrote to Lord Whitworth, stating the facts, and declaring that
nothing could ever make me deny the honour of being related to the
Abbe Edgeworth. Lord Whitworfh advised me, however, to state the
fact that I was not the Abbe's brother. . . .
'No direct answer was received from the First Consul; but perhaps
the revocation of the order of the Grand Juge came from him. We were
assured that my father's letter had been read by him, and that he
declared he knew nothing of the affair; and so far from objecting to
any man for being related to the Abbe Edgeworth, he declared that he
considered him as a most respectable, faithful subject, and that he
wished that he had many such.'
Before this unpleasant occurrence Edgeworth had thought of taking a
house in Paris for two years and sending for his other children; but
he now, in spite of the entreaties of his French friends, altered
his plans and resolved to return home. Maria writes:--'He was
prudent and decided--had he been otherwise, we might all have been
among the number of our countrymen who were, contrary to the law of
nations, and to justice and reason, made prisoners in France at the
breaking out of the war. We were fortunate in getting safe to free
and happy England a short time before war was declared, and before
the detention of the English took place.
'My eldest brother had the misfortune to be among those who were
detained. His exile was rendered as tolerable as circumstances would
permit by the indefatigable kindness of our friends the D' s. But it
was an exile of eleven years--from 1803 to 1814--six years of that
time spent at Verdun!'