JOURNEY TO FLANDERS.
When we left Paris, we took the road to Soissons and Laon, with a view
to see the seat of war during the previous campaign, and examine the
interesting country of Flanders. After passing the village of La
Villette, and the heights of Belleville, the country becomes flat and
uninteresting, and is distinguished by those features which characterise
almost all the level agricultural districts of France. The road, which
is of great breadth, and paved in the centre, runs through a continued
plain, in which, as far as the eye can reach, nothing is to be discerned
but a vast expanse of corn fields, varied at intervals by fallows, and
small tracts of lucerne and sainfoin. No inclosures are to be met with;
few woods are seen to vary the uniformity of the view; and the level
surface of the ground is only broken at intervals by the long rows of
fruit-trees, which intersect the country in different directions, or the
tall avenues of elms between which the _chaussèes_ are placed.
These elm trees would give a magnificent appearance to the roads, both
from their age and the immense length during which they fringe its
sides, were it not that they are uniformly clipt to the very top, for
firewood, by the peasantry, and that all their natural beauty is in
consequence destroyed. The elm, indeed, pushes out its shoots to replace
the branches which have been destroyed, and fringes the lofty stem with
a cluster of foliage; but as soon as these young branches have become
large, they too are in their turn sacrificed to the same purpose. When
seen from a distance, accordingly, these trees resemble tall May-poles
with tufts at their tops, and are hardly to be distinguished from the
Lombardy poplars, which, in many parts of the country, line the sides of
the principal roads.
One most remarkable circumstance in the agricultural districts of
France, is here to be seen in its full extent. The people do not dwell
in detached cottages, placed in the centre of their farms or their
properties, as in all parts of England; they live together in aged
villages or boroughs, often at the distance of two or three miles from
the place of their labour, and wholly separated from the farms which
they are employed in cultivating. It is no uncommon thing accordingly,
to see a farmer leaving a little town in the morning with his ploughs
and horses, to go to his piece of ground, which lies many miles from the
place of his residence.
This circumstance, which exists more or less in every part of France, is
characteristic of the state in which the people were placed in those
remote periods, when their habits of life were originally formed. It
indicates that popular degradation and public insecurity, when the poor
were compelled to unite themselves in villages or towns for protection
from the banditti, whom the government was unable to restrain, or from
the more desolating oppression of feudal power. In every country of
Europe, in which the feudal tyranny long subsisted; in Spain, in France,
in Poland, and in Hungary, this custom has prevailed to a certain
extent, and the remains of it are still to be seen in the remoter parts
of Scotland. It is in countries alone whose freedom has long subsisted;
in Switzerland, in Flanders, and in England, that no traces of its
effects are to be discerned in the manners and the condition of the
peasantry; that the enjoyment of individual security has enabled the
poor to spread themselves in fearless confidence over the country; and
that the traveller, in admiring the union of natural beauty with general
prosperity, which the appearance of the country exhibits, blesses that
government, by the influence of whose equal laws that delightful union
has been effected.
In the neighbourhood of Paris, and in those situations which are
favourable for vineyard or garden cultivation, this circumstance gives a
very singular aspect to the face of the country. As far as the eye can
reach, the sloping banks, or rising swells, are cultivated with the
utmost care, and intersected by little paths, which wind through the
gardens, or among the vineyards, in the most beautiful manner; yet no
traces of human habitation are to be discerned, by whose labour, or for
whose use, this admirable cultivation has been conducted. The labourers,
or proprietors of these gardens, dwell at the distance of miles, in
antiquated villages, which resemble the old boroughs which are now
wearing out in the improved parts of Scotland. In the greater part of
France, the people dwell in this manner, in crowded villages, while the
open country, every where cultivated, is but seldom inhabited. The
superiority, accordingly, in the beauty of those districts, where the
cottages are sprinkled over the country, and surrounded by fruit-trees,
is greater than can well be imagined: and it is owing to this
circumstance that Picardy, Artois, and Normandy, exhibit so much more
pleasing an appearance, than most of the other provinces of France.
In the district between Paris and Soissons, as in almost every other
part of the country, the land is now in the hands of the peasantry, who
became proprietors of it during the struggles of the revolution. We had
every where occasion to observe the extreme industry with which the
people conduct their cultivation, and perceived numerous instances of
the truth of Mr Young's observation, "that there is no such instigator
to severe and incessant labour, as the minute subdivision of landed
property." But though their industry was uniformly in the highest degree
laudable, yet we could not help deploring the ignorant and unskilful
manner in which this industry is directed. The cultivation is still
carried on after the miserable rotation which so justly excited the
indignation of Mr Young previous to the commencement of the revolution.
Wheat, barley or oats, sainfoin, lucerne or clover, and fallow, form
the universal rotation. The green crops are uniformly cut, and carried
into the house for the cattle; as there are no inclosures, there is no
such thing as pasturage in the fields; and, except once on the banks of
the Oise, we never saw cattle pasturing in those parts of France. The
small quantity of lucerne and sainfoin, moreover, shews that there are
but few herds in this part of France, and that meat, butter, or cheese,
form but a small part of the food of the peasantry. Normandy, in fact,
is the only pasture district of France, and the produce of the dairy
there is principally intended for the markets of Paris.
The soil is apparently excellent the whole way, composed of a loam in
some places, mixed with clay and sand, and extremely easily worked.
Miserable fallows are often seen, on which the sheep pick up a wretched
subsistence--their lean sides and meagre limbs exhibit the effects of
the scanty food which they are able to obtain. The ploughing to us
appeared excellent; but we were unable to determine whether this was to
be imputed to the skilfulness of the labourer, or the light friable
nature of the soil.
The property of the peasantry is not surrounded by any enclosures, nor
are there any visible marks whereby their separate boundaries could be
determined by the eye of a stranger. The plain exhibits one unbroken
surface of corn or vineyards, and appears as if it all formed a part of
one boundless property. The vast expanse, however, is in fact subdivided
into an infinite number of small estates, the proprietors of which dwell
in the aged boroughs through which the road occasionally passes, and the
extremities of which are marked by great stones fixed on their ends,
which are concealed from a passenger by the luxuriant corn in which they
are enveloped. This description applies to the grain districts in almost
every part of France.
Although the condition of the peasantry has been greatly ameliorated, in
consequence of the division of landed property since the revolution, yet
their increased wealth has not yet had any influence on the state of
their habitations, or the general comfort of their dwellings. This rises
from the nature of the contributions to which they were subjected during
the despotic governments which succeeded the first years of the
revolution. These contributions were levied by the governors of
districts in the most arbitrary manner. The arrondissement was assessed
at a certain sum by the government, or a certain contribution for the
support of the war was imposed; and the sum was proportioned out among
the different inhabitants, according to the discretion of the collector.
Any appearance of comfort, accordingly, among the peasantry, was
immediately followed by an increased contribution, and heavier taxes;
and hence the people never ventured to make any display of their
increased wealth in their dwellings, or in any article of their
expenditure, which might attract, the notice of the collectors of the
imperial revenue. The burdens to which they were subjected, moreover,
especially during the last years of the war, were extremely severe,
arising both from the enormous sums requisite to save their sons from
the conscription, and the heavy unequal contributions to which they were
subjected.
From these causes, the division of landed property has not yet produced
that striking amelioration in the habits and present comfort of the
peasantry, which generally attend this important measure; and their
wealth is rather hoarded up, after the eastern custom, for future,
emergencies or spent in the support of an early marriage; and never
lavished in the fearless enjoyment of present opulence.
In some respects, however, their appearance evidently bears the mark of
the improvement in their situation. Their dress is upon the whole neat
and comfortable, covered in general by a species of smock frock of a
light blue colour, and exhibiting none of that miserable appearance
which Mr Young described as characterising the labouring classes during
his time. They evidently had the aspect of being well fed, and both in
their figures and dress, afforded a striking contrast to the wretched
and decrepid inhabitants of the towns, in whom the real poverty of the
people, under the old regime, was still perceptible. In some of these
towns, the appearance of the beggars, their extraordinary figures, and
tattered dress, exhibited a spectacle which would have been
inconceivably ludicrous, were it not for the melancholy ideas of abject
poverty which it necessarily conveyed.
About twenty miles from Soissons, the road passes through the
magnificent forest of Villars Coterets, which, in the luxuriance and
extent of its woods, rivals the forest of Fontainbleau. The place on
which it stands is varied by rising grounds, and the distance exhibits
beautiful vistas of forest scenery and gentle swells, adorned by rich
and varied foliage. It wants, however, those grand and striking
features, that mixture of rock and wood, of forest gloom and savage
scenery, which give so unrivalled a charm to the forest of
Fontainbleau.
From Villars Coterets, the road lies over a high plateau, covered with
grain, and exhibiting more than ordinary barrenness and desolation.
After passing over this dreary track, you arrive at the edge of a steep
declivity, which shelves down to the valley in which the Aisne wanders.
The appearance of this valley is extremely beautiful. It is sheltered by
high ridges, or sloping hills, covered with vineyards, orchards, and
luxuriant woods: the little plain is studded with villas and neat
cottages, embosomed in trees, or surrounded by green meadows, in which
the winding course of the Aisne can at intervals be discerned. When we
reached this spot, the sun had newly risen; his level rays illuminated
the white cottages with which the valley is sprinkled, or glittered on
the stream which winded through its plain; while the Gothic towers of
Soissons threw a long shadow over the green fields which surrounded its
walls. It reminded us of those lines in Thomson, in which the effect of
the morning light is so beautifully described:
"Lo, now apparent all,
Aslant the dew-bright earth and coloured air,
He looks in boundless majesty abroad,
And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,
High gleaming from afar."
The descent to Soissons is through a declivity adorned by thriving
gardens and neat cottages, detached from each other, which afforded a
pleasing contrast to the solitary, uninhabited, though cultivated plains
through which our route had previously lain. The Fauxbourgs of the town
were wholly in ruins, having been totally destroyed in the three
assaults which they had sustained during the previous campaign. The town
itself is small, surrounded by decayed fortifications, and containing
nothing of note, except the Gothic spires, which bear testimony to its
antiquity.
On leaving Soissons on the road to Laon, you go for two miles through
the level plain in which the town is situated; after which you begin to
ascend the steep ridge by which its eastern boundary is formed. It was
on the summit of this ridge that Marshal Blucher's army was drawn up,
80,000 strong, at the time when a detachment of his troops, under Count
Langeron, was defending Soissons against the French army. Immediately
below this position, there is placed a small village, which bore the
marks of desperate fighting; all the houses were unroofed or shattered
in every part by musket balls; and many seemed to have been burnt during
the struggles of which it was formerly the theatre. There is an old
castle a little higher up the ascent, which was garrisoned by the allied
troops; in the neighbourhood of which, we perceived numerous traces of
the immense bivouacs which had been made round its walls; particularly
the bodies of horses and oxen, which the Russians had left on the
ground, and which the peasants had taken no pains to remove.
From thence the road runs over a high level plateau, covered with
miserable corn, or worse fallows, and having an aspect of sterility very
different from what we were accustomed to in the rich provinces of
France. In the midst of this dreary country, we beheld with delight
several deep ravines, formed by streams which fall into the Aisne,
sheltered from the chilling blasts that sweep along the high plains by
which they are surrounded, the steep sides of which were clothed with
luxuriant woods, and in the bottom of which are placed many little farms
and cottages, which exhibited a perfect picture of rural beauty. Even
here, however, the terrible effects of war were clearly visible; these
sequestered spots had been ravaged by the hostile armies; and the ruined
walls of the peasants dwellings presented a melancholy spectacle in the
midst of the profusion of beauty with which they were surrounded.
Half way between Soissons and Laon, is placed a solitary inn, at which
Bonaparte stopt six hours, after the disastrous termination of the
battle of Laon. The people informed us, that during this time, he was in
a state of great agitation, wrote many different orders, which he
destroyed as fast as they were done, and covered the floor with the
fragments of his writing. Many Cossacks and Bashkirs had been quartered
in this inn; the people, as usual, would not allow them any good
qualities, but often repeated, with evident chagrin--"Ils mangent comme
des diables; ils ont mangé tous les poulets."
The features of the country continue with little variety, till you begin
to descend from the high plateau, over which the road has passed into
the wooded valley, in the centre of which the hill and town of Laon are
placed. The dreary aspect of this plateau, which, though cultivated in
every part, exhibited few traces of human habitation, was enlivened
occasionally by herds of pigs, of a lean and meagre breed, (followed by
shepherds of the most grotesque appearance,) wandering over the bare
fallows, and seemingly reduced to the necessity of feeding on their
mother earth.
At the distance of six miles from Laon, the descent begins to the plain
below, down the side of a deep ravine, beautifully clothed with woods
and vineyards. On the other side of this ravine lies the plateau on
which the battle of Craon was fought, whose level desolate surface
seemed a fit theatre for the struggle that was there maintained. At the
bottom of the ravine the road passes a long line of villages, surrounded
with wood and gardens, which had been wholly ruined by the operations of
the armies; and among the neighbouring woods we were shewn numerous
graves both of French and Russian soldiers.
The approach to Laon lies through a great morass, covered in different
places with low brushwood, and intersected only by the narrow chaussèe
on which the road is laid. The appearance of the town is very striking;
standing on a hill in the centre of a plain of 10 or 12 miles in
diameter, bounded on all sides by steep and wooded ridges. It is
surrounded by an old wall, and some decayed towers, and is adorned by
some fine Gothic spires, whose apparent magnitude is much increased by
the elevated station on which they are placed.
In crossing this chaussèe, we were immediately struck with the
extraordinary policy of Bonaparte, in attacking the Russian army posted
on the heights of Laon, where his only retreat was by the narrow road
we were traversing, which for several miles, ran through a morass,
impassible for carriages or artillery. This appeared the more wonderful,
as the army he was attacking was more numerous than his own, composed of
admirable troops, and posted in a position where little hopes of success
could be entertained. It was an error of the same kind as he committed
at Leipsic, when he gave battle to the allied armies with a single
bridge and a long defile in his rear. It is laid down as one of the
first maxims of war, by Frederic the Great, "never to fight an enemy
with a bridge or defile in your rear: as if you are defeated, the ruin
of the army must ensue in the confusion which the narrowness of the
retreat creates." We cannot suppose so great a general as Bonaparte to
have been ignorant of so established a principle, or a rule which common
sense appears so obviously to dictate; it is more probable, that in the
confidence which the long habit of success had occasioned, he never
contemplated the possibility of a defeat, nor took any measures whatever
for ensuring the safety of his army in the event of a retreat. Be this
as it may, it is certain that he fought at Laon with a morass, crossed
by a single chaussèe, in his rear, and that if he had been totally
defeated, instead of being repulsed in the action which then took
place, his army must have been irretrievably ruined, in the narrow line
over which their retreat was of necessity conducted.
At the foot of the hill of Laon is placed a small village named Semilly,
in which a desperate conflict had evidently been maintained. The trees
were riddled with the cannon-shot; the walls were pierced for the fire
of infantry, and the houses all in ruins, from the showers of balls to
which they had been exposed. The steep declivity of the hill itself was
covered with gardens and vineyards, in which the allied army had been
posted during the continuance of the conflict; but though three months
had not elapsed since the period when they were filled with hostile
troops, no traces of desolation were to be seen, nor any thing which
could indicate the occurrence of any extraordinary events. The vines
grew in the utmost luxuriance on the spot where columns of infantry had
so recently stood, and the garden cultivation appeared in all its
neatness, on the very ground which had been lately traversed by all the
apparatus of modern warfare. It would have been impossible for any one
to have conceived, that the destruction they occasioned could so soon
have been repaired; or that the powers of Nature, in that genial
climate, could so rapidly have effaced all traces of the desolation
which marked the track of human ambition.
The town of Laon itself contains little worthy of note; but the view
from its ramparts, though not extensive, was one of the most pleasing
which we had seen in France. The little plain with which the town is
surrounded, is varied with woods, corn fields, and vineyards; the view
is closed on every side by a ridge of hills, which form a circular
boundary round its farthest extremity, while the foreground is finely
marked by the decaying towers of the fortress, or the dark foliage which
shades its ramparts.
We walked over the field of battle with a degree of interest, which
nothing but the memorable operations of which it had formerly been the
theatre, could possibly have excited. The accounts of the action, which
we received from the inhabitants of the town, and peasantry in its
vicinity, agreed perfectly with the official details which we had
previously read; and although we could not give an opinion with
confidence on a military question, it certainly appeared to us, that the
operations of the French army had been ill combined. Indeed, some
French officers with whom we conversed on the next day, allowed that the
battle had been ill fought, but, as usual, laid all the blame upon
Marmont. The main body of the French army, advancing by the road from
Soissons, attacked the villages of Ardon and Semilly in front of the
town, on the centre of Marshal Blucher's position, and his right wing,
which was posted in the intersected ground to the west of the town, on
the morning of the 9th of March. These parts of the position were
occupied chiefly by the corps of Woronzoff and Buloff, and as they were
very strong, no impression was made on them, and the troops who defended
them maintained themselves, without support from the reserves, during
the whole day. Late in the evening, the corps of Marmont, with a body of
cavalry under Arrighi, appeared on the road from Rheims, advancing
apparently without any communication or concert with the troops under
Napoleon in person, (who were drawn up, for the most part, in heavy
columns, in the immediate vicinity of the Soissons road), and made a
furious attack on the extreme left of Marshal Blucher's position. The
Marshal being satisfied by this time, that the troops in position about
the town were adequate to the defence of it against Napoleon's force,
was enabled to detach the whole corps of York, Kleist, and Sacken, with
the greater part of his cavalry, to oppose Marmont, who was instantly
overthrown, cut off from all communication with Napoleon, and driven
across the Aisne, with the loss of four or five thousand prisoners, and
forty pieces of cannon. The only assistance which Napoleon could give
him in his retreat, was by renewing the attack on Ardon and Semilly,
which he did next morning, and maintained the action during the whole of
the 10th, with no other effect, than preventing the pursuit of Marmont
from being followed up by the vigour which might otherwise have been
displayed by the Silesian army, notwithstanding the fatigues which they
had undergone at that time, during six weeks of continued marching and
fighting.
The village of Athies, where the contest with Marmont's corps was
decided, containing about 200 houses, had been completely burnt in the
time of the action; and, when we were there, little progress had been
made in rebuilding it, but the inhabitants, then living in temporary
sheds, displayed their usual cheerfulness and equanimity; they were very
loud in reprobation of the military conduct of Marmont, and very anxious
to convince us, that the French had been overwhelmed only by great
superiority of numbers, and that the allies might have completely cut
off the retreat of Marmont towards Rheims, if they had known how to
profit by their success.
June 8th, we left Laon at sunrise, and took the road to St Quentin. For
a few miles the road passes through the plain in which the town is
placed, after which it enters a pass, formed between the sloping hills,
by which its boundary is marked. These hills are, for the most part,
soft and green, like those on the banks of the Yarrow in Scotland, but
varied, in some places, by woods and orchards; and their lower
declivities are every where covered by vineyards and garden cultivation.
Near their foot is placed the village of Cressy, which struck us as the
most comfortable we had seen in France. The houses are all neat and
substantial, covered with excellent slated roofs, and lighted by large
windows, each surrounded by a little garden, and exhibiting a degree of
comfort rarely to be met with among the dwellings of the French
peasantry. On inquiry, we found that these peasants had long been
proprietors of their houses, with the gardens attached, and had each a
vineyard on the adjoining heights. The effects of long established
property were here very apparent in the habits of comfort and industry,
which, in process of time, it had ingrafted upon the dispositions and
wishes of the people.
After passing the ridge of little hills, through banks clothed with
hanging woods, the road descends into a little circular valley,
surrounded on all sides by rising grounds, which presented a scene of
the most perfect rural beauty. The upper part of the hills were covered
with luxuriant woods, whose flowing outline suited the expression of
softness and repose by which the scene was distinguished; on the
declivities below the wood, the vineyards, gardens, and fruit-trees,
covered the sunny banks which descended into the plain, while the lower
part of the valley was filled with a village, embosomed in fruit-trees,
ornamented only by a simple spire. It is impossible for language to
convey an adequate idea of the beauty of this exquisite scene; it united
the interest of romantic scenery with the charm of cultivated nature,
and seemed placed in this sequestered valley, to combine all that was
delightful in rural life. When we first beheld it, the sun was newly
risen; his increasing rays threw a soft light over the wooded hills, and
illuminated the summit of the village spire; the grass and the vines
were still glittering in the morning dew, and the songs of the peasants
were heard on all sides, cheering the beginning of their early labour.
The marks of cultivation harmonized with the expression by which the
scene was characterised; they were emblematic only of human happiness,
and had a tendency to induce the momentary belief, that in this
sequestered spot the human species shared in the fulness of universal
joy.
As we descended into the valley, we perceived a great chateau near the
western extremity of the village of Foudrain, which appeared still to be
inhabited, and had none of the appearance of decay by which all that we
had hitherto seen were distinguished. It belongs to the Chevalier
Brancas, who is proprietor of this and seven or eight of the adjoining
villages, and whose estates extend over a great part of the surrounding
country. On enquiry, we found that this great proprietor had, long
before the revolution, pursued a most enlightened and indulgent conduct
towards his peasantry, giving them leases of their houses and gardens of
20 or 30 years, and never removing any even at the expiration of that
period, if their conduct had been industrious during its continuance.
The good effects of this liberal policy have appeared in the most
striking manner, not only in the increased industry and enlarged wealth
of the tenants; but in the moderate, loyal conduct which they pursued,
during the eventful period of the revolution. The farmers on this estate
are some of the richest in France; many being possessed of a capital of
15,000 or 16,000 francs, (from £. 750 to £. 800 Sterling,) a very large
sum in that country, and amply sufficient for the management of the
farms which they possessed. Their houses are neat and comfortable in the
most remarkable degree, and the farm-steadings as extensive and
substantial as in the most improved districts of England. The ground is
cultivated with the utmost care, and the industry of the peasants is
conspicuous in every part of agricultural management. It was impossible,
in comparing these prosperous dwellings with the decayed villages in
most other parts of the country, not to discern, in the clearest manner,
the salutary influence of individual security upon the labouring
classes; and the tendency which the certainty of enjoying the fruits of
their labour has, not merely in increasing their present industry, but
awakening those wishes of improvement, and engendering those habits of
comfort; which are the only true foundation of public happiness.
During the revolution, when the peasants of all the adjoining estates
violently dispossessed their landlords of their property; when every
adjoining chateau exhibited a scene of desolation and ruin; the peasants
of this estate were remarkable for their moderate and steady conduct; so
far from themselves pillaging their seigneur, they formed a league for
his defence "--Ils l'ont soutenùs," as they themselves expressed
it--_and he continued throughout, and is now in the quiet possession of
his great estate_. It is not perhaps going too far to say, that had the
peasants throughout the country been treated with the same indulgence,
and suffered to enjoy the same property, as in this delightful district,
France would have been spared from all the horrors and all the
sufferings of her revolution.
From Foudrain to La Fere, the country is, for the most part, flat; and
the road, which is shaded by lofty trees, skirts the edge of a great
forest, which stretches as far as the eye can reach to the left; and
joins with the forest of Villars Coterets. For many miles the road is
bordered by fruit-trees, and the cottages have a most comfortable
thriving appearance. To St Quentin the face of the country is flat,
though the ridge over which you pass is high; the villages have an
appearance of progress and opulence about them, which is rarely to be
met with in other parts of France. All the peasantry carry on
manufactures in their own houses; and probably their gains are very
considerable, as their houses are much more neat and comfortable than in
districts which are solely agricultural, and their dress bears the
appearance of considerable wealth. The cultivation in the open country
still continues, in general, to be wheat, barley, clover, and fallow;
but the approach to French Flanders is very obvious, both from the
increased quantity of rye under cultivation, from the occasional fields
of beans which are to be met with, and from the numbers of potatoes and
other vegetables which are to be discerned round the immediate vicinity
of the villages. In these villages the houses are white-washed,
surrounded by gardens, and have a smiling aspect.
La Fere is a small town, surrounded with trifling fortifications,
containing a considerable arsenal of artillery. We were much amused,
while there, with the spectacle which the market exhibited. A great
concourse of people had been collected from all quarters, to purchase a
number of artillery horses which the government had exposed at a low
price, to indemnify the people for the losses they had sustained during
the continuance of the war. The crowds of grotesque figures which
thronged the streets, the picturesque appearance of the horses that were
exposed to sale, and the fierce martial aspect of the grenadiers of the
old guard, a detachment of whom were quartered in the town, rendered
this scene truly characteristic of the French people.
St Quentin is a neat, clean, and thriving town, resembling, both in the
forms of the houses, and the opulence of the middling classes, the
better sort of the country towns in England. It is the seat of
considerable manufactures, which throve amazingly under the imperial
government, in consequence of the exclusion of the English commodities
during the revolutionary wars. The linen manufacture is the staple
branch of industry, and affords employment to the peasantry in their own
houses, in every direction in the surrounding country, which is probably
the cause of the thriving prosperous appearance by which they are
distinguished. The great church of St Quentin, though not built in fine
proportions, is striking, from the coloured glass of its windows, and
its great dimensions.
The French cultivation continues without any other change than the
increased quantity of rye in the fields, and vegetables round the
cottages, to the frontier of French Flanders. Still the country exhibits
one unbroken sheet of corn and fallow; no inclosures are to be seen, and
little wood varies the uniformity of the prospect. In crossing a high
ridge which separates St Quentin from Cambray, the road passes over the
great canal from Antwerp to Paris, which is here carried for many miles
through a tunnel under ground. This great work was commenced under the
administration of M. Turgot, but it was not completed till the time of
Bonaparte, who employed in it great numbers of the prisoners whom he had
taken in Spain. The magnitude of the undertaking may be judged of from
the immense depth of the hollow which was cut for it, previous to the
commencement of the tunnel, which is so great, that the canal, when seen
from the top, has the appearance of a little stream. The course of the
tunnel is marked on the surface of the ground by a line of chalky soil,
which is spread above its centre, and which can be seen as far as the
eye can reach, stretching over the vast ridge by which the country is
traversed.
At the distance of three miles from the town of Cambray, the road
crosses the ancient frontiers of French Flanders. We had long been
looking for this transition, to discover if it still exhibited the
striking change described by Arthur Young, "between the effects of the
despotism of old France, which depressed agriculture, and the free
spirit of the Burgundian provinces, which cherished and protected it."
No sooner had we crossed the old line of demarcation between the French
and Flemish provinces, than we were immediately struck with the
difference, both in the aspect of the country, the mode of cultivation,
and the condition of the people. The features of the landscape assume a
totally different aspect; the straight roads, the clipt elms, the
boundless plains of France are no longer to be seen; and in their place
succeeds a thickly wooded soil and cultivated country. The number of
villages is infinitely increased; the village spires rise above the
woods in every direction, to mark the antiquity and the extent of the
population: the houses of the peasants are detached from each other, and
surrounded with fruit trees, or gardens kept in the neatest order, and
all the features of the landscape indicate the long established
prosperity by which the country has been distinguished.
Nor is the difference less striking in the mode of cultivation which is
purified. Fallows, so common in France, almost universally disappear;
and in their place, numerous crops of beans, pease, potatoes, carrots
and endive, are to be met with. In the cultivation of these crops manual
labour is universally employed; and the mode of cultivation is precisely
that which is carried on in garden husbandry. The crops are uniformly
laid out in small patches of an acre or thereby to each species of
vegetable; which, combined with the extreme minuteness of the
cultivation, gives the country under tillage the appearance of a great
kitchen garden. This singular practice, which is universal in Flanders,
is probably owing to the great use of the manual labour in the
operations of agriculture. Rye is very much cultivated, and forms the
staple food of the peasantry. The crops of wheat, barley, oats, rye, and
clover, struck us as exceedingly heavy, but not nearly so clean as those
of a similar description in the best agricultural districts of our own
country.
But it is principally in the condition, manners, and comfort of the
people, that the difference between the French and Flemish provinces
consists. Every thing connected with the lower orders, indicates the
influence of long-established prosperity, and the prevalence of habits
produced by the uninterrupted enjoyment of individual opulence. The
population of Flanders, both French and Austrian, is perfectly
astonishing; the villages form an almost uninterrupted line through the
country; the small towns are as numerous as villages in other parts of
the world, and seem to contain an extensive and comfortable population.
These small towns are particularly remarkable for the number and
opulence of the middling classes, resembling in this, as well as other
respects, the flourishing boroughs of Yorkshire and Kent, and affording
a most striking contrast to those of a very opposite description, which
we had recently passed through in France.
The cottages of the peasantry, both in the villages and the open
country, are in the highest degree, neat, clean, and comfortable; built
for the most part of brick, and slated in the roof; nowhere exhibiting
the slightest symptoms of dilapidation. These houses have almost all a
garden attached to them, in the cultivation of which, the poor people
display, not only extreme industry, but a degree of taste superior to
what might be expected from their condition in life: The inside bore the
marks of great comfort, both from the cleanness which every where
prevailed, and the costly nature of the furniture with which they were
filled. Nothing could be more pleasing than the appearance of the
windows, every where in the best repair, large and capacious, and
furnished with shutters on the outside, painted green, which, together
with the bright whiteness of the walls, gave the whole the appearance of
buildings destined for ornamental purposes, rather than the abode of the
lower orders of the people.
Cambray is a neat comfortable town, containing 15,000 inhabitants, and
surrounded by fortifications in tolerable repair, but which, when we
passed them, were not armed. It was once celebrated for its magnificent
cathedral, reckoned the finest in France; but a few ruins of this great
building alone have escaped the fury of the people, during the
commencement of the revolution. These trifling remains, however, were
sufficient to convey some idea of the beautiful proportions in which the
whole had been constructed; they resembled much the finest part of
Dryburgh Abbey, in Scotland. The modern cathedral, built near the site
of the old one, has a mean exterior, but possesses considerable
splendour in the inside.
From Cambray to Valenciennes, the features of the country continue the
same as those we have just described. The surface of the ground is still
flat, and cultivated in every part with the utmost care, in the garden
style of husbandry. We were particularly struck, in this district, by
the quantity of drilled crops, the admirable order in which they are
kept, and the vast numbers of people, both men, women, and children, who
appeared engaged in their cultivation. Nothing, indeed, but the great
demand for labour, occasioned by the use of manual labour in husbandry,
could have produced, or could support, the great population by which
Flanders has always been distinguished.
Valenciennes, situated in one of the finest districts of Flanders, is
likewise a well built, comfortable town, built entirely of brick, and
surrounded by magnificent fortifications, in admirable repair. As this
was the first well fortified town which we had seen, it was to us a
matter of no ordinary interest, which was encreased by the remembrance
of the celebrated siege which it had undergone from the English army at
the commencement of the revolutionary war. We were shewn the point at
which the English forced their entrance; and the numberless marks of
cannon-balls which their artillery had occasioned during the siege were
still uneffaced. Though the modern fortifications, built after the model
of Vauban, have not the romantic or picturesque aspect which belongs to
the aged towers of Montreuil, Abbeville, or Laon, or the more ruinous
walls of the town of Conway in Wales, yet they present a pleasing
spectacle, arising partly from the regularity of the forms themselves,
and partly from the association with which they are connected.
From Valenciennes to Mons, the country is still flat, though the
cultivation and the aspect of the scene is somewhat varied from what had
been exhibited by the districts of French Flanders, through which we had
previously passed. It lies lower, and appears more subject to
inundation: Ditches appear at intervals, filled with water, and
extensive meadows are to be seen, covered with rank and luxuriant grass.
The cultivation of grain and green crops is less frequent, and in their
stead, vast tracks of rich pasture cover the face of the country. Much
wood is to be seen on all sides, often of great dimensions; and the
population appears still as great as before. The villages succeed one
another so fast, as almost to form a continued street; and the
numberless spires which rise over the woods in every direction, prove
that this number of inhabitants extends over the whole country. The
cottages still continue neat and comfortable; not picturesque to a
painter's eye, but exhibiting the more delightful appearance of
individual prosperity. Their beauty is much increased by the quantity
of wood, or the variety of fruit-trees, with which the villages are
interspersed. There are many coal-pits in this country, and a great deal
of carriage of this valuable mineral on the principal roads. They
present a scene of infinitely more bustle and activity than the richest
parts of France. We met a great number of waggons, harnessed and
equipped like those in England; and the numbers of carriages reminded
us, in some degree, of the extraordinary appearance, in this respect,
which the approach to our own capital presents; a state of things widely
different from the desolate _chaussèes_ which the interior of France
exhibits. Every thing in the small towns and villages bore the marks of
activity, industry, and increasing prosperity. We passed with much
interest over the celebrated field of battle of Jemappe, where the
remains of Austrian redoubts are still visible.
Mons, the frontier town of Austrian Flanders, was once a place of great
strength, and underwent a dreadful siege during the wars of the Duke of
Marlborough; but its ramparts are now dismantled, according to the
ruinous policy of Joseph II. The square in the town is large, and has a
striking appearance, owing to the picturesque and varied forms of the
houses and public buildings of which it is formed. From the summit of
the great steeple, to which you are conducted by a stair of 353 steps,
there is a magnificent view over the adjacent country to a great
distance. It is for the most part green, owing to the immense quantity
of land under pasturage, and clothed in every direction with extensive
woods. At a considerable distance we were shewn the woods and heights of
_Malplaquet_, the scene of one of the Duke of Marlborough's great
victories, of which the people still spoke, as if it had been one of the
recent occurrences of the war. This town, when we visited it, was
completely filled with Prussian and Saxon troops, whose intrepid martial
appearance bespoke that undaunted character by which they have been
distinguished in the memorable actions of which this country has since
been the theatre.
On leaving Mons, on the road to Brussels, you quit the low swampy plain
in which the town is situated, and ascend a gentle hill, clothed with
wood, in the openings of which many beautiful views of the spires of the
city are to be seen. The hill itself is composed entirely of sand, and
would be reckoned a rising ground in most other countries, but it forms
a pleasing variety to the level plains of Flanders. From thence to
Brussels, a distance of 35 miles, the scenery is beautiful in the
greatest degree. Unlike the flat surface which prevails over most parts
of this country, it is charmingly varied by hills and vallies, adorned
by beautiful woods, whose disposition resembles rather that of trees in
a gentleman's park, than what usually occurs in an agricultural country.
The cottages, over the whole of this district, are particularly
pleasing; every where white-washed, clean and comfortable; half hid by a
profusion of fruit-trees, or the aged stems of elm and ash.
Brain-le-Compte, Halle, and a number of smaller towns through which the
road passes, are distinguished by the neatness of the houses, and the
number and opulence of the middling classes of society. The vallies are
admirably cultivated in agricultural or garden husbandry, and
interspersed with numerous cottages; the gentle slopes are laid out in
grass or pasture, and the uplands clothed with luxuriant woods. Upon the
whole, the scenery between Mons and Brussels was the most delightful we
had ever seen of a similar description, both from the richness and
extent of the cultivation; the appearance of public and private
property, which was unceasingly exhibited; the beautiful variety of the
ground, and the charming disposition of the woods which terminate the
view. The village spires, whose summits rise above the distant woods in
every direction, increased the effect which the objects of nature were
fitted to produce, both from the beauty of their forms themselves, and
the pleasing reflections which they awaken in the mind.
We passed through this beautiful country in a fine summer evening in the
middle of June. The heat of the day had passed: The shades of evening
were beginning to spread over the lowland country; the forest of
Soignies was still illuminated by the glow of the setting sun, while his
level rays shed a peaceful light over the woods which skirt the field of
WATERLOO. We little thought that the scene, which was now expressive
only of rest and happiness, should hereafter be the theatre of mortal
combat: that the same sun which seemed now to set amid the blessings of
a grateful world, should so soon illuminate a field of agony and death;
and that the ground which we now trod with no other feelings than
admiration for the beauty of nature, was destined to become the field of
deathless glory to the British name.
The state of agriculture from Cambray to Brussels, both in French and
Austrian Flanders, is admirable. No fallows are any where to be seen,
and in their place, green crops, of which beans, peas, carrots, &c. form
the principal part. These green crops are kept very clean, and all
worked by the spade or hoe, which furnishes employment to the immense
population which is diffused over the country. Crops of rye, which, when
we passed them in the middle of June, were in full ear, are every where
very common; indeed, rye bread seems to be the staple food of the
peasantry. Much wheat, barley, and oats, are also cultivated, with a
great deal of sainfoin and clover, which is never pastured, but cut, and
carried green into the stalls of the cattle. No inclosures are to be
seen, except round the orchards and gardens which surround the villages;
and, indeed, fences would be a useless waste of ground in a country
where every corner is valuable, and no cattle are ever to be seen in the
open fields. The soil seemed to be excellent throughout the whole
country; sometimes sandy, and sometimes, a rich loam; and the crop, both
of corn, beans, and grass, heavy and luxuriant. With the exception,
however, of the grain crops, which are generally drilled, the fields are
not nearly so clean as in the best parts of England.
The farm steadings and implements of husbandry in all parts of Flanders,
are greatly superior to those in France. The waggons are not only more
numerous on the roads, but greatly neater in their construction than in
France; the ploughs are of a better construction, and the farm offices
both more extensive, and in better repair. Every thing, in short,
indicated a much more improved and opulent class of agriculturists, and
a country in which the fundamental expenses of cultivation had long been
incurred.
Near Cambray, the wages of labour are one franc a-day. Near
Valenciennes, and from that to Mons, they are from 1 franc to 25 sous,
that is, from 10d. to 12-1/2d. From Mons to Brussels, and round that
town, from 1 franc to 30 sous, that is, from 10d. to 15d. The rent of
land was stated in French Flanders at 20 francs, and the price 1000
francs _per marcoti_; and from Valenciennes to Mons, from 35 to 50
francs; but we could never accurately ascertain what proportion a
marcoti bore to the English acre.
The size of the farms is exceedingly various in the districts of
Flanders which we have visited. From Cambray to Valenciennes, they were
called from 200 to 300 _marcotis_; but from Mons to Brussels, an
exceedingly well-cultivated district, they seldom exceed from 50 to 100
_marcotis_; which, as far as we could judge, was not above from 25 to 50
acres. That the size of the farms is in general exceedingly small,
appears obviously from the immense number of farm-houses which are every
where to be seen. The course and mode of cultivation appears to be
precisely the same on the great and the small farms.
The state of the people, both in French and Austrian Flanders, was most
exceedingly comfortable. Not the smallest traces of dirt are to be seen,
either in the exterior or the interior of the peasants dwellings. Their
dress, as in France, is in general neat and substantial, covered with a
light blue smock-frock, and without any appearance of abject want. The
women in general appeared handsome, and very well clad. Every thing, in
short, bespoke a rich, prosperous, and happy population.
BRUSSELS is a large, populous, and in many respects a handsome town. It
stands upon the side of a hill, the lower part being the old town, and
the higher the fashionable quarter. Near the centre of the old town is
placed a square of considerable size, surrounded by high antiquated
buildings of a most remarkable construction; and the _Hotel de Ville_,
which occupies nearly one of its sides, is ornamented by a high Gothic
spire of the lightest form, and the most exquisite proportions. The
Cathedral is large, and has two massy towers in front; but the effect of
the interior, which would otherwise be very grand, from its immense
size, is much injured by statues affixed to the pillars, and an
intermixture of red and white colours, with which the walls are painted.
In this Cathedral, as well as in the churches throughout Flanders which
we visited, we were much struck by the numbers of people who attended
service, and the earnestness with which they seemed to participate in
religious duty;--a spectacle which was the more impressive, from the
levity or negligence with which we had been accustomed to see similar
services attended in France.
The _Parc_, which is an immense square of splendid buildings, inclosing
a great space, covered with fine timber, is probably the most
magnificent square in Europe. The Royal Palace, and all the houses of
the nobility, are here situated. There is nothing of the kind, either in
Paris or London, which can be compared with this square, either in
extent, the beauty of the private houses, or the richness and variety of
the woods.
At Brussels, we saw 1500 British troops on parade in the great square.
We were particularly struck with the number and brilliant appearance of
the officers. It would be going too far to say, that they understood
their duty better than those of the allied armies; but they
unquestionably have infinitely more of the appearance and manners of
gentlemen. The proportion of officers to privates appeared much greater
than in the other European armies; but the common soldiers had not
nearly so sun-burnt; weather-beaten an appearance. Among the British
troops, the Highlanders resembled most nearly the swarthy aspect of the
foreign soldiers. The discipline of these troops was admirable; they
were much beloved by the inhabitants, who recounted with delight
numerous instances of their humanity and moderation. In this respect
they formed a striking contrast to the Prussians, whose abuses and
voracity were uniformly spoken of in terms of severe reprobation.
The ramparts at Brussels, especially in the upper parts of the town, are
planted with trees, and afford a delightful walk, commanding an
extensive view over the adjacent country. The favourite promenade at
Brussels, however, is the Allee Verte, situated two miles from the town,
on the road to Antwerp, which forms a drive of two miles in length,
under the shade of lofty trees. It was filled, when we saw it, with
numerous parties of officers of all nations, principally German and
British; and we could not help observing, how much more brilliant the
appearance of our own countrymen was, than that of their brethren in any
other service. Indeed they are taken from a different class of society:
in the continental states, men, from inferior situations, enter the army
with a view to obtain a subsistence; in the British service alone, men
of rank and fortune leave the enjoyment and opulence of peaceful life,
to share in the toils and the hardships of war.
The Chateau of Lacken, now the royal dwelling, stands on an eminence in
the vicinity of Brussels, commanding a delightful view over the environs
of the city. There are few views in Flanders so magnificent as that from
the summit of this palace. It is surrounded by beautiful gardens and
shrubberies, laid out in the English style, and arranged with much
taste.
The vicinity of Brussels is so much clothed with wood, as to resemble,
when seen from the spires of the city, a continued forest. To the
south-west, indeed, the whole country is covered with the vast forest of
_Soignies_, clothing a range of gentle hills, which stretch as far as
the field of Waterloo. The varieties of wood scenery which it exhibits,
are exceedingly beautiful; and in many places, the oaks grow to an
immense size, and present the most picturesque appearance. It was from
this forest that Bonaparte obtained the timber for his great naval
arsenal at Antwerp.
To the south of Brussels, in the direction of Liege, and in the environs
of that town, the country is covered with innumerable cottages, in the
neatest order, inhabited by manufacturers, who carry on, _in their own
houses_, the fabrics for which that city is so celebrated. These
cottagers have all their gardens and houses in property; and the
appearance of prosperity, which their dwellings uniformly exhibit, as
well as the neatness of their dress, and the costly nature of their
fare, demonstrate the salutary influence, which this intermixture of
manufacturing and agricultural occupation is fitted to have on the
character and habits of the lower orders of society. It resembles, in
this particular, the state of the people in the West Riding of
Yorkshire, and in the beautiful scenes of the vale of Gloucester.
In the neighbourhood of Brussels, the condition of the peasantry
appeared exceedingly comfortable. Their neat gardens, their substantial
dwellings, their comfortable dress, indicated here, as elsewhere in
Flanders, the effects of long-continued and general prosperity. Most of
these houses and gardens belong in property to the peasants; others are
hired from the proprietors of the ground; but when this is the case,
they generally have the advantage of a long lease. The peasants
complained, in the bitterest terms, of the taxes and contributions of
the French, stating that the public burdens had been more than
quadrupled since they were separated from the Austrian Government, of
which they still spoke in terms of affection and regret. The _impot
fonciere_, or land-tax, under the French, amounted to one-fifth of the
rent, or 20 _per cent_. The wages of labour were from 15 sous to one
franc a-day; but the labourer dined with the farmer, his employer. Most
of the land was laid out in garden cultivation, and every where tilled
with the utmost care. The soil appeared rich and friable; and the
crops, both of agricultural and garden produce, were extremely heavy.
The rent was stated as varying from 60 to 150 francs _journatier_,
which appeared to be about three-fourths of an acre.
One thing struck us extremely in the condition of the people, both here
and in other parts of Flanders--the sumptuous fare on which they live.
It is a common thing to see artisans and mechanics sitting down to a
dinner, at a table d'hôte, of ten or twelve dishes; such a dinner as
would be esteemed excellent living in England. The lower orders of the
people, the day labourers and peasants, seemed to live, generally
speaking, in a very comfortable manner. Vegetables form a large portion
of their food, and they are raised in large quantities, and great
perfection, in all parts of the country.
On leaving Brussels, we took the road to Malines and Antwerp. The
surface of the ground the whole way is perfectly flat, and much
intersected by canals, on whose banks much rich pasture is to be seen.
For the first six miles, the road is varied by chateaus and villas, laid
out in the stiff antiquated style of French gardening. The cultivation
between Brussels and Malines is all conducted in the garden style, and
with the most incomparable neatness; but the cottages are formed of wood
and mud, and exhibited more symptoms of dilapidation, than in any other
part of the country which we had seen. Whether this was the consequence
of the materials of which they are built, or was the result of some
local institution, we were unable to determine.
We saw a body of 3000 Prussian _landwehr_ enter Brussels, shortly before
we left the city. The appearance of these men was very striking. They
had just terminated a march of 14 miles, under a burning sun, and were
all covered with dust and sweat. Notwithstanding the military service in
which they had been engaged, they still bore the appearance of their
country occupations; their sun-burnt faces, their rugged features, and
massy limbs, bespoke the life of laborious industry to which they had
been habituated. They wore an uniform coat or frock, a military cap, and
their arms and accoutrements were in the most admirable order; but in
other respects, their dress was no other than what they had worn at
home. The sight of these brave men told, in stronger language than words
could convey, the grievous oppression to which Prussia had been
subjected, and the unexampled valour with which her people had risen
against the iron yoke of French dominion. They were not regular
soldiers, raised for the ordinary service of the state, and arrayed in
the costume of military life; they were not men of a separate
profession, maintained by government for the purposes of defence; they
were the _people of the country_, roused from their peaceful employments
by the sense of public danger, and animated by the heroic determination
to avenge the sufferings of their native land. The young were there,
whose limbs were yet unequal to the weight of the arms which they had
to bear; the aged were there, whose strength had been weakened by a life
of labour and care; all, of whatever rank or station, marched alike in
the ranks which their valour and their patriotism had formed. Their
appearance suited the sacred cause in which they had been engaged, and
marked the magnitude of the efforts which their country had made. They
were still, in some measure, in the garb of rural life, but the
determination of their step, the soldier-like regularity of their
motions, and the enthusiastic expression of their countenances,
indicated the unconquerable spirit by which they had been animated, and
told the greatness of the sufferings which had at last awakened
"The might that slumbers in a peasant's arm."
There is no spectacle in the moral history of mankind more interesting
or more sublime, than that which was exhibited by the people of the
north of Germany in the last war. During the progress of the disastrous
wars which succeeded the French revolution, the states of Germany
experienced all the miseries of protracted warfare, and all the
degradation of conquered power; but amidst the sufferings and
humiliation to which they were subjected, the might of Germany was
concentrating its power; the enthusiasm of her people was animating the
soldier's courage, and the virtue of her inhabitants was sanctifying the
soldier's cause: and when at last the hour of retribution arrived, when
the sufferings of twenty years were to be revenged, and the disgrace of
twenty years was to be effaced; it was by the energy of her people that
these sufferings were revenged, and by the sacrifices of her people,
that these victories were obtained. Crushed as they had been beneath the
yoke of foreign dominion; shackled as they were by the fetters of
foreign power, and unprotected as they long continued to be from the
ravages of hostile revenge; the people of PRUSSIA boldly threw off the
yoke, and hesitated not to encounter all the fury of imperial ambition,
that they might redeem the glory which their ancestors had acquired, and
defend the land which their forefathers had preserved. While Austria yet
hung in doubt between the contending Powers; while the fate of the
civilized world was yet pending on the shores of the Vistula, the whole
body of the Prussian people flew to arms; they left their homes, their
families, and all that was dear to them, without provision, and without
defence: they trusted in God alone, and in the justice of their cause.
This holy enthusiasm supported them in many an hour of difficulty and of
danger, when they were left to its support alone; it animated them in
the bloody field of Juterbock, and overthrew their enemies on the banks
of the Katzback; it burned in the soldier's breast under the walls of
Leipsic, and sustained the soldier's fortitude in the plains of
Vauchamp: it terminated not till it had planted the Prussian eagle
victorious on the ruins of that power, which had affected to despise the
efforts of the Prussian people.
The town of Malines is exceedingly neat, and ornamented by a great
tower, of heavy architecture, producing a striking effect from every
part of the adjoining country. The interior of the church, like that of
all the other Catholic churches, is impressive to an English spectator,
from the effect of its vast dimensions. The town was entirely filled by
Prussian soldiers, and landwehr of the Prussian corps d'armee of Bulow,
who went through their evolutions in the exactest discipline.
From Malines to Antwerp the country is under a higher system of
management, than in any other district of Flanders which we had seen. It
is thickly planted with trees, insomuch as, from an eminence, to have
the appearance of a continued forest. The landscape scenery, seen
through the openings of the wood, and generally terminating in a village
spire, is exceedingly beautiful, and reminded us of the scenes in
Waterloo's engravings. Great quantities of potatoes and beans are to be
seen in the fields, which are kept in the highest state of cultivation.
The number of villages is extremely great; but the people, though so
numerous, had all the appearance of being in a prosperous and happy
condition.
On approaching Antwerp, the trees and houses are all cut down, to give
room for the fire of the cannon-shot from the ramparts of the fortress.
We passed over this desolated space in the evening, soon after sunset,
when the spires of the city had a beautiful effect on the fading colours
of the western sky. High over all rose the spire of the cathedral, a
most beautiful piece of the lightest Gothic, of immense height, and the
most exquisite proportions. Though this building has stood for seven
centuries, the carving of the pinnacles, and the finishing of the
ornaments, are at this moment as perfect as the day they were formed;
and when seen in shadow on an evening sky, present a spectacle which
combines all that is majestic and graceful in Gothic architecture.
After passing through the numerous gates, and over the multiplied
bridges which surround this fortress, we found ourselves in the interior
of Antwerp; a city of great interest, in consequence of the warlike
preparations of which it had been the theatre, and the importance which
had been attached to it by both parties in the recent contest. It is an
extensive old city, evidently formed for a much more extensive commerce
than it has now for a long period enjoyed. The form of the houses is
singular, grotesque and irregular, offering at every turn the most
picturesque forms to a painter's eye. We were soon conducted to the
famous dockyard, constructed by Bonaparte, which had been the source of
so much uneasiness to this country; and could not help being surprised
at the smallness of the means which he had been able to obtain for the
overthrow of our naval power. The docks did not appear to us at all
large; but they are very deep, and during the siege, by the English and
Prussian troops, contained 20 ships of the line, besides 14 frigates.
When we saw them they were lying in the Scheldt, and being all within
two miles of each other, presented a very magnificent spectacle.
In the arsenal were 14 ships of the line on the stocks, of which seven
were of 120 guns; but these vessels were all demolished except one,
shortly after we left them, in virtue of an article in the treaty of
Paris. Bonaparte had for long been exerting himself to the utmost to
form a great naval depot at Antwerp; he had not only fortified the town
in the strongest possible manner, but collected immense quantities of
timber and other naval stores for the equipment of a powerful fleet. The
ships first built, however, had been formed of wood, which was so ill
seasoned, that, ever since their construction, above 200 carpenters had
been employed annually to repair the beams which were going to decay.
In the citadel, which is a beautiful fortification in the finest order,
we conversed with various English soldiers who had been in the attack on
Bergen-op-Zoom, of which they all spoke in terms of the utmost horror.
Its failure they ascribed not to any error in the plan of attack, which
they all agreed was most skilfully combined, but to a variety of
circumstances which thwarted the attack, after its success appeared to
have been certain. Our troops, they said, went round the ramparts, and
carried every battery; but neglecting to spike the guns, the French came
behind them, and turned the guns they had recently captured against
themselves. Much also was attributed to the hesitation occasioned by the
death of the principal officers, and the unfortunate effect of the
discovery of some spirit cellars, from which the soldiers could not be
restrained. We were much gratified, by hearing the warm and enthusiastic
manner in which even the private soldiers spoke of their gallant
commander, Sir Thomas Graham; While we admired the frank, open and
independent spirit which these English soldiers in garrison at Antwerp
evinced, we could not help observing, that they did not converse on
military matters with nearly the same intelligence, or evince the same
reflection on the manœuvres of war, as those of the French imperial
guard, with whom we had spoken in a former part of our journey.
Though such extensive naval preparations had been going forward for
years at Antwerp, there was not the slightest appearance of bustle at
activity in the streets, or on the quays of the city. These were as
deserted, as if Antwerp had been reduced to a fishing village,
indicating, in the strongest manner, that nothing but the habits of
commerce, and the command of the seas, can nurse that body of active
seamen, who form the only foundation of naval power.
There is a fine picture, by Oels, in the church of St Paul's at Antwerp;
but the church itself is built in the most barbarous taste. The
cathedral is a most magnificent building, both in the outside and
inside; and its spire, which is 460 feet in height, is probably the
finest specimen of light Gothic in the world. Its immense aisles were
filled at every hour of the day, by numbers of people, who seemed to
join in the service with sincere devotion, and exhibited the example of
a country, in which religious feeling was generally diffused among the
people--which formed a striking contrast to the utter indifference to
these subjects which universally prevails in France.
It was not a mere vain threat on the part of Napoleon, that he would
burn the English manufactures. We were informed at Antwerp by
eye-witnesses, that they had seen £. 90,000 worth of English goods
burnt at once in the great square of that city; all of which _had been
bought and paid for_ by the Flemish merchants. The people then spoke in
terms of great sorrow, of the ruin which this barbarous policy had
brought upon the people of the countries in which it was carried into
effect.
In the vicinity of Antwerp, we walked over the _Counter Dyke of
Couvestein_, which was the scene of such desperate conflicts between the
army of the Prince of Parma, and the troops of the United Provinces, who
were advancing to the relief of Antwerp. The interest arising from the
remembrance of this memorable struggle, was increased by the narrowness
of the ground on which the action was maintained, being a long dyke
running across the low country which borders the banks of the Scheldt
near Fort Lillo, and which alone of all the surrounding country, at the
time of the action, was not immersed in water. Every foot, therefore, of
the ground of this dyke which we trod, must have been the spot on which
a desperate struggle had been maintained. In casting our eyes back to
the distant spires of the city of Antwerp, we could not help entering
for an instant, into the feelings of the people who were then besieged;
and remembering that these spires, which now rose so beautifully on the
distant horizon, were then crowded with people, who awaited with
dreadful anxiety, in the issue of the action which was then pending, the
future fate of themselves and their children.
To those who take an interest in the delightful study of political
economy, and who have examined the condition of the people in different
countries, with a view to discover the causes of their welfare or their
suffering, there is no spectacle so interesting as that which the
situation of the people in Flanders affords. The country is uniformly
populous in the extreme; go where you will, you every where meet with
the marks of a dense population; yet no where are the symptoms of
general misery to be found; no where does the principle of population
seem to press beyond the limits assigned for the comfortable maintenance
of the human species. Flanders has exhibited, for centuries, the
instance of a _numerous, dense, and happy population_. It would perhaps
not be unreasonable to conclude, from this circumstance, that the
doctrines now generally admitted in regard to the increase of the human
species have been received with too little examination. Man possesses
in himself the principles requisite for the regulation of the increase
of the numbers of mankind; and where the influence of government does
not interfere with their operation, they are sufficient to regulate the
progress of population according to the interest and welfare of all
classes of the people.
END OF VOLUME FIRST.
EDINBURGH: Printed by JOHN PILLANS, James's Court.
TRAVELS IN FRANCE,
DURING THE YEARS 1814-15.
COMPRISING A
RESIDENCE AT PARIS DURING THE STAY OF THE ALLIED ARMIES,
AND
AT AIX, AT THE PERIOD OF THE LANDING OF BONAPARTE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED AND ENLARGED.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR MACREADIE, SKELLY, AND MUCKERSY, 52, PRINCE'S STREET;
LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN; BLACK, PARRY AND CO. T.
UNDERWOOD, LONDON; AND J. CUMMING, DUBLIN.
1816.
CHAPTER I.
JOURNEY TO AIX.
IT was thought advisable, by the gentleman who is now about to commence
his journal, to avoid making many remarks on the state of the country,
or the manners of the inhabitants, until he should have remained fixed
for a few months in France. In no country is it so difficult as there,
to obtain information regarding the most interesting points, whether
commerce, manufactures, agriculture, manners, or religion; and this
arises from the multitude of people of all descriptions, who are
willing, and who at least appear able, to afford you information.
Strange paradox. A Frenchman makes it a rule, never to refuse
information on any subject when it is demanded of him; and although he
may, in fact, never have directed his attention to the matter in
question, and may not possess the slightest information, he will yet
descant most plausibly, and then seeking some opportunity of bidding you
good day, he will fly off with the velocity of an arrow, leaving you
astonished at the talent displayed: But sit down and analyse what he has
said, and you will commonly find it the most thorough trifling--"_vox et
prœterea nihil_." This observation, however, I mean only to apply to the
information which a traveller obtains _en passant_; for there are
undoubtedly to be found in France, men of eminent talents and of solid
information; but these you can only pick out from the mass of common
acquaintances, by dint of perseverance, and by the assistance of time.
The result of the observations collected during a residence of five
months at Aix, in Provence, will be given at the end of the following
Journal.
JOURNAL.
As our present journey was undertaken principally for the benefit of my
health, it was necessary that we should travel slowly, and take
occasional rests. After our journey from Dieppe to the capital, we
remained five days in Paris for this purpose. The first part of this
book having conducted the reader by another route to Paris, and given a
better description of that city than I am able to supply, I have not
thought it necessary to insert the details of our journey thither; I
shall content myself with remarking, that we had already gained
considerable experience in French travelling, and were pretty well
prepared to commence our journey toward the south.--On the 7th of
November, therefore, we arranged matters for our departure with the
_voiturier_, or carriage-hirer, who agrees to carry us (six in number),
with all our baggage, which weighs nearly four cwt. to Lyons, a distance
of 330 miles, for the sum of 630 francs, or, at our exchange, nearly
L.30. As this bargain was made for us by Mr B----, a French gentleman,
it may afford a good standard for this style of travelling.
We travel at the rate of 10 or 12 leagues a-day; and for invalids or
persons wishing to see the country, this is by far the most pleasant, as
well as the most economical way. There are two other methods of
travelling, namely, _en poste_, which, though rapid, is very expensive;
the charge being, at least a horse, often more, for each person, and
very little baggage being taken; and the other is in a diligence, which,
as it travels night and day, would not do for us. The carriage we now
have is a large and commodious coach, very neat and clean, and we have
three good strong horses. Our journey has as yet been varied by very
little incident. The amusement derived from travelling in a foreign
country, and becoming gradually familiarised to foreign manners,--the
contrast between the style of travelling here, and that which you are
accustomed to in England,--the amusing groupes of the villagers, who
flock out of their houses, to see the English pass,--the grotesque and
ludicrous figures of the French beggars, who, in the most unbounded
variety of costume, surround the carriage the moment we stop,--and the
solemn taciturnity of Monsieur Roger, our coachman, who is an
extraordinary exception to the general vivacity of his nation; these are
the only circumstances which serve at present to exhilarate our spirits,
and to remove the tedium of French travelling.
Between Paris and Montargis, as we travelled during the day, we had a
good opportunity of seeing the country. But we passed through it, to be
sure, at an unfavourable season of the year. The vines were all
withered, and their last leaves falling off. The elm, oak, and maple,
were almost bare. There is not much fine wood in that part of the
country through which we passed; and on the side of the road, there were
many wild and sad looking swamps, with nothing but willow and poplars
docked off for the twigs. The chief produce seems to be in grapes and
wheat; the wheat here is further advanced than between Dieppe and Paris.
The cows are of the same kind, the horses smaller, weaker, and yet
dearer than those of Normandy; the agricultural instruments are massy
and awkward; their ploughing is, however, very neat and regular, though
not deep; their plough here has wheels, and seems easily managed; they
harrow the land most effectually, having sometimes 10 or 12 horses in
succession, each drawing a separate harrow over the same ground. The
farm-horses, though very poor to an English eye, are fortunately much
better than the horses for travelling. The stacks of grain, though
rarely seen, are very neatly built. We left the grand road at
Fontainbleau, and took the route by Nevers to Lyons. We have found it
hitherto by no means equal to the other. No stone causeway in the
middle, and at this time of the year, I should fear it is always as we
found it, very heavy and dirty.
Our journey hitherto has not allowed of our mixing much among or
conversing with the people; but still we cannot but be struck with the
dissimilarity of manners from those of our own country. The French are
not now uniformly, found the same merry, careless, polite, and sociable
people they were before the revolution; but we may trust that they are
gradually improving; and although one can easily distinguish among the
lower ranks, the fierce uncivilized ruffians, who have been raised from
their original insignificance by Napoleon to work his own ends, yet the
real peasantry of the country are generally polite.
At the inns, the valets and ostlers were for the most part old soldiers
who had marched under Napoleon; they seemed happy, or at least always
expressed themselves happy, at being allowed to return to their homes:
one of them was particularly eloquent in describing the horrors of the
last few months; he concluded by saying, "that had things gone on in
this way for a few months longer, Napoleon must have made the women
march." They affirm, however, that there is a party favourable to
Bonaparte, consisting of those whose trade is war, and who have lived by
his continuance on the throne; but that this party is not strong, and
little to be feared: Would that this were true! When we were in Paris,
there were a number of caricatures ridiculing the Bourbons; but these
miserable squibs are no test of the public feeling. Napoleon certainly
has done much for Paris; the marks of his magnificence are there every
where to be seen; but the further we travel, the more are we convinced
that he has done littler for the interior of the country.
There is about every town and village an air of desolation; most of the
houses seem to have wanted repairs for a long time. The inns must strike
every English traveller, as being of a kind entirely new to him. They
are like great old castles half furnished. The dirty chimneys suit but
ill with the marble chimney-pieces, and the gilded chairs and mirrors,
plundered in the revolution; the tables from which you eat are of ill
polished common wood; the linen coarse though clean. The cutlery, where
they have any, is very bad; but in many of the inns, trusting, no doubt,
to the well known expedition of French fingers, they put down only forks
to dinner.
We left Montargis at seven in the morning, and travelled very slowly
indeed. At five o'clock, after a very tedious journey, we arrived at
Briare, a distance of only 27 miles from Montargis. The landlord here
was the most talkative, and the most impudent fellow I ever saw.
Although demanding the most unreasonable terms, he would not let us
leave his house; at last he said that he would agree to our terms,
namely, 18 francs for our supper and beds: It is best to call it supper
in France, as this is their own phrase for a meal taken at night.
The road between Montargis and Briare, though not of hard mettle and
without causeway, is yet level and in good condition. The country,
except in the immediate vicinity of Briare, is flat and uninteresting;
no inclosures; the soil of a gravelly nature, mixed in some parts with
chalk. It seems, from the stubble of last year and the young wheat of
this, to be very poor indeed. There is here an odd species of wheat
cultivation, in which the grain, like our potatoes, is seen growing on
the tops of high separate ridges. It struck me that the deep hollows
left between each ridge, might be intended to keep the water. The
instruments of agriculture are quite the same as we have seen all along.
Almost all of the peasants whom we saw to-day wore cocked hats, and had
splendid military tails; we supposed, at first that they had all
_marched_. There are great numbers of soldiers returning to their homes,
pale, broken down and wearied. Some of them very polite, many of them
rough and ruffian-looking enough. About Briare, there are innumerable
vineyards, and yet we had very bad grapes; but that was our landlord's
fault, not that of the vines.
The rooms at this inn (Au Grand Dauphin), smoke like the devil, or
rather like his abode. It is a wretched place; the inn opposite, called
La Poste, is said to be better. The weather is now as cold here (10th of
November), as I have ever felt it in winter at home, and it is a more
piercing and searching cold.
We had last night a good deal of rain. The weather is completely broken
up, and we are at least three weeks or a month later than we ought to
have been.
* * *
We have arrived at Cosne to-night, (the 11th), after a journey through a
country better wooded, more varied, and upon the whole, finer than we
have seen yet on this side of Paris, though certainly not so beautiful
as Normandy. The road is pretty good, though not paved, excepting in
small deep vallies. It lies along-side of the river Loire, and on each
side, there are well cultivated fields, chiefly of wheat, but
interspersed with vineyards.
For the first time, this day we had a very severe frost in the morning,
but with the aid of the sun, which shone bright and warm, we enjoyed one
of the finest days I ever saw. I sat and chatted with the coachman, or
rather with Monsieur le Voiturier. I led the conversation to the past
and present state of France, and the character of Napoleon, and
immediately he, who till this moment appeared to be as meek and gentle
as a lamb, became the most eloquent and energetic man I have seen. It is
quite wonderful, how the feelings of the people, added to their habits
of extolling their own efforts, and those of Bonaparte, supply them with
language. They are on this subject all orators. He declared, that Paris
was sold by Marmont and others, but that we English do not understand
what the Parisians mean when they say that Paris was sold. They do not
mean that any one was paid for betraying his trust by receiving a bribe,
but that Marmont and others having become very rich under Bonaparte,
desired to spend their fortunes in peace, and had, therefore, deserted
their master. He said that Bonaparte erred only in having too many
things to do at once; but that if he had either relinquished the Spanish
war for a while, or not gone to Moscow, no human power would have _been
a match for him_, and even we in England would have felt this. He seemed
to think, that it was an easy thing for Bonaparte to have equipped as
good a navy as ours. He was quite insensible to the argument, that it
was first necessary to have commerce, which nourishes our mariners, from
among whom we have our fighting seamen. He said, that though _this was a
work of years for others, it would have been nothing for Napoleon_: In
short, he venerates the man, and says, that till the day when he left
Paris, he was the greatest of men. He says, he knows well that there is
still a strong party favourable to him among the military; yet that if
they can once be set down at their own firesides, they will never wish
to quit them, but that the danger will be, while they remain together in
great bodies.
To-day we saw several soldiers wounded, and returning to their homes in
carts; they were fierce swarthy looking fellows, but very merry, and
travelled singing all the way. To-morrow we expect to be at Nevers. At
Cosne, the only objects of curiosity to the traveller are the
manufactories of cutlery and ship anchors. The cutlery seems as good as
any we have seen, but far inferior to even our inferior English cutlery:
It is also dear. Thousands of boxes, with cutlery, were, immediately on
our arrival at the inn, presented to us. Their great deficiency is in
steel, for their best goods are nearly as highly polished as in England.
We bought here some very pretty little toys for children, made of small
coloured beads. We start to-morrow at six.----Distance about 19
miles to Cosne.
* * *
This day's journey (the 12th), was the most fatiguing and the least
interesting we have had. The country between Cosne and Nevers is, with
the exception of one or two fine views from the heights on the road, the
poorest, and, though well cultivated, has the least pretensions to
beauty of any we have seen, particularly in the vicinity of Pouilly. It
seems also to be nearly as poor as it is ugly. The soil is gravelly,
with a mixture of chalk, and there occurs what I have not yet elsewhere
seen, a great deal of fallow land, and even some common. The face of the
country is considerably diversified by old wood, but we have only seen
one plantation of young trees since we left Paris. The instruments of
agriculture and carriage the same as before mentioned. The farm horses
good. There seems a scarcity of milk, but this may be from the winter
having set in. At the inn here I met with a young officer, who although
only (to appearance) 17 or 18, had been in the Spanish war, at Moscow,
and half over the world. He struck his forehead, when he said, [4]"Nous
n'avons plus la guerre." There were at the inn here a number of officers
and soldiers of the cavalry. Their horses are not to be compared with
ours, either in size or beauty, and those of their officers are not so
good, by any means, as the horses of our men in the guards.----
Distance, 34 miles--to Nevers.
* * *
We went to walk in the town this morning, the 13th. The description of
one French town on the Sunday will serve for all which we have seen.
They are every day sufficiently filthy, but on Sunday, from the
concourse of people, more than commonly so. They never have a pavement
to fly to for clean walking, and for safety from the carriages. If you
are near a shop, a lane, or entry when a carriage comes along, you may
fly in, if not, you must trust to the civility of the coachman, who, if
polite, will only splash you all over. On Sundays, their markets are
held the same as on other days, and nearly all the shops had their doors
open, but _their windows shut_. Thus they cheat the Devil, and, as they
think, render sufficient homage to him who hath said, on that day "thou
shalt do no manner of work." Yet while all this is going on, the
churches are open, and those who are inclined go in, and take a minute,
a quarter, half an hour, or an hour's devotion, as they think fit. We
entered the nearest of these churches, and saw, what is always to be
seen in them, a great deal, at least, of the outward shew of religion,
and something in a few individuals of the congregation which looked like
real devotion. After church, we went to the convent of St Mary, and were
all admitted, both ladies and gentlemen. The nuns there are not, by any
means, strictly confined; they are of that description who go abroad and
attend the sick. Their pensioners (chiefly children from four to
sixteen) are allowed to go and see their friends; and they were all
presented to us. They are taught to read, write, work, &c. and are well
fed and clothed. This convent was very neat and clean. The building
formed a complete square, and the ground in the interior was very
beautifully laid out as a garden. The cloisters were ornamented with
pots of roses and carnations in full bloom, with the care of which the
young pensioners amused themselves. They have a very pretty small
chapel, over the outer door of which is written, [5]"Grand silence;" and
over the inner this inscription; whose menacing promises is so ill
suited to the spirit and temper of its conclusion: "Ah, que ce maison
est terrible, c'est la maison de Dieu, et la porte du ciel." The holy
sisters were of all ages, and many of them pretty--one, the handsomest
woman I have seen in France.
The ladies are just returned from a longer walk, and report the town to
be ugly, and the streets insufferably dirty. Its manufactures are china,
glass, and enamelled goods; toys of glass beads, and little trifles. The
shopkeepers are, as in every town we have been at, perfect Jews, devoid
of any thing like principle in buying and selling. We are every day
learning more and more how to overcome our scruples with regard to
_beating them down_. They always expect it, and only laugh at those who
do not practise it.
* * *
This day we left Nevers at six in the morning. It appears to be a large
town, when viewed from the bridge over which we crossed; but it is far
from being a fine town in the interior. The streets are, like all French
streets, narrow, and the houses have a look of antiquity, and a want of
all repair; nothing like comfort, neatness, or tidiness, in any one of
them. This is a melancholy desideratum in France, a want for which
nothing can compensate. The road this day conducted us through a finer
district than we have observed on this side of Paris; more especially
between Nevers and St Pierre, where we have travelled through a richer
and more beautiful country than we have yet seen. No longer the sand,
and gravel, and chalk, which we have long been accustomed to, but a dark
rich soil over a bed of freestone. Here also all the land is well
enclosed. I have not yet been able to find the reason of this sudden
change in the manner of preserving the fields: The face of the country
is also more generally wooded; but from the necessity the French are
under of cutting down whatever wood they find near the towns for their
fires, all the fine trees are ruined in appearance, by their branches
being lopped off: The effect of this on the appearance of the country is
very sad.--Still we find a want of that agreeable alternation of hill
and dale, of the enclosed meadows, and wooded vallies; of the broad and
beautiful rivers and the small winding streams, which, as the finest
features in their native landscape, have become necessary to a Scotch or
an English eye.
The dress of the women is here different from what we have elsewhere
seen: the peasants' wives wearing large gipsey straw hats, very much
turned up behind and before; the men have still the immense
broad-brimmed black felt affairs, more like umbrellas than Christian
hats. At the inn here, I saw a number of wounded soldiers returning to
their homes; one of them, I observed, had his feet outside of his shoes.
On entering into conversation with him, he told me that his toes had
been nearly frozen off, but _that he expected to get them healed_: poor
fellow, he was not above twenty. He told me that all the _young
conscripts_ were delighted to return to their homes, and that only the
old veterans were friends to the war.--I hope this may be true, but I
doubt it. The country here shows that the winter is not so far advanced;
many of the trees are still green; the roads had become heavy with the
rain that has fallen; we have had two days hard frost, but to-day the
weather is mild, and the air moist. We were recommended to the Hotel des
Allies here, but preferred stopping at the first good-looking inn we
found, as in great towns things are very dear at the houses of great
resort; we have had a very good supper and tolerable lodgings for 18
francs.
To-morrow, we set out at seven.--We find our way of travelling tedious;
but I think in summer it would be by far the best. Our three horses
seldom take less than 10, sometimes 13 hours to their day's journey, of
from 28 to 32 miles; but our carriage is large and roomy; and had we any
thing like comfort at our inns, as at home, we should find the
travelling very pleasant. The greatest annoyance arises from your having
always to choose from the two evils, of being either shamefully imposed
upon, or of having to bargain before-hand for the price of your
entertainment.
* * *
It was near eight o'clock this morning, the 16th, before we got under
weigh, and according to our coachman's account, we had been delayed by
the horses being too much fatigued the night before. He continued to
proceed so slowly, that we only reached Varrenes at four o'clock, a
distance of 22 miles from Moulins, where we had last slept. Moulins is
the finest town we have seen since we left Paris. The streets are there
wider, and the houses, though old and black, are on a much better plan,
and in better repair than any we have passed through; there is also
somewhat of neatness and cleanliness about them. It is famous for its
cutlery, and has a small manufacture of silk stockings; we saw some of
the cutlery very neat and highly polished in some parts, but coarse and
ill finished in others. The variety of shapes which the French give
their knives is very amusing.
The road between Moulins and Varrenes is through a much prettier country
than we have seen since we left Paris; there is more wood, with
occasional variety of orchards and vineyards and corn fields. The
ploughing, is here carried on by bullocks, and these are also used in
the carts. All the country is enclosed, and the lands well dressed. The
wheat is not nearly so far advanced here, which must arise from its
being more lately sowed, for the winter is only commencing; many of the
trees are still in fall leaf.
We cannot well judge of any change of climate, as we have just had a
change from hard frost to thaw; but every thing has the appearance of a
milder atmosphere. I enquired into the reason of the want of hedges
hitherto, and their abundance here, and was told, that it arose from the
greater subdivision of property as well as from the number of cows: that
every man almost had his little piece of land, and his cow, pigs, hens,
&c. and that they could not afford to have herds. The yoke of the
bullocks here, is not, as in India, and in England, placed on the neck
and shoulders, but on the forehead and horns: this, though to appearance
the most irksome to the poor animals, is said here to be the way in
which they work best. The sheep are very small, and of a long-legged and
poor kind: the hogs are the poorest I have ever seen; they are as like
the sheep as possible, though with longer legs, and resembling
greyhounds in the drawn-up belly and long slender snout; they seem
content with wondrous little, and keep about the road sides, picking up
any thing but wholesome food.
The cottages on the road, and in the small towns, are generally very
dirty, and inhabited by a very motley and promiscuous set of beings; the
men, women, children, indeed pigs, fowls, &c. all huddled together. The
pigs here appear so well accustomed to a cordial welcome in the houses,
that when by chance excluded, you see them impatiently rapping at the
door with their snouts.
* * *
We left Varrenes this morning, at six o'clock, and entered on a new
country, which presented to us a greater variety of scenery. The road
between Varrenes and St Martin D'Estreaux is almost all the way among
the hills, which are often covered to the top with wood. After
travelling for so long a time through a country which was almost
uniformly flat, our sensations were delightful in again approaching
something like a hilly district. The roads we found extremely bad, and
although we have had rain, I do not think that their condition is to be
ascribed to the weather. They want repair, and appear to have been
insufficient in their metal from the first. We were obliged here to have
a fourth horse, which our coachman ordered and paid for; he went with us
as far as Droiturier, and then left us. We made out 28 miles of bad
road, between six in the morning and four in the evening. The hilly
country throughout is extremely well cultivated, and the soil apparently
pretty good. France has indeed shewn a different face from what an
Englishman would expect, after such a draining of men and money.
In our route to-day, the country became very interesting, the swelling
hills were beautiful, and the first clear stream we have seen in France
winded through a wooded valley, along whose side we travelled. Many
little cottages were scattered up and down in the green intervals of the
woods, or crept up the brows of the hills; and after the monotonous
plains we had passed, the whole scene was truly delightful. At the inn
at La Palisse, I met with a very pleasant French lady, who strongly
advised me to avoid Montpellier, as the winds there are very sharp in
winter; she said two friends of her's had been sent from it on account
of complaints contracted there. She recommended Nice.
* * *
(_Thursday_, 17th.)--The road to-day was through ranges of hills, and,
for the latter part of it, we were obliged to have a fourth horse. The
road very heavy in most places, and in some wretchedly ill-paved, with
stones of unequal size, and not squared. From the top of these hills the
view of the several vallies through which we passed was very beautiful,
though certainly not equal in beauty to Devonshire, or to some parts of
Perthshire, and other of the more fertile districts in Scotland: the
soil far from good, and the crops of wheat thin;--yet there is not an
atom of the soil lying waste, the hills being cultivated up to the
summit. The cultivation is still managed by oxen, as is the carriage of
farm produce, and all kinds of cart-work. They have had a sad mortality
among the cattle about St Germain L'Epinàsse; and all things appear to
have been affected by this disaster, for we found the milk, butter,
fowls, grain, every thing very dear indeed. In France, when a disease
seizes the cattle, parties of soldiers are sent to prevent the people
from selling their cattle, or sending them to other parts of the
country. One of these parties (a small troop of dragoons) we met on the
road.
On our route to-day, we crossed the Loire at a pretty large and busy
town, called Roanne. The river here is very large, but has only a wooden
bridge over it: there are some fine arches, forming the commencement of
a most magnificent new stone bridge, the work of Napoleon; the work had
the appearance of having been some time interrupted. Alas, that the good
King cannot continue such works!
Here, for the first time, we saw coals, and in great quantity; the boats
on which they are carried, are long, square flat-bottomed boxes.
Although in a mountainous country, and with a poor soil, the houses of
the peasants were here much better than any we have seen, though a good
deal out of repair; they are high and comfortable, having many of them
two flats, and all with windows. We saw a number of fields in which the
people were turning up and dressing the soil with spades: This, and
indeed many other things in this mountainous part of the country,
reminded me of parts of the Highlands of Scotland, and the island of St
Helena. But it would not be easy to conceive yourself transported to
those parts of the world, when here you every now and then encounter a
peasant in a cocked hat, with a red velvet coat, or with blue velvet
breeches: this proclaims us near Lyons, the country of silks and
velvets. The climate is very delightful at present; during a great part
of to-day, I sat on the box with _Monsieur le Voiturier_, who is now
become so attached to us, that I think he will go with us to our
journey's end. He is a most excellent, sober and discreet man, and has
given us no trouble, and ample satisfaction. To-day, we passed two very
pretty clear streams. The country seats are numerous here, but none of
those that we have yet seen are fine; they are either like the very old
English manor-houses, or if of a later date, are like large
manufactories; a mass of regular windows, and all in ruinous condition;
nothing like fine architecture have we yet met with. To-morrow we start
again at six, and hope to sleep within four leagues of Lyons.----
Distance 34 miles--to St Simphorien de Lay.
* * *
This morning, we set off, as usual, at six, and only made out in five
hours a distance of 16 miles, arriving at the small town of Tarrare,
which is beautifully situated in the bosom of the hills. This difficulty
in travelling is occasioned by the road being extremely precipitous. It
winds, however, for several miles very beautifully through the valley,
by the banks of a clear stream; and the hills which rise on each side,
are in many places cultivated to the top, while others are richly
wooded: towards the bases they slope into meadows, which are now as
green as in the middle of summer, and where the cows are grazing by the
water-side. The air is warm and pleasant, the sky unclouded, and the
light of a glorious sun renders every object gay and beautiful. This
valley is, I think, much more beautiful than any part of France we have
yet seen. Through the passes in the hills, we have had some very fine
peeps at the country to which we are travelling. Every inch of the
ground on these mountains is turned to good account; as the grass, from
the soil and exposure, is very scanty, the peasants make use of the same
method of irrigating as at St Helena. Where there is found a spring of
water, they form large reservoirs into which it is received, and from
these reservoirs they lead off small channels, which overflow the field,
and give an artificial moisture to the soil. The houses of the peasants
are still excellent, but there appears a great want of cattle. The
fields are ploughed with oxen, very small and lean; we had two of them
to assist us on the way from St Simphorien to Pain Bouchain.
At Tarrare, I am sorry to say, we found a want of almost every comfort.
It is a pretty large town, neater in exterior appearance than any we
have seen, but very dirty within; it is famous for its muslins and
calicoes.----All this day we have had nothing but constant ascending
and descending; the country occasionally very fine, and always well
cultivated. The ploughs here are very small and ill made; they have no
wheels, and are drawn by oxen. Some of the valleys in our route to-day
would be beyond any thing beautiful, if varied with a few of those fine
trees, which we are accustomed to meet with every day in England and
Scotland; but the manner in which the French trees are cut, clipped, and
hacked, renders them very disgusting to our eyes. I have not seen one
truly fine tree since we left Paris, about the environs of which there
are a few. There is also a great scarcity of gentlemen's seats, of
castles and other buildings, and of gardens of every kind. France, one
would suppose, ought to be the country of flowers; but not one flower
garden have we yet seen.----Distance about 31 miles--to the
Half-way-House, between Arras and Salvagny.
* * *
(_Saturday, 18th._)--We left the inn at the half-way village, whose name
I forgot to ask, between Arras and Salvagny, at six this morning, and
arrived at Lyons at half-past ten. On the subject of to-day's route very
little can be said. The first part of it conducted over a long
succession of very steep hills, for about four miles, after which we
descended through a fine varied country to the city of Lyons.----
Distance, 16 miles to Lyons.
Lyons is certainly a fine town, although, like Paris, it has only a few
fine public buildings, among a number of very old and ruinous-looking
houses. It is chiefly owing to the ideas of riches and commerce with
which both of these towns _are connected_, that we would call them
_fine_, for they have neither fine streets nor fine ranges of houses. I
need not mention, that Lyons is the place of manufacture for all kinds
of silks, velvets, ribbons, fringes, &c. But here, as at many
manufactories, things bought by retail are as dear, or even dearer, than
at Paris. The ladies of our party had built castles in the air all the
way to Lyons; but they found every thing dearer than at Paris, and
almost as dear as in England.
Now that I have seen a little of the manners and dress of the people in
the two largest towns in France, I may hazard a few observations on
these subjects. I think it is chiefly among the lower ranks that the
superior politeness of the French is apparent. Although you still find
out the ruffians and banditti who have figured on the stage under
Napoleon, yet the greater, by far the greater number, are mild,
cheerful, and obliging. A common Frenchman, in the street, if asked the
way to a place, will generally either point it out very clearly, or say,
"Allow me to accompany you, Sir." Among the higher ranks of society you
will find many obliging people; but you will also discover many whose
situation alone can sanction your calling them gentlemen. There
appears, moreover, in France, to be a sort of blending together of the
high and low ranks of society, which has a bad effect on the more
polite, without at all bettering the manners of the more uncivilized. To
discover who are gentlemen, and who are not, without previously knowing
something of them, or at least entering into conversation, is very
difficult. In England, all the middling ranks dress so well, that you
are puzzled to find out the gentleman. In France, they dress so ill in
the higher ranks, that you cannot distinguish them from the lower. One
is often induced to think, that those must be gentlemen who wear orders
and ribbons at their buttons, but, alas! almost every one in France at
the present day has one of these ribbons. In the dress of the women
there is still less to be found that points out the distinction of their
ranks. To my eye, they are all wretchedly ill dressed, for they wear the
same dark and dirty-looking calicoes which our Scotch maid-servants wear
only on week days. This gives to their dress an air of meanness; but
here the English ought to consider, that these cotton goods are in
France highly valued, and very dear, from their scarcity. Over these
dresses they wear (at present) small imitation shawls, of wool, silk,
or cotton. They have very short petticoats, and shew very neat legs and
ankles, but covered only with coarse cotton stockings, seldom very
white; often with black worsted stockings. I have not seen one
handsomely dressed woman as yet in France; the best had always an air of
shabbiness about her, which no milliner's daughter at home would shew.
They are said to dress much more gaily in the evening. When we mix a
little more in French society, we shall be able to judge of this.
This want of elegance and richness in dress, is, I think, one of the
marks of poverty in France. I have mentioned before the ruinous
appearance of the villages and houses. The excessive numbers of beggars
is another. The French themselves say that there is a great want of
money in France; they affirm that there is no scarcity of men, and that
with more money the French could have fought for many years to come.
They certainly are the vainest people in the universe; they have often
told me, _that could Bonaparte have continued his blockade of the
Continental trade a few months more, England would have been undone_.
They sometimes confess, that they would have been rather at a loss for
Coffee, Sugar, and Cotton, had we continued our war with the Americans,
who were their carriers. The want of the first of these articles would
annoy any country, but in France they cannot live without it: in England
they might.
* * *
This day, _Monday_ the 20th, we left Lyons at one o'clock in the
forenoon, travelling in most unfavourable weather, and through almost
impassable streets. The situation of Lyons is beautiful; the site of the
town is at the conflux of the Soane and the Rhone; a fine ridge of hills
rises behind the city; the innumerable houses which are scattered up and
down the heights, the fine variety of wood and cultivation, and the
little villages which you discern at a distance in the vallies, give it
the appearance of a romantic, yet populous and delightful neighbourhood.
We were not able to see much of the interior of the town; but in passing
once or twice through the principal streets, and more particularly in
leaving the town, we had a good view of the public buildings. Many of
them are very fine, and the whole town has an appearance of wealth, the
effect of commerce. But a better idea of the wealth is given, by the
innumerable loads of goods of different kinds, which you meet with on
the roads in the vicinity of this favoured city, on the Paris and
Marseilles sides of the town. The roads are completely ploughed up at
this season of the year, and almost impassable. The waggoners are even a
more independent set of men than with us in England; they keep their
waggons in the very middle of the road, and will not move for the
highest nobleman in the land; this, however, is contrary to the police
regulations. The land carriage here is almost entirety managed by mules.
These are from 13 to 14 hands high, and surpass in figure and limb
anything I could have imagined of the sons and daughters of asses. The
price of these animals varies from L.10 to L.40, according to size and
temper. They are found of all colours; but white, grey, and bay are the
most uncommon. Our journey this day was only as far as Vienne, a pretty
large village, or it might be called a town. We entered it at night, and
the rain pouring down upon us. These are two very great evils in French
travelling; for either of them puts you into the hands of the
innkeepers, who conceive, that at night, and in such weather, you must
have lodging speedily, at any price. At the first inn we came to, we met
with a reception, (which, to those accustomed to the polite and grateful
expression, with which in arriving at an English inn, you are received
by the attentive host or hostess), was altogether singular. The landlady
declared, with the voice and action of a virago, that at this time of
night, the highest guests in the land should not enter her roof upon any
terms. The landlord, on the contrary, behaved with great politeness,
entreated not to take offence at his wife's uncommon appearance. "C'est
seulement un tête chaud, Monsieur, mais faites moi l'honeur d'y entrer."
We accordingly did so; and this was the signal for the commencement of a
scene in the interior of the inn, which was probably never equalled in
the annals of matrimonial dissension. The landlady first gave a kind of
prefatory yell, which was only a prelude of war-whoop, introductory to
that which was to follow. She then began to tear her hair in handfuls;
and kept alternately brandishing knives, forks, pots, logs of wood, in
short, whatever her hand fell upon in the course of her fury, at her
poor passive help-mate, who appeared to consider the storm with a
nonchalance, which evidently could only have been produced by very long
experience; while he kept saying to us all the time, [6]_"Soyez
tranquille, Monsieur; ce n'est rien que cela."_ At length he commenced
getting ready our supper, and I entered into conversation with a very
great man, the mayor of the village, who, _adorned with a splendid order
at his breast_, was quietly bargaining for his supper. Nothing more
completely astonishes an Englishman than this extraordinary mixture of
all ranks of society, which takes place at the kitchen fire of a French
inn. You will there see, not only sitting, but familiarly conversing
together, officers and gentlemen, coachmen, waggoners, and all classes
of people, each addressing the other as _Monsieur_. The mayor here,
being, to all appearance, a most communicative fellow, was easily got on
the politics of the day. I began by enumerating the blessings of peace,
and by extolling the character of the present King, in all of which he
seemed to join with heart and soul. He told me how Bonaparte treated the
mayors of the different towns,--how he would raise them up at all hours
of the night,--how he forced them to seize on grain wherever it was
found. In short, he abused him in the vilest terms. I put in an
observation or two in his favour, when suddenly my friend whispered
me,--"Sir, to be frank with you, he was the greatest man ever lived, and
the best ruler for France." I encouraged him a little, by assenting to
all he said, and I found him a staunch friend of Napoleon, anxious for
his return: I have no doubt, that time-serving gentlemen like these,
would wish for nothing more. It appeared to me, that his highness, the
mayor, was in very high spirits, either from wine, or that it was his
nature--however, "In vino veritas."----Distance, nineteen miles to
Vienne.
* * *
We had a miserable lodging at this vile inn, (Hotel du Parc at Vienne.)
We left it with pleasure, this morning, (_Tuesday_ the 21st), although
the weather continued most unfavourable; yet any thing was better than
remaining in such a house. The day continued to rain without
intermission; and we made out with difficulty about 30 miles, to St
Vallier. The country through which we passed to-day, is the most bare
and barren we have seen, particularly when we approached St Vallier. The
soil, a deep gravel, producing nothing but grapes, and a wretched scanty
crop of wheat. The grapes, however, are here the finest for wine in
France. It is here that the famous wines of Cotè Rotie and Hermitage are
made. To the very summits of the hills, you see this wretched looking
soil enclosed with stone dykes, and laid out in vineyards. We tasted
some of the grapes here, and though out of season, we found them very
fine; they were of a small black kind called Seeràn.
The woman at the inn here, was sent for from the church, to see whether
she would receive us on our terms of 18 francs, which is what we now
always pay; having asked 20, we settled with her, and she went back to
her devotions. We have now had three days of continued rain, which
renders travelling very uncomfortable, and the roads most wretched. We
still rise every morning at five, and are on the road at six. The air is
mild, but very damp. The honey of Narbonne, got at Lyons, is the finest
in France. I forgot to mention, that at Lyons we tried the experiment of
going to the _table d'hôte_. We ought not, however, to form the opinion
of a good _table d'hôte_ from the one of the Hotel du Parc. It was
mostly composed of what are here called _Pensionaires_; people who dine
there constantly, paying a smaller sum than the common rate of three
francs. The company was, therefore, rather low, and the table scantily
provided; but I should think, that for gentlemen travellers, a _table
d'hôte_, where a good one is held, would be the best manner of
dining.----Distance 30 miles to St Vallier.
* * *
_Wednesday_, the 22d.--We left St Vallier at half past six in the
morning, and only reached St Valence, a distance of 23 miles, by five
o'clock. This delay was occasioned by the heavy fall of rain during
these four last days, and by there being no bridge over the Isere,
within four or five miles of Valence. The former bridge, (a most
beautiful one, though only of wood), had been burnt down, by General
Augereau to intercept the progress of the Austrians. The French appear
to hate Augereau as much as Marmont; they say he was a traitor to
Napoleon, to whom he owed every thing. The country through which we
passed to-day, was as plain and uninteresting as yesterday's, though
still all cultivated. Nothing but vines on the hills, and the plains
almost bare--still gravelly. We found the Isere much swollen by the
rain. The contrivance for carrying over the carts and carriages, is
exceedingly simple and beautiful: Three very high trees are formed into
a triangle, such as we raise for weighing coals. One of these is placed
on each side of the river, and a rope passes over a groove at the top,
and is fixed down at each side of the river; to this rope that crosses
the river is attached a block and pulley, and to this pulley is fixed
the rope of the boat. The stream tries by its rapidity to carry the boat
down; the rope across prevents this; and it therefore slides across,
with a regular though rapid motion.
It appears to me that we are getting into a poorer country in every
respect; for the inns are worse, the food worse, the roads worse, &c.
There seems a want of poultry as well as butcher meat. Mutton here is
very poor. Our inn to-night is the best we have seen since we left
Lyons; it is at the Golden Cross, outside the town of Valence, and is
neatly kept and well served. The waiter here had served in the army for
six years. He says, there are indeed many of the soldiers who wish for
war; but that he really believes there are as many who wish for peace: I
have little faith in this. We observed this morning a large party of men
returning from the galleys, having passed the time of their
imprisonment. They were all uniformly dressed in red flannel clothes and
small woollen caps, and attended by gens-d'armes.----Distance 23
miles--to St Valence.
* * *
_Thursday_, the 23d.--We left St Valence well enough pleased with our
lodging at the Golden Cross. It is, however, an exception to the bad set
of inns we have lately been at. In the kitchen here, which I entered
from curiosity, as the ladies went up stairs to the parlour, I found, as
usual, a most extraordinary mixture of company. I listened, without
joining at all in the conversation. The theme of discourse was a report
that had been circulated, that all the young troops were to hold
themselves in readiness again to take up arms. The only foundation I
could find for this report was, _that a drum had been beat for some
reason or other that evening._ This was a good opportunity of attending
to the state of the public feeling here;--all and every one seemed
delighted at the thoughts of war, provided it was with the Austrians.
One man (a shopkeeper to appearance), said, that his son, a trumpeter,
when he heard the drum, leapt from his seat, and, dancing about the
room, exclaimed, [7]"La guerre! la guerre!" On the route this morning,
we met with a small party of five or six soldiers returning to their
homes; two of them had lost their right arms, and two others were lamed
for life. They all agreed that they would never have wished for peace;
and that even in their present miserable state they would fight. They
were very fine stout fellows, about 40 years of age; but they had the
looks of ruffians when narrowly examined.
In the same inn the hostler, who had only fought one year, was as
anxious for a continuation of peace as the others were for war. The wife
of one of these soldiers gave a most lamentable description of the
horrors of the last campaign, and ended by praying for a continuation of
the peace.