_Rubens_, _Vanderwerfs_, and some Italian masters. Twenty-five
_Vanderwerfs_. Small cabinet pictures his finished, detailed style
suits, but he fails when he attempts history pictures. His pendant to
_Raphael’s_ ‘St. John’ shows that he did not understand _effect_; the
figure of Magdalen looks like a carving in ivory, and the hair like a
flaxen wig. A game piece by _Sneiders_, a single figure in it done by
_Rubens_, a _chef d’œuvre_. In general a picture painted by different
hands either fails in harmony or in composition, but not this one,
as each are perfect. Sneiders’ high finishing forced Rubens to give
more force and less glare. This picture makes one regret that Rubens
had not always some reason to paint in this energetic style. Two fine
_Boths_. Fine _Berghem_. The ‘Charlatan,’ by _Gerard Dow_, a charmingly
executed Dutch picture, as fine as the celebrated ‘Femme Hydropique,’
by the same hand, at Turin. The evening was rainy, and the weather very
unpromising, but the whim was to go on, and on we went to Furth. When
we arrived there were no beds; I and my maid sat up in a small room,
and Sir G. and the servants slept as they could in the carriages.
[Sidenote: DUSSELDORF]
_Sunday._--In the road to Juliers there are works upon the road
made by the French whilst they were in possession of this country.
Juliers is an ugly town belonging to the Elector of Bavaria. At
Aix-la-Chapelle heard the melancholy tale of the Queen’s being sent to
the Conciergerie. Unhappy woman! there is little hope of peace for her
in this life. Gaston continues successful in Brittany. He appears to
rise by magic, suddenly he advances at the head of thousands, and then
as suddenly they dissolve into air. It is a pity the emigrants are not
sent to succour him, but I confess I begin to fear the _liberal_,
generous, and gallant Englishman looks at France with a mercantile,
suspicious eye. Slept at Aix-la-Chapelle.
_12th August._--The road to Maestricht in a shocking state. The
town surrounded by works thrown up by the French when they besieged
it under Miranda, early in the year, while Dumouriez invaded Holland.
During the siege the _émigrés_ worked the guns, and were as brave
as this nation have always been. The besiegers gave up the attack.
The strength of the town is prodigious. It was the work of Crehorne
[_sic_], a great military tactician; it now belongs to the Dutch,
always garrisoned by 8000 or 10,000 men. It is a pretty town, large,
well built, and paved. Dined at Maestricht, and should have reached
St. Trond, but want of horses compelled us to stop at Tongres.
_13th._--Straight long avenues and fertile country. Stopped
at Louvain. In the courtyard saw English carriages, belonging to
some young men who are going to Italy, Mr. Amherst, Beauclerk, and
Cornewall. Near this town were fought the battles that expelled the
patriots from Flanders--_Neerwinden_ and _Louvain_.
_Bruxelles._--Found a budget of letters, from T. P. and my father.
Ld. H.[90] talks of coming to meet me; he can be absent from the Hague
only by stealth. Wrong as it will be, my inclination would get the
better of my reason if I had the measure to decide upon, but as I have
_not_, it must take its chance; only I do not think he can arrive
before I go. My children are perfectly well. Everything in this town is
as it was _nine_ years ago, when I, a little harmless innocent,
used to meander among the groves of this delicious park. My father
lived a year at this pretty place when I was a very young performer in
life. I went to see the desolation made a few days ago by a dreadful
accident in the suburb. Some ammunition waggons, to the amount of eight
in number, suddenly blew up. The explosion was fatal to 100 persons; a
gentleman, lady, child, and three servants were travelling past, and
must have perished, as no vestige of them or their equipage remains.
Madame de Balbi very friendly to me; all the _beau-monde_ of Paris
assembled here. Ld. Elgin[91] is the Minister here; he is _bien
fat_, civil like a Scotchman, but on the whole I liked him better
than I expected. Poor Ld. H. has a great prejudice against him. A
gossiping man, a Mr. Merrick, told me the scandal of London. He says
Carlo Dolce is annoyed at the violence of Mrs. Potiphar’s passion for
him: she is vehement even in public.
[Sidenote: COUNT FERSEN]
M. de Fersen, the lover of the unhappy Queen, came to see me. He is
tall and stately, and has the pretension in his manner of a favourite:
_au reste_, his devoted attachment to the Queen, even more in
her prison, makes him interesting. On the 6th of October he disguised
himself as a _démocrate_, and cried out with the mob, ‘Vive la
nation,’ merely that he might keep close to her carriage and protect
her from any personal violence. He planned their flight from Paris to
Varennes and rode postillion to the immense berlin; had his advice been
followed the whole family would have been safe.
I called upon Madame Ferraris; she thought me grown since Vienna.
Her husband is with the Duke of York. She says the Duke submits to
the advice of his generals very readily, but there are two different
stories upon that subject. I dined with Ld. Elgin, etc., and passed my
time pleasantly among the French.
_Tuesday, 20th._--I rose in the morning fully persuaded that
I should sleep at Bruges. Ld. Elgin (who I have grown to like)
very good-humouredly did his utmost to facilitate my wish of
seeing Valenciennes. He gave us quantities of passports, and very
_sullenly_ we set off. Saw A. St. Leger. He came over, as have
done many English, Mr. Windham, etc., to see the armies.
_21st. Mons._--Passed over the plain where the dreadful battle of
Jemappes was fought, which obtained to Dumouriez the full possession of
Flanders. The plain is covered with newly made graves; no skeletons,
except those of a few horses were stretched about. The whole country
covered with waggons and ammunition. The feeding and clothing of a
great army requires skill and combination, to the full as much as
leading it on to combat. Just out of Quievrain we entered part of
_old_ France. The corn was standing, and did not appear to be in
the least damaged. About a league from Valenciennes lies the wonderful
machinery that destroyed it, a magnificent park of artillery, with
immense magazines of balls, etc., guarded by a small party of Austrians
encamped. A pretty sight enough.
Valenciennes is in a deplorable state, many streets are quite
uninhabitable; scarcely a house standing that has not been shattered
by bombs. The streets are choked up with rubbish; beams of houses
half-burnt lying across. The quarter of the town through which we
passed first is the most destroyed; it was the part nearest to the
_globes of compression_.[92] The concussion occasioned by their
explosion finished what forty-two days incessant fire had begun. The
city walls and ramparts are crumbling from the shattering made in them
with ball. We were shown very exactly by an intelligent officer the
military posts, and the chief occurrences at them. The French went
into the _fossée_ when they abandoned the hornwork; the allies
pursued them. The panic created by the explosion of the globes of
compression made the assault very little perilous. The danger was when
the French recovered themselves and found that all the mischief was
done, they might have blown up the hornwork, as by some oversight the
besiegers had not undermined them there. Sir John Shelley served as a
volunteer, and gained himself credit by his gallantry. In the camp of
Famars, close by, is a rude monument erected in honour of Dampierre,
the citizen general, who was killed. It consists of the tree of liberty
decorated with military trophies. If his fame does not survive the
effigies, it will be but short-lived, as they are withering already.
[Sidenote: VALENCIENNES]
The loss of _bourgeoisie_ in the town during the siege is
calculated at about 2,500 men, women, and children. Thousands were
crammed into the vaults of the general hospital, and guards posted to
prevent them from going out that they might not by their complaints
and sufferings dispose the active _bourgeoisie_ and the garrison
to yield. The house I am now in is above two-thirds of it untenable;
the walls are perforated with balls and bombs, and there is not from
top to bottom a whole pane of glass in the house. The appearance of
the inhabitants denotes what they must have suffered from famine,
confinement, terror, and the whole accompanying train of diseases. Yet
they regret the Carmagnols, and would to-morrow assist their return.
Mr. Hobart and Mr. Meyrick joined us at dinner; they brought news of
an engagement at Tourcoing, for the Duke of York was getting on to
Ypres without suspecting he could meet with any impediment from the
_Camp de la Madeleine_, but he found to his cost that he was
interrupted. His vanguard, composed of Dutch, were attacked and forced
to _replier_; the detachment of Guards sent to reinforce them were
defeated with the loss of 200; Colonel Bosville was killed, and many
others wounded.
Whilst I was walking on the ramparts at Valenciennes, an Austrian
grenadier intended to make a well-turned compliment by wishing I was
his wife for the sake of a fine race of grenadiers. I received a
similar compliment from one of his description at Prague. Mr. Hobart
laughed mightily at the _Swager’s_ gallantry. When I look at the
scenes around and reflect that it is the deed of man to man, how far
more cruel does he appear than the lion or the tiger. We saw smoke from
Le Quesnoy; as it was invested we concluded it was a bombardment, but
as the trenches are not yet opened it could not be, therefore it must
have been the French employed in burning their suburbs! Prince Coburg
is before it.
_22nd._--Quitted Valenciennes at 3 o’clock. All the villages partake
of the ruinous ravage of war. About a league is the superb _ci-devant_
Abbaye de Vicoing, which alternately belonged to the allies and the
French; there are _breastworks_ and _embrasures_ in many parts round
it. It serves now as a _garnison_ for Austrian hussars. Very near
it are the Baths of St. Amand, near which the English were unwarily
surprised and beat unmercifully from a masked battery. Every cottage
that fronts the road has its walls perforated for muskets. Poor
wretched people! What a condition is theirs! friend or foe must be
equally to be dreaded by them.
The road between St. Amand and Tournay was covered with baggage
waggons and troops. In the dark, about 8 o’clock, I had an alarm that
produced a sensation of terror far beyond any power of description to
express. Just upon the plain where the battle of Fontenoy was fought,
I saw about a quarter of a mile before me ten or twelve horsemen
gallop across the road and range themselves under the trees of the
avenue. They came from the French side of the road, and in the dusk
and indistinct manner in which I saw them more than satisfied me that
they were French hussars. I gave myself up for lost, and in an agony of
silent despair hid my head. We approached, when, lo!--my hussars proved
to be gleaners. The immense bulk of them on the horizon and their
quiet motion, aided by imagination, made me see an enemy instead of a
harmless band of suffering countrywomen. When we reached Tournay we
found the inn full of English soldiers. Lord Huntley in the house very
dangerously ill.
[Sidenote: MOVEMENTS OF THE ALLIES]
It is very true that the nearer one approaches the scene of action
intelligence becomes more imperfect and contradictory. Every other man
we met gave us a different account; some said the D. of York was at
Ypres, others that he was at Furnes, and yet it is possible that he
has been at neither place. We met the Dutch troops who ran away on the
18th; they are going to garrison towns, as they cannot be trusted in
the lines. At Menin I saw Colonel Doyle walking upon the Grande Place.
He has a deep wound in his arm and a contusion on his knee. An old
Dutch acquaintance of Pierrôt’s[93] caressed him, the _greffier_
Fagel’s son, a great friend of Ld. Henry’s. The officers advised
us against going on to Ypres, as a severe cannonade had been heard
that way the whole morning, but we must either have returned or gone
on: I felt _queer_, not to say frightened. We passed within
_two_ miles of the French lines, and that is the distance for
half a dozen desperate hussars to gallop to plunder. We met a Mr.
Lodge, an Englishman; he has just left Furnes, near which the armies
are encamped, but he reported that they were filing off to lay siege
to Dunkirk. I hear the Cabinet of Vienna are displeased at the D. of
York’s terms of capitulation for Valenciennes, especially as he gave up
two of the deputies who had voted for the King’s death, and the troops,
they say, so far from abiding by their engagement of not serving again,
are hurrying down towards Dunkirk. At Ypres the Austrians brought in
twelve French prisoners, chiefly lads from 14 to 20; one of them was
quite a stripling, he had been a button-maker at Lyons, but was forced
to serve as a _Volunteer_. It is astonishing when we see their
troops how it is they contrive to fight so well, against the bravest
and best disciplined armies in the world. From Ypres the road to Furnes
is within 100 yards of the French territory. We went close to the
advanced Dutch pickets; their disposition to run away did not allow me
to rely much upon their protection. At Rousbrugge, a small village,
whilst we were in it, the drum beat to arms for an outpost being driven
in, and the alarm spread of the enemy. In an instant all the soldiers
turned out; a fine regiment called Loudohn Verts [_sic_].
At Furnes the town was so full that I was obliged to sit in the
carriage in the middle of the Grande Place, and had no prospect of
other shelter for the night. Fortunately, however, a charitable old
woman who kept a little tallow-chandler’s shop agreed to let me pass
the night in a little sandy parlour, that literally had no other
furniture than a walnut great chair and a cupboard decorated with
Delft cups. There was a _bedroom_, but to keep my companion from
becoming outrageously discontented I yielded it to him, and lay upon
blankets, etc. upon the floor. The room was really so small that when
I was extended my maid could not sit in the great chair; she therefore
passed the night in the carriage.
The evening was very agitating: we heard very plainly the roaring of
the cannon at Dunkirk; couriers were perpetually arriving with some
intelligence. The whole day had been passed in attempting to dislodge
the French from a wood just before the town. The news came of the death
of General Dalton and Col. Elde. At night I mounted the belfry of the
church; the light from the cannon at Dunkirk was very strong, no less
than five villages near it were in a blaze, the horizon was deeply dyed
with a mixture of deep red flames and smoke. I never passed a more
wretched night; the idea of the bloody tragedy near, the recollection
of the haggard countenances of the dying soldiers, and the possibility,
even probability, that many of my friends were expiring, made me so
nervous that I could not obtain a wink of sleep. I got up unrefreshed
and weary both in mind and body.
[Sidenote: THE BRITISH CAMP]
Major Doyle and all the officers I have seen express themselves with
discontent at the prospect of the campaign; they think the measure of
acting without the Austrians very injudicious.[94] They much doubt the
practicability of the capture of Dunkirk. With the utmost difficulty we
procured a vehicle, and with as much we waded through the deep black
sand to the British camp. The distance was about six miles in all.
The road is a high, narrow _chaussée_ with the dunes between it
and the sea. The first encampment is that of the artillery, prettily
placed on each side of the canal. Thirteen dead horses lay stretched
upon the road, victims of the engagement of the day before; we were
obliged to stop till they were dragged away, to let the carriage pass.
It was just thereabouts where Dalton fell; he was endeavouring to take
a well-defended redoubt. The English camp is making; they only took the
ground yesterday. I slept in the tent of Capt. Cerjat, of the Blues.
I went to see the corpse of Dalton: he was lying on his side with one
pale hand upon his head and the other upon his bosom, great expression
of placid benignity on his countenance.
The Duke of York, on hearing of my arrival, sent to beg me to go to
his tent and dine with him at headquarters. I saw poor Malbrouk, who
was looking mighty well. I dined with the Duke; I felt odd being the
only female among such a party of men. All the staff dined with him.
The place we dined in was a large grange; his own tent he kept for his
private use. He is highly incensed against the D. of Richmond[95]
for not sending the ordnance, and to complete his vexation the
artillery officers at Ostend have sent down the canals the carriages
in one vessel, and the cannons in another, so that they do not arrive
together. His language of censure is unqualified, and he is never much
disposed to praise the D. of Richmond. After dinner I attended with
H.R.H. the funeral of Col. Elde: it is an affecting sight. I was at
first startled at the firing in platoons over the grave, but after the
first discharge I did not mind it. There was another English officer
buried, but I was low-spirited and would not go.
The Duke bid St. Leger show me the different camps, and sent me in one
of his light cabriolets. In the course of the drive we were overtaken
by the chaplain, who galloped and called as fast and as loud as he
could. It was to make us return, for we had passed by several hundred
yards the spot where a Hanoverian _vedette_ had been killed by a
shell, a proof that we were within reach of danger. We returned as fast
as we could, and were grateful to him for his friendly interposition.
We got out and walked upon the dunes, but were speedily recalled, as
the _vedette_ advised me not to venture, the French riflemen
being such excellent shots that I might be aimed at. I should not have
dreaded French cruelty to a woman, had I not the melancholy instance of
the poor Queen.
[Sidenote: DUKE OF YORK’S KINDNESS]
I went and sat some hours with the Duke in his tent; M. de Bouillé was
there. I heard a pattering noise, like rain, upon the canvas of the
tent, but the eagerness of M. de Langereau to tell news soon destroyed
that tranquil belief, for he came out of breath to say that the
outposts were fighting, and were driven in, and a general attack might
be expected. The Duke, who knew perfectly well what was going on, but
had prudently and considerately concealed it from me, was quite angry
at his indiscretion. I was panic-struck, and fairly clung to the Duke
for comfort: I have wondered since how he could endure my tiresomeness.
Whenever an officer whispered him and he gave an order I was in a
tremor, upon which he said nothing should be done but openly, and he
really gave his orders in a way that I might hear distinctly. He asked
me to give the watchword, which I declined, and he with great gallantry
gave _Elizabeth and Success_, or something to that purpose. The
firing continued, and to prevent me listening to every volley, he
ordered his band to strike up; they played till I went. He sent me an
escort of several light dragoons; I reached Furnes safely some hours
after midnight.[96]
_Dover, 1st December, 1793._--Occupation and vexation prevented
me from keeping anything like a journal during the whole of my stay in
this odious country. I shall collect from memory all I can, whilst I
sit watching the weathercock, for we are detained here by adverse winds
and waves.
From Furnes we went to Ostend; we embarked with Messrs. Hobart and
Meyrick, and had a good passage of about twenty hours. Arrived at
Grenier’s Hotel on the 1st of September, and from thence went to
my father’s at Windsor. I had the happiness of finding him better,
tolerably cheerful, but very weak. After staying a few days with him, I
went to my little friends at Bignor,[97] all well, and happy to see me.
From thence I went to Stanmer, where I was received with cordiality;
Mr. Pelham was there, and of course enchanted at seeing me.
From thence I went across the country to Battle, that detested spot
where I had languished in solitude and discontent the best years of my
life. I lodged at the Deanery, as I had a superstitious feeling as to
passing another night within the same walls which confined me so long.
I saw without a particle of satisfaction all the well-known objects,
and felt restless until I got out of the place, for I felt half afraid
of being detained by some accident. I found Sheffield Place dreary
without my old friend; her corner and chair was occupied by her old
favourite, Gibbon. The whole family were affected at seeing me; towards
evening we grew more comfortable.
Gibbon came out with some of his very tedious witticisms. His joke was
that Lady Beauchamp[98] was the most unfortunate woman alive. She was
for a day or two wife to the most profligate man in the world, for she
was Lady Rochester; she then was wife to a traitor; and was finally
become an old German Countess, declared mistress to the King--the
Countess of Yarmouth.[99] All these changes arose from Lord Yarmouth
finding a difficulty in the choice of a second title upon his father’s
being made a Marquis.
[Sidenote: IN ENGLAND]
I went to Brightelmstone; the Prince chose to _combler_ me with
every attention and civility. He gave me breakfast in his tent to show
me his regiment, of which he is extremely vain. In London I passed all
my mornings and evenings with the Duchess of Devonshire. In the morning
we attended chemical lectures from Higgins, and in the evening I passed
my time at Devonshire House.
I went to Court with Lady George Cavendish. The Queen spoke very
crossly when she heard I was going to return to Florence. The King
talked about Dunkirk and his son. I dined with Burke at Lady Elliot’s.
He was full of delight at the capture of Toulon, and burst forth in
a grand strain of eloquence at the prospect of our having again the
_Cocarde blanche_ and the standard of royalty raised in one of the
chief cities of France. He said the allies were annoyed from a little
fort still held by the Republicans, but that once taken they should
become masters of the country. This fort was called the Heights of St.
Anne’s. ‘Aye,’ said he, ‘St. Anne’s is always in the way,’ alluding to
Mr. Fox’s opposition to the war, and his residence being at St. Anne’s
Hill, near Windsor.
I heard from Lord Henry, very miserable at not being able to catch me
anywhere on my return, but ordered to repair immediately to Stockholm.
Lord Sheffield consulted me about marrying. I recommended him to
marry Lucy Pelham; he begged me to sound T. P., who appeared much
pleased at the possibility of such an event.[100] I think it will
happen. Our parties at Devonshire House were delightfully pleasant.
Lady Melbourne[101] is uncommonly sensible and amusing, though she
often puts me in mind of Madame de Merteuil in the _Liaisons
dangereuses_. The Duke of Bedford is attached to her; he is quite
brutal from the _brusquerie_ of his manner. He is magnificently
generous to his younger brothers, and indeed to all who are in
distress. He is decidedly with Mr. Fox, a circumstance that displeases
the staunch courtiers. Mr. Grey is the _bien aimé_ of the Duchess;
he is a fractious, _exigeant_ lover. Sheridan has lost his lovely
wife. We made friends; he did behave abominably to me without any
question two years ago. I lived also a good deal with the Duchess of
Gordon; supped with her, and went to the play. I was really very much
admired, improved in my manner, and a sort of fashion and novelty by
coming from abroad.
[Sidenote: SIR GILBERT ELLIOT]
My old acquaintance Sir Gilbert Elliot[102] is appointed joint
Commissioner with Lord Hood and General O’Hara for arranging all civil
concerns at Toulon and any other towns that may offer to put themselves
under ye protection of the English or allies.[103] This Commission has
occasioned much discussion. It is an event to engage the attention of
the public, for the surrender of Toulon and the fleet in the harbour
gave the allies the entire command of the Mediterranean, and it was
the first place in which the standard of royalty has been raised: for
at Valenciennes and other places that had been taken by force of arms,
there were no declarations in favour of any party or description of
that in France.