myself the few days I passed at Lausanne. Marat has been assassinated
by a young woman of the name of Charlotte Corday. She obtained
admittance whilst he was in the bath and pleaded for some of the
deputies, who are in prison; she approached him, drew a poniard,
and stabbed him to the heart. She was immediately seized, and the
Convention are employed in devising new tortures for her. This death
will occasion some change in their measures, as Marat was an intrepid
villain who had attached a party to himself.
The news from Valenciennes is dreadful: in an escalade attempted by the
allies 6000 men perished.[77]
La Fayette is still at Magdebourg.[78] His confinement seems both hard
and unjust. The following lines are written by Lord Camelford:--
D’un fanatisme aveugle oser braver la ménace,
De ses vils oppresseurs oser punir l’audace,
Oser aimer son Roi, vouloir briser ses fers,
Protéger l’innocence, et dompter les pervers;
Au noirceur de l’intrigue opposer le courage,
La constance à la mort, le mépris à l’outrage.
_Favras_, ce sont là des crimes aujourd’hui,
Le supplice est pour toi, et le laurier pour lui!
Pour ce pâle tribun, le tyran et l’esclave,
Le chef et le jouet du parti qui le brave.
Conspirateur hardi, timide pour le bien,
Étouffant les remords qui germent dans son sein.
Ce _Cromwell_ sans talents, ce Brutus de la Foire,
Qui par ses crimes au moins se consigne à l’histoire,
Qui sait fouler aux pieds les autels et les lois,
Ensanglanter le trône et le lit de ses Rois;
Par de lâches complots accabler l’innocence.
Ce sont là de nos jours les vertus de la France.
Poor La Fayette, it overdoes his errors. I believe he was compelled
to go beyond his wishes, for as Dr. Johnson somewhere says, ‘However
faction finds a man, it seldom leaves him honest.’
Dumouriez[79] went to England; immediately upon his arrival he informed
Ld. Grenville, and begged to know whether he might be permitted to
remain. Ld. G. told him he applied to the wrong person, as Mr. Dundas
was the proper one to address, but he would venture to assure him
permission would _not_ be granted, and implied the sooner he went
the better.
I was extremely irritated to find a few miles from Lausanne that Mr.
Douglas had followed me. I knew that a timely check might rid me of his
company for the journey. I therefore stopped the carriage, spoke to
him with cold civility, and gave him a message to Ly. C., as I would
not allow him to suppose I could imagine that he meant to join me in
travelling. He looked embarrassed, took the rebuff, and returned back.
The Convention have satisfied themselves with ye guillotine for
Charlotte Corday. She behaved with the utmost intrepidity to the
last sad scene. Women have appeared at the Bar of the Convention
begging their infants might take the name of Marat, adding that they
renounced any other _évangile_ than his works, all creeds but
the Constitution! Great reports of the success of the Royalist army;
it is said to be within sixteen leagues of Paris, but I confess, for
one, that I am incredulous, as the stories about it vary so much.
Nantes was in counter-revolution for thirty-six hours; Lyons is hostile
to the Convention, but the inhabitants are arrant Republicans. I
believe General Ferraris will defeat my wish of seeing the siege of
Valenciennes, as he will take it before I get thither.
[Sidenote: STATE OF FRANCE]
Slept at Avenches. There is a curious mosaic pavement, a vestige of it
belonging to the Romans. Ld. Northampton[80] has lived here for fifteen
years. The old town stood a mile further eastward. Some inscriptions
besides the tesselated pavement still remain, but the corroding effect
of time, and the still more destructive hand of man, have left little
to prove its former splendour.
_24th July._--Set off at half-past seven o’clock. Just before we
entered the town of Morat we passed the chapel which contains the bones
of the Burgundians who fell on this spot in 1476; which finally closed
the long contests between the Swiss and the Duke of Burgundy. The awful
sight of these remains at once raises melancholy and pleasing thoughts,
for here were doomed to fall by the folly of a tyrant several thousands
of our species, and here also the courage arising from a true spirit of
liberty secured the independence of this country.
Charles the Bold was defeated at Grandson and at Morat. At this place
he lost the famous diamond, known since by the name of the Sancy
diamond. It was found on the field of battle by a Swiss soldier, who
sold it to a priest for a florin, who sold it again for half a crown.
It then fell into the hands of Antony, King of Portugal, and from him
the Baron of Sancy obtained it. This diamond afterwards served as a
pledge for a sum of money lent by the Swiss to Henry III. of France.[81]
We came here (Berne) at about two o’clock. This is the neatest,
dullest, coldest town I ever knew. I am sitting in a south room on the
24th of July, and I protest I am half frozen. This is the capital of
the canton, and is a far more magnificent city than might be expected
in a territory whose extent does not exceed much an English county.
It is situated on a hill, round which the Aar winds its course, and
protects the town from sudden surprise: it might easily be destroyed by
a bombardment from the surrounding hills that command it. The streets
are wide, clean, and well paved. The houses, like those in dear,
dear Italy, built on arcades, an admirable convenience for the foot
passengers in the rains of winter or the heats of summer. I think it
must fill the mind of a true John Bull with envy to see the town of
a province like this, or a small capital like Turin, surrounded with
public walks, extensive avenues, and magnificent approaches, whilst
their own metropolis can be approached only by shabby, narrow turnpike
roads. Ld. and Ly. Robert Fitzgerald live in the faubourgs; I shall
call upon them, and then pay my respects to the _bears_. I suffer
pain from the intense cold.
Leaving Berne at 9 o’clock on Thursday, July 25, the
travellers took the road to Hindelbank. Of the country Lady
Webster records:--
The soil continues the same; hills covered with firs and forest trees,
rich pasture, clean farming. As wood is more plentiful than stone,
houses are principally built of it; the projecting roofs are useful
for barns and outhouses, but for habitations of human creatures they
must be unwholesome by excluding the rays of the sun, and confining
the smoke of the wood fires. Every step that approaches me to England
lowers my spirits. Oh! how I abhor the thoughts of living in that
country. No friends, few relations!
[Sidenote: THE SWISS CHARACTER]
We slept at a little village the name of which I cannot write.
Set off at an early hour. The small Swiss inns are delightful, so
convenient, so well furnished with excellent provisions. The people are
_passively_ civil, which is all one requires; they have neither
the cold neglect of a French inn, the indifference and clamour of an
Italian one, or the insupportable officiousness of an English one. The
Swiss have more _junketing_ parties than any other people. Arrive
at any hour, day or night, and one finds the inns crammed and the
people stuffing their bellies.
We dined at Lutzburgh;[82] at the top of an isolated hill there is an
old castle, which commands the town. This route is better calculated to
please the farmer and the quiet landscape painter than the mineralogist
or poet. The country is flat and rich, and the scenes are pleasing and
tranquil: not a study for the pencil of a Salvator. About a mile from
Lutzburgh we entered the canton of Lucerne. The line of demarcation
between the Catholic and Protestant canton is more strongly marked by
the manners and habitations of the peasants, than by any fictitious
boundary prescribed by law. Poverty, dirt, and misery are the visible
attendants of the former, a manifest and glaring contrast to the
characteristics of the latter, where wealth, cleanliness and ease
abounds. The politician must explain the causes of this melancholy
difference between the adjoining countries.
The road led past Mellingen to Baden, where they passed
the night. ‘M. Barthelémy, formerly Secretary to the
Embassy in London and now Minister from France to the Swiss
Cantons, resides at this melancholy place.’
On July 27th they crossed the Rhine at Kaiserstuhl and went
on to Laufen.
_Sunday, 28th._--Schaffhausen is a melancholy, _triste_ town. The
tinkling of the bells of the church close to my room and the abominable
psalmody distracted my ears and shattered my nerves. I got up many
hours sooner than I intended, as _rest_ was unattainable. I like rather
the bells of convents; there is something cheerful in Catholicism,
but these dull Protestants make religion frightful in their way of
following it. The nasal melody of these devout Schaffhauseners, who
are at this moment screaming themselves hoarse to chant the praises of
God, would have met with little mercy if the heathen mythology were in
force, as Apollo would have dispatched their discordant souls to the
regions below. We went to the proper place to see the famous cataracts;
they are tremendous, the noise is more powerful than artillery could
make, I believe. I think the fall is about 100 feet. The river does
not recover its stillness for some time after the _chute_ ruffles its
waters.
[Sidenote: RIVAL STREAMS]
_Monday, 29th._--Set off at 5 o’clock, and bid adieu to the clean
cottages and bold, craggy mountains of Switzerland. We were advised
against the Basle road, as it approaches so very near the French
frontier that we might unwillingly have seen some skirmishes. Here
the dwellings of the inhabitants resemble those of Lincolnshire, mud
walls, and the inhabitants as filthy as the ground they tread on.
The circle of Swabia is reckoned to be a fertile and well-cultivated
country and its population proves that its peasantry are well fed.
The hills are well covered with fir and oak, the remains of the old
Hercynian Forest that once overspread this part of Germany from the
Danube to the Rhine. The wild boar and the wolf are the only savage
animals that inhabit these regions. The clearing of the forest has very
much influenced the climate of Italy; Kirwan thinks by its destruction
Lombardy is become warmer. We crossed a ridge of sand hills; on the top
of them I observed the rills of water to run in different directions,
forming small rivulets to the north and south sides. These continue
their course from their original direction. A lively imagination might
fancy their lamentations at the impossibility of their ever meeting
again in their native country. ‘I go,’ says the northern drop, ‘to join
the slow-flowing Danube, and quench the thirst of the heavy-paced,
mechanical German, the proud, independent, but crushed Hungarian, and
the lazy, ignorant, slavish Turk. In my way I shall wash the walls of
Vienna, Presburg, and Belgrade, and then in company with the waters of
Poland and of Russia will try to live in harmony with the waters of the
Euxine Sea.’ ‘And I,’ says the merry southern drop, ‘will rush on to
the rapid Rhine, wash the coast of the brave and hardy Swiss, will then
avoid the once cheerful Frenchmen, and frisk down to the North Sea,’
and, if he is of my mind, will avoid the chalky coast of England.
Arrived at midnight at Pallingen; I slept in a billiard room, a
_meuble_ neither ornamental, comfortable, nor useful.
_Tuesday, 30th._--Hechingen, the first post from where we slept,
the seat of the King of Prussia’s family, the Counts of Hohenzollern.
They possess a small principality, the revenues of which are
7000_l._ per annum, yet the great Frederick was descended from a
younger branch of this petty prince. A lively Frenchman said, ‘Parbleu,
voilà un cadet qui a fait fortune.’ The castle stands upon a high and
steep hill. They tell a story of one of its princes seeing from its
terrace the rich country of Würtemberg, and saying, ‘What an addition
would the _petit_ canton of Würtemberg be to the territory of
Hohenzollern.’ We dined there. Just entering Tübingen the country
pretty: woods inclining to a valley, watered by a little rill. Tübingen
appears to have been new built, but still in that terrible taste which
prevails all over Lower Germany. Black beams placed crossways and the
interstices filled up with plaster, high roofs, gable ends, and two
or three stories of garret windows in the roof; the whole gives a
mean appearance and disfigures a town as much as the style of English
architecture, though this has the superiority, as the houses have the
advantage of being _spacious_. A filthy, disgusting practice
prevails here, that of placing the dunghills precisely in front of
their houses. In the towns they are in a line with the bench before the
house, on which they sit smoking and regaling themselves after dinner;
in the villages, they are in the middle of the streets, and it requires
some skill in the postillions to steer safely between them. Beyond
Tübingen a noble forest of immense extent, part of the Hercynian; it is
full of fine oaks. I cannot make myself in the least understood in the
language of which Pope says:--
Language which Boreas might to Auster hold,
More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
I cannot connect two words so as to form the simplest sentence. We
reached Stuttgart at 12 o’clock at night.
Lord Mulgrave passed in his way to Milan: some official business
carries him. Custine is sent to the Abbey [_sic_], which is the
first step towards the scaffold.[83] Mayence fell on ye 25th.
_31st July._--A Scotch gentleman of the name of Stuart, brother
to Mrs. Hippisley, showed me everything to be seen. The Academy, a
noble institution for young military. The Duke[84] was very extravagant
formerly, but he has adopted many salutary reforms. The palace is very
grand: it was made in his days of splendour. He has now abandoned
this place and Louisbourg[85] and lives totally at Hohenheim, a
_château_ upon which he has also spent immense sums. His cruelty
is checked by his Duchess, a good woman; but his marriage with her was
a _mésalliance_.
[Sidenote: FALL OF MAYENCE]
Mayence surrendered upon capitulation: ye 22nd the Prussians marched
in. They endeavoured to persuade the Elector to return, but he was
afraid to trust himself among his loyal subjects. Beauharnais had a
bloody battle with the army of observation. He was trying to succour
Mayence: victory was wavering for some hours, but he did not attain
his object, consequently was defeated. We slept at Louisbourg about
twelve miles from Stuttgart; the palace and gardens are sumptuous, the
Opera house is the largest in Europe. Here in former times Vestris
and Noverre tripped upon the light fantastic toe to the admiration
and gawky imitation of the clumsy German. To-morrow we shall reach
Heidelberg.
_1st August, Thursday._--Left Louisbourg at 6 o’clock. Heilbronn,
a free Imperial city, very dull, and declining; the Neckar runs by it.
Open corn country. I did not visit the Tun, so extolled for its size; I
passed a most restless night on account of the myriads of little white
bugs. Got to Mannheim at 12. The whole town is animated, a garrison
in the town of 6000 men, bodies of troops passing through, couriers
coming and going. All too evidently proves the vicinity to the seat of
war, but though a _little_ alarming, yet one feels hurried on by
an interesting curiosity. The town is beautiful; large stone buildings,
fine wide streets, and all the objects cheerful and pleasing. The
Gallery contains many fine pictures, some charming _Murillos_; and
good Flemish artists have contributed. The Cabinet has some beautiful
specimens of mineralogy. At Valenciennes poor Tollemache[86] was killed
in the trenches. He is Ly. Bridget’s only son; a spent bomb struck
against his bowels and he expired the next day. We go to-morrow to
Mayence, which I expect to find a heap of ruins.
_Saturday, Mannheim, 3rd August._--I have been reading the
_sommation_ and articles of capitulation of Valenciennes. The
allies have accorded the garrison in it to return to France but to be
considered prisoners of war, with a promise that they will not serve
until they have been regularly exchanged for other prisoners.[87] It is
very unlikely that they should abide by this convention, and, to say
the truth, were I the Government of France they _should not_. Lord
Yarmouth told me a _trait_ of French _légèreté_ that amused
me. After the D. of York’s _sommation_ there was a parley, during
which many people came out of the town. The first intimation the Duke
had that the terms were accepted was by the director of the Theatre
coming to ask what piece H.R.H. would order the next day.
[Sidenote: THE SEAT OF WAR]
We left Mannheim at 10. The Elector’s carriage went out of the same
gate with us; it was going to Turkheim to bring the King of Prussia
here. Turkheim is the capital of the States of the unlucky Count of
Leiningen who was seized in his palace by the Patriots, who keep him as
a hostage for Camus, Beurnonville, and the other deputies delivered by
Dumouriez to the Austrians. The road is all alive; troops, recruits,
baggage waggons, ammunition waggons, sick and wounded, stragglers,
cavalry, all proclaim the direful din of arms is at hand. At Worms we
were forced to stop; three long hours have we already waited, not a
horse to be had. The Cathedral is a large, ugly brick edifice, in which
a few months ago 3000 patriots lodged. During their predatory excursion
they levied hard contributions upon the townspeople to the amount of
12,000 florins.
_4th August, Sunday._--Quitted Oppenheim at 6. Followed the course
of the Rhine: the roads almost destroyed by the quantity of heavy
artillery that had passed to the siege of Mayence. A long file of
ammunition waggons looked very pretty at a distance. I was gratified
with sight of _pontoons_ to make a bridge. I shall become very
skilful in military tactics if I remain amidst the clangour of war.
A mile from Mayence upon the road a small _fascine_ battery to
prevent succour getting to the city. The faubourgs totally destroyed,
not a house with a roof on it. Cortheim is a complete ruin; out of 180
houses and two churches not a vestige except the stones remain. The
works at Cassel, the other faubourg, are surprising. They were raised
by the French, who seemed as if they meant to fix there, as they had
begun to face the works with stone. A thick _abattis_ remains
all round the fortifications still. The town is very much damaged:
the Cathedral is almost a heap of ruins, the front tower remains
tottering without an atom of roof. The Electoral Palace is converted
into a hospital where many victims to the folly and ambition of their
employers are languishing. La Favorita, a _maison de plaisance_
of the Elector, is razed to the ground. We drove to Cortheim. It was
a melancholy sight; scorched walls, fields of self-sown corn grown up
with weeds, unpruned vines trampled by cavalry, a houseless town, and
every symptom of desolation and solitude. During the siege the French
devoured horseflesh, and have consumed so many that they are really
scarce; we can get none to go on with. I talked with an _émigré_,
who seems well acquainted with many of my friends. His prejudices are
absurd; he is as violent against the first Assembly as he is against
the atrocious Convention.
_5th of August, Frankfort._--The bridge of boats out of Mayence
would frighten a timid person to cross with frisky horses; ours did not
answer that description. We took the _voiturins_ to Frankfort.
We met a troop of French prisoners, who looked more as if they were
going to take possession of the city than of its prisons. I sat up very
late from downright low spirits. I cannot bear up whenever I am alone;
there is a desponding feel that steals over my mind and prevents me
from occupying myself in any way. ‘La mort ne vient jamais à propos,’
someone says; I want to die, but I do not, and I shall die (most
likely) when I could dispense with it. The Maison Rouge, a vast pile of
buildings. The whole town has a _bourgeois_ air about it. It has
not suffered by the French. I do not care if it does or not. Custine
only took one million of florins: they can bear much more squeezing.
It is said that the English fleet is at length in the Mediterranean: I
have heard the report so often that I doubt the truth of it.
[Sidenote: KÖNIGSTEIN]
_6th August, Frankfort._--Obliged to stay dinner, as horses
were out of the question for some hours. The common route is by
Hattersheim, but we were advised to go by Königstein, as the other
had been destroyed to retard the progress of the French. The road we
went was dreadful; several times I thought the carriage would have
been overset. Obliged to sleep at this place (Königstein) for the old
reason--want of horses. This place has been destroyed by military rage;
the houses are burnt and gutted. The French maintained themselves
here two months against the allies, and then only yielded to famine.
It was quite touching to see some of the hoary sons of St. Francis
lamenting over the ruins of their solitary cells, their untenanted
convent, and degraded altars. The hill upon which the fortress stands
is isolated, and commands a fine view of the plain of the Rhine. The
French surrendered to the Russians. The common people detest their old
masters, and long for the return of their democratic friends, whose
principles are captivating to the lower classes: every man enjoys the
prospect of placing his humble cot on a level with the proud palace,
forgetting that the equality can only be maintained by lowering the
palace to the cot. My companion in a paroxysm threw the book I was
reading at my head, after having first torn it out of my hands.
_7th August._--Set off at 7 from Königstein; the road insufferably
bad. Austrian soldiers marching from Linz into Brabant. One poor fellow
was lying on the ground roaring from the torture of a colic. I gave
him money, and as we were going the same road had him placed upon the
second carriage, that took him on till we overtook a baggage waggon: he
was a poor Croat not twenty years old. Slept at Montabaur.
_8th August._--Passed through a noble forest of enormous extent.
Coblentz is charmingly situated upon the Rhine. We crossed the river
on a _pont volant_. The _émigrés_ are no longer allowed to
remain in the town; this _foyer_ of counter-revolution is at
present very dull and democratic. Just out of the town we crossed the
Moselle, which there falls into the Rhine. We followed the course
of the Rhine to Bonn, the country rich and populous. Just before we
entered Bonn, I was delighted at the sight of a very magnificent ruin
of a baronial castle, with a high tower, upon a solitary rock. We slept
at Bonn, which is now the residence of the Elector of Cologne, who is
the uncle of the Emperor.
_9th August._--Stopped at Cologne, an ugly, dirty town; everything
looked black, houses, water, faces, trees. Road to Donningen[88] deep
sand and bad. Three miles from Dusseldorf crossed the Rhine, which is
very wide and begins to lose its transparency, on a _pont volant_.
The gates of Dusseldorf were shut, and we were compelled to take refuge
under a very comfortless roof; I lay upon the floor a prey to every
sort of vermin, bugs, spiders, earwigs--filthy. I never was really
annoyed at any _gîte_ before this.