If Napoleon did not possess feeling, or _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.

least anxious that the people of France should believe that he had these

good qualities. It is said that, on the evening before he left Paris on

his last campaign, he sent for the tragedian Talma, and had taught to

him the action, features and aspect which he the next day employed when

he left his wife and child to the care of the national guard. The

following scene will at once show his desire to be esteemed generous,

and his utter meanness of character:--[34]"Un de ses Ministres l'aborde

un jour et lui presente un rapport qu'il avait desiré; il s'agissait

d'une conspiration contre sa personne. J'etais present à cette scene. Je

m'attendais, je l'avoue, à le voir entrer en fureur, fulminer contre les

traitres, menacer les magistrats, et les accuser de negligence. Point du

tout; il parcourt le papier sans donner le moindre signe d'agitation.

Jugez de ma surprise, ou plutôt quelle douce emotion j'eprouvais quand

il fit entendre ces paroles touchantes et sublimes:--"Monsieur le Comte,

l'etat n'a point souffert; les magistrats n'ont point etè insultés; ce

n'est donc qu'à ma personne qu'ils en voulaient; je les plains de ne

point savoir que tous mes vœux tendent au bonheur de la France; mais

tout homme peut s'egarer. Dites aux ingrats que je leurs pardonne. Mons.

le Conte aneantissez la procedure." Maintenant je defie le royaliste le

plus fidele qui seroit temoin d'un proçede si magnanime, de ne point

dire, si le ciel dans sa colere devait un usurpateur a la France;

remercions d'avoir du celui ci. Arrete malhereux, tes yeux ont vu, tes

oreilles ont entendu, ne crois rien de tout; mais deux jours apres

trouve toi, au lever de ce hero, si magnanime, si peu avide de se

veuger--on ouvre, le voici, la foule des courtisans l'environne, tout le

monde fixe les yeux sur lui. Sa figure est decomposée, tous les muscles

de son visage sont en contraction, tout son ensemble est farouche et

colere. Un silence funebre regne dans l'assemblée. Le Prince n'a point

encore parlè, mais il promene des regardes sur la groupe: il appeicoit

le meme officier, qui deux jours avant lui avait presente le rapport,

"Monsieur le Conte, (dit il), ces laches conspirateurs sont ils

executés? Leurs complices sont ils aux fers? Les bourreaux on ils donnè

un nouvel example a qui voudrait imiter ceux qui veuleut a ma personne?"

A distinguishing feature in Napoleon's character was unnecessary

cruelty; of this the campaign in Moscow, (of which Labaume's narrative

is a true though highly-coloured picture), the slaughter of the Turks in

Egypt, the poisoning of his invalids, and the death of every one who

stood in his way, are sufficient and notorious proofs. St Cloud was in

general the scene of his debaucheries. The following anecdote was

related by Count Rumford to a gentleman of my acquaintance, and may be

depended on as correct; for at the time that it happened, Count Rumford

was in lodgings on the spot. Napoleon had brought from Paris a beautiful

girl belonging to the opera; he had carried her into one of the arbours

of the garden. Many of the little boys about St Cloud were in habits of

climbing up among the trees, whether merely as a play, or from curiosity

to see the Emperor. On leaving the arbour with his favourite, Napoleon

saw one of these boys perched upon a high tree above him. He flew

straight to one of the gates, and bringing the sentinel who was

stationed there, he pointed out the boy, exclaiming, "Tirez sur ce b----

la." The order was executed, and the boy never more seen.

But for no one act did he incur the hatred of the French in such a

degree as for the murder of the Duke d'Enghien; in committing this

crime, not only the laws of humanity, but the laws of nations were

violated.

This branch of the Royal Family was under a foreign power; he could by

no means be esteemed a subject of Bonaparte. Even the family of

Bonaparte, who, (as we shall presently see), did not possess many good

qualities, were shocked with this crime; they reproached him with it;

and Lucien said to him, [35]"Vous voulez dont nous faire trainer sur la

claye."

The treatment of the Pope, of Pichegru, of Georges, of Moreau, furnish

us with further instances of his cruelty. Bonaparte did his utmost to

make the Parisians believe that Moreau was connected with Pichegru in

the conspiracy to establish the Bourbons on the throne. This was totally

false. But Napoleon, jealous of a rival like Moreau, could not bear that

he should live. Moreau's bold and unbending character hastened his

downfall. He always called the flat-bottomed boats, [36]"Ces coquilles

de noix;" and after an excellent dinner which he gave at Paris to many

of his fellow Generals, in mockery of the [37]"Epées d'honneur, fusils

d'honneur," &c, which Bonaparte at this time distributed; Moreau sent

for his cook, and with much ceremony invested him with a [38]"casserole

d'honneur."

There are many interesting traits of this noble character, which, if I

had time, I should wish to give my readers. When he had been condemned

to imprisonment for two years, by the express orders of Bonaparte, the

impression made on the mind of the soldiery, of the judges, and of all

the court, was such, that they seemed insensible to what was going on.

Nobody was found to remove him from the bar; he descended the stairs of

the court; walked down the street amid a crowd of admirers; and instead

of escaping, as he easily might, he called a coach, and ordered the

coachman to drive to the Temple. When arrived there, he informed the

Governor of his sentence, and its execution. My readers will, I am sure,

be pleased with a few extracts from the account of Moreau's death, given

by his friends, M. Breton de la Martiniere and M. Rapatel:

"Moreau conversait avec l'Empereur Alexandre, dont il n'etait separé que

le demi longueur d'un cheval. Il est probable qu'on apperçut de la place

ce brillant etat major, et que l'on tira dessus au hazard. Moreau fut

seul frappé. Un boulet lui fraccassa le genou droit et à travers le

flanc du cheval alla emporter le gros de la jambe gauche. Le genereux

Alexandre versa des larmes. Le Colonel Rapatel se preçipitait sur son

General. Moreau poussa un long soupir et s'evanouit. Revenu à lui meme,

il parle avec le plus grand sang froid, et dit à Monsieur Rapatel, "Je

suis perdu, mon ami, mais il est si glorieux de mourir pour une si belle

cause, et sous les yeux d'un aussi grand Prince." Péu d'instants apres

il dit à l'Empereur Alexandre lui meme, "Il ne vous reste que le

tronc--mais le cœur y est, et la tête est à vous." Il doit souffrir des

douleurs aigus--il demanda une cigare et se mit tranquillement à fumer.

"Mons. Wylie, premier chirurgien de l'Empereur Alexandre, se hata

d'amputer la jambe qui etait la plus mal traiteé. Pendant cette cruelle

operation, Moreau montra à peine quelque alteration dans ses traits et

ne cessa point de fumer la cigarre. L'amputation faite, Monsieur Wylie

examina la jambe droite, et la trouva dans un tel etat qu'il ne peut se

defendre d'un mouvement d'effroi. "Je vous entend," dit Moreau, "Il faut

encore couper celle ci, eh bien, faites vite. Cependant j'eusse preferé

la mort." Il voulait ecrire à sa femme. Il ecrivait donc d'une main

assez ferme ces propres expressions. "Ma chere amie,--La bataille se

decide il y a trois jours.--J'ai eu les deux jambes emportées d'un

boulet de canon--ce coquin de Bonaparte est toujours hereux. On m'a

fait l'amputation aussi bien que possible--l'armée a faite un mouvement

retrograde, ce n'est pas par revers, mais par decousu et pour se

rapprocher au General Blucher. Excuse mon griffonage. Je t'aime et

t'embrasse de tout mon cœur. Je charge Rapatel de finir."

"Tout à l'heure il dit: "Je ne suis pas sans danger, je le sais bien,

mais si je meurs, si une fin prematurée m'enleve à une femme, à une

fille aimèe; a mon pays que je voulais servir malgre lui meme; n'oubliez

pas de dire, aux Français qui vous parleront de moi, que je meurs avec

le regret de n'avoir pas accompli mes projets. Pour affranchir ma patrie

du joug affreux qui l'opprime pour ecraser Bonaparte, toutes les armes,

tous les moyens etaient bons. Avec quelle joie j'aurai consacré le peu

de talent que je possede à la cause de l'humanite! Mon cœur appartenoit

a la France."

"Vers sept heurs le malade se trouvant seul avec Monsieur Svinine lui

dit d'une voix affaiblie--" Je veux absolument vous dicter une

lettre.--Monsieur Svinine prit la plume en gemissant et traça ce peu de

lignes sous la dictée de Moreau.

* * *

"SIRE,--Je descends dans le tombeau avec les memes sentiments de

respect, d'admiration, et de devouement que votre Majesté m'a

constamment inspiré, des que j'ai eu le bohheur de m'approcher de votre

personne."

"En pronoçant ces derniers mots, le malade s'interompit et ferma les

yeux M. Svinine attendit, croyant que Moreau meditait sur la suite de sa

depeche--Vain espoir--Moreau n'etait plus."[39]

I am impatient to finish the character of Napoleon, and to get upon some

other more agreeable subject. I shall end by giving an account of his

last appearance in France, as related to me by the Sub-Prefect of Aix,

who accompanied him on his way from Aix to the coast.--After passing

Montlement, the public feeling began to burst forth against him. The

spirit of the Provençals could not be restrained. In every village was

displayed the white cockade, and the fleur de lis. In one, the villagers

were employed at the moment of his passing in hanging him in effigy; at

another they compelled him to call out Vive le Roi, and he obeyed them,

while his attendants refused. For a part of the way he was forced to

mount a little poney in the dress of an Austrian officer. Arrived at the

village of La Calade, the following extraordinary scene passed at the

inn--It was also related to me by our banker, who had it from the

hostess herself: The landlord was called for, and a mean-looking figure

in plain clothes, with a travelling-cap, and loose blue pantaloons,

asked him if he could have dinner for twenty persons who were coming.

"Yes, (said the landlord), if you take what fare I have; but I trust it

is not for that _coquin_ the Emperor, whom we expect soon here." "No,

(said he), it is only for a part of his suite.--Bring here some wine,

and let the people be well served when they arrive." Presently the

landlady entered with the wine, a fine, bold Provençal, and a decided

royalist, as all the Provençal snow are. [40]"Ecoutez, bonne femme, vous

attendez l'Empereur n'est pas?" 'Oui, Monsieur, j'espere que nous le

verrons?' "Eh bien, bonne femme, vous autres que dites vous de

l'Empereur?" 'Qu'il est un grand coquin.' "Eh! ma bonne femme, et vous

meme que dites vous?" 'Monsieur, voulez vous que je vous dise

franchment ce que je pense: Si j'etais le capitaine du vaisseau, je ne

l'embarquerai que pour le noyer."

The stranger said nothing. After an hour or two, the landlord asked his

wife if she would like to see Bonaparte, for that he was arrived. She

was all anxiety to see him. He took her up stairs, and pointed to the

little man in the travelling cap. The surprise of the woman may be

conceived. The Emperor made her approach, and said to her she was a good

woman; but that there were many things told of Bonaparte which were not

true.

I shall continue the Sub-Prefect's narrative in his own words:--[41]"Les

Commissaires, en arrivant à Calade, le trouvoient la tête appuyée sur

les deux mains, et le visage baignè de larmes. Il leur dit qu'on en

voulait decidement à sa vie; que la maitresse de l'auberge, qui ne

l'avait pas reconnu lui avait declaré que l'Empereur etait detesté comme

un scelerat, et qu'on ne l'embarquerait que pour le noyer. Il ne

voulait rien manger ni boire quelque instances qu'on lui fit, et

quoiqu'il dut etre rassurè par l'example de ceux qui etaient a tablé

avec lui. Il fit venir de la voiture du pain et de l'eau qu'il prit avec

avidité. On attendait la nuit pour continuer la route; on n'etait qu'à

deux lieues d'Aix. La population de cette ville n'eut pas eté aussi

facile à contenir que celle des villages ou on avait deja couru tant de

perils. Monsieur, le Sous-Prefét, prenant avec lui le Lieutenant des

gend'armes et six gend'armes, se mit en route vers la Calade. La nuit

etait obscure, et le temps froid; cette double circonstance protegea

Napoleon beaucoup mieux que n'aurait fait la plus forte escorte. Mons.

le Sous-Prefét et la gend'armerie rencontrerent le cortege peu

d'instants apres avoir quitté la Calade, et la suivoient jusqu'à ce

qu'ils arriverent aux portes d'Aix à deux heures du matin. Apres avoir

changé les chevaux, Bonaparte continuant sa route, passa sous les murs

de la ville, au milieu des cris repetés de "Vive le Roi," que firent

entendre les habitants accourus sur les remparts. Il arriva a la limite

du departement à une auberge appellee la Grande Prgere, ce fut là qu'il

s'arreta pour dejeuner. Le General Bertrand proposa a Mons. le

Sous-Prefét de monter, avant que de partir, dans la chambre des

Commissaires ou tout le monde etait à dejeuner. Il y avoit dix ou douzes

personnes. Napoleon etait du nombre; il avait son costume d'officier

Autrichien, et une casque sur la tête. Voyant le Sous-Prefét an habit

d'auditeur, il lui dit, "Vous ne m'auriez pas reconnu sons ce costume?

Ce sont ces Messieurs qui me l'ont fait prendre, le jugeant necessaire à

ma sureté. J'aurais pu avoir une escorte de trois mille homines, qui

j'ai refusé, preferant de me fier à la loyauté Française. Je n'ai pas eu

à me plaindre de cette confiance depuis Fontainbleau jusqu'à Avignon;

mais depuis cette ville jusqu'ici j'ai eté insulté,--j'ai couru bien de

dangers. Les Provençaux se dishonnerent. Depuis qui je suis en France je

n'ai pas eu un bon battaillon de Provençeaux sous mes ordres. Ils ne

sont bons que pour crier. Les Gascons sont fanfarons, mais au moins ils

sont braves." Sur ces paroles, un des convives, qui etait sans dout

Gascon, tira son jabot et dit en riant, "Cela fait plaisir."

Bonaparte continuant à s'addresser an Sous-Prefét, lui dit, "Que fait le

Prefét?" 'Il est parti à la premiere nouvelle du changement survenu à

Paris.' "Et sa femme?" 'Elle etait partie plutôt.'--"Elle avait donc

prit le devant. Paie l'on bien les octrois et les droits reunis?"--'Pas

un sou.'--"Y-a-t-il beaucoup d'Anglais à Marseilles?" Ici Mons. le

Sous-Prefét raconta à Bonaparte tout ce qui s'etait passè naguere dans

ce port, et avec quels transports on avait accueilli les Anglais.

Bonaparte, qui ne prenait pas grand plaisir à ce reçit y mit fin en

disant au Sous-Prefét, "Dites à vos Provençaux que l'Empereur est bien

mecontent d'eux."

Arrivè a Bouilledon, il se s'enferma dans ua apartment avec sa sœur

(Pauline Borghese)--Des sentinels furent places a la porte. Cependant

des dames arriveés dans un galerie qui communiquait avec cette chambre,

y trouverent un militaire en uniform d'officier Autrichien, qui leur

dit, "Que desirez vous voir, Mesdames?" 'Nous voudrions voir Napoleon.'

"Mais ce'st moi, Mesdames." Ces dames le regardant lui dirent en riant,

'Vous plaisantez, Monsieur; ce n'est pas vous qui etes Napoleon.' "Je

vous assure, Mesdames, ce'st moi. Vous vous imaginez donc que Napoleon

avait l'air plus mechant. N'est pas qu'on dit que je suis un scelerat,

un brigand?" Les dames n'eurent garde de le dementir, Bonaparte ne

voulant pas trop les presser sur ce point detourna le conversation. Mais

toujours occupé de sa premier idée, il y revint brasquement: "Convenez

en Mesdames, leur dit il, maintenant que la Fortune m'est contraire, on

dit que je suis un coquin, un scelerat, un brigand. Mais savez vous ce

que c'est que tout cela? J'ai voula mettre la France au dessus de

l'Angleterre, et j'ai echoué dans ce projet."

CHAPTER IV.

STATE OF FRANCE UNDER NAPOLEON--CONTINUED.

AGRICULTURE.

To one unacquainted with the present division of society, and the

condition of each of its branches in France; to one who had only cast

his eye, in travelling, over the immense tracts of cultivated land, with

scarcely an acre of waste to diversify the scene, and who had permitted

first impressions to influence his judgement, it might appear, that in

agriculture, France far excelled every other country in the world. In

England, we have immense tracts of common in many of the counties;--in

Scotland; we have our barren hills, our mosses, and moors;--in America,

the cultivation bears but a small proportion to the wilds, the swamps,

and the forests. In our beautiful provinces in the East Indies, the

cultivation forms but a speck in the wide extent of common, and forest,

and jungle. Why should France furnish a different spectacle? Why should

the face of the country there wear a continual smile, while its very

heart is torn with faction, and its energies fettered by tyranny? There

are many who maintain that this state of the country is the happy effect

of the revolution; but it will, I conceive, not be difficult to shew,

that though certainly a consequence of the great change, it is far from

being a happy one. We surely would not pronounce it a happy state of

things, where the interests of all other branches of the community were

sacrificed to promote the welfare of the peasantry alone.

The peasantry, no doubt, when their rights are preserved to them, as

they are the most numerous, so they become the most important members of

a civil society. "Although," as is well observed by Arthur Young, "they

be disregarded by the superficial, or viewed with contempt by the vain,

they will be placed, by those who judge of things not by their external

appearance, but by their intrinsic worth, as the most useful class of

mankind; their occupations conduce not only to the prosperity, but to

the very existence of society; their life is one unvaried course of

hardy exertion and persevering toil. The vigour of their youth is

exhausted by labour, and what are the hopes and consolations of their

age? Sickness may deprive them of the opportunity of providing the least

supply for the declining years of life, and the gloomy confinement of a

work-house, or the scanty pittance of parochial help, are their only

resources. By their condition may be estimated the real prosperity of a

country; the real opulence, strength, and security of the public are

proportionate to the comfort which they enjoy, and their wretchedness is

a _sure criterion of a bad administration_."

I have quoted this passage at length, in order that I might shew that

France supplies us in this case, as in many others, with a wide

exception from those general rules in politics which time and experience

had long sanctioned. We shall in vain look at the state of the peasantry

of that country as affording a criterion of the situation of any other

branch of the community. It did not remain concealed from the deep and

penetrating eye of Napoleon, that if the peasantry of a country were

supported, and their condition improved, any revolution might be

effected; any measure, however tyrannical, provided it did not touch

them, might be executed with ease. For the sake of the peasantry, we

shall perceive that the yeomanry, the farmers, the _bourgeoisie_, the

nobility, were allowed to dwindle into insignificance. His leading

principle was never to interfere with their properties, however they may

have been obtained; and he invariably found, that if permitted to enjoy

these, they calmly submitted to taxation, furnished recruits for his

conscription, and supported him in every measure.

In tracing the causes and effects of the various revolutions which take

place among civilized nations, political writers have paid too little

attention to the effects of property. France affords us an interesting

field for investigation on this interesting question; but the narrow

limits of our work will not admit of our indulging in such speculations.

We cannot, however, avoid remarking by the way, that the facility of

effecting a revolution in the government of France, so often shewn of

late, has arisen, in a great measure, from this state of the property

of the peasantry. Under the revolution they gained this property, and

they respected and supported the revolutionists. Under Napoleon, their

property was respected, and they bore with him, and admired him. Louis

commenced by encouraging them in the idea that their rights would be

respected, and they remained quiet:--his Ministers commenced their plans

of restoring to the noblesse their estates, and the King immediately

lost the affections of the peasantry. They welcomed Napoleon a second

time, because they knew his principles: They have again welcomed their

King, because they are led to suppose that experience has changed the

views of his Ministers: but they suspect him, and on the first symptom

of another change they will join in his expulsion.

The nobility, the great landed proprietors, the yeomanry, the lesser

farmers, all the intermediate ranks who might oppose a check to the

power of a tyrannical prince, are nearly annihilated. The property of

these classes, but more particularly of the nobility, has been

subdivided and distributed among the peasants; become their own, it has,

no doubt, been much better managed, for it is their immediate interest

that not an acre of waste ground should remain. They till it with their

own hands, and, without any intermediate agents, they draw the profits.

Lands thus managed, must, of course, be found in a very different state

from those whose actual proprietor is perhaps never on the spot, who

manages through stewards, bailiffs, and other agents, and whose rank

prevents the possibility of his assisting, or even superintending, the

labour of his peasantry.

Having shewn the causes of the present appearance of France, we must

describe the effects, by presenting to our readers the picture which was

every where before our eyes in traversing the country. The improvement

in agriculture, or to speak literally, in the method of tilling the

soil, is by no means great. The description of the methods pursued, and

of the routine of crops, given by Arthur Young, corresponds very exactly

with what we saw. It may be observed, however, that the ploughing is

rather more neat, and the harrowing more regular. To an English eye both

of these operations would appear most superficial; but it ought to be

considered, that here nature does almost every thing, little labour is

necessary, and in many parts of the country manure is never used: but

the defect in the quality of the cultivation is somewhat compensated by

the quantity. Scarce an acre of land which would promise to reward the

cultivator will be found untilled. The plains are covered with grain,

and the most barren hills are formed into vineyards. And it will

generally be found, that the finest grapes are the produce of the most

dry, stony, and seemingly barren hills. It is in this extension of the

cultivation that we trace the improvement; but there must also be some

considerable change for the better, though not in the same degree, in

the method of cultivation, which is demonstrated by the fact, that a

considerable rise has taken place in the rent and price of land. In many

places it has doubled within the last twenty-five years; an _arpent_ now

selling for 1000 francs, which was formerly sold for 500.

It is, however, extraordinary, that these improvements have, as yet,

only shewn their influence in the dress of the peasantry, and no where

in the comfort or neatness of their houses. Between Calais and Paris,

their houses are better than we found them afterwards on our way to the

south. In that direction, also, they were almost invariably well

clothed, having over their other clothes (and not as a substitute for a

coat) a sort of blue linen frock, which had an appearance of attention

to dress, not to be seen in other parts of the country, for the

peasantry in most other parts, though neatly clothed, presented, in the

variety of their habits and costumes, a very novel spectacle. The large

tails, which give them so military an appearance, and impress us with

the idea that they have _marched_, are by no means a proof of this

circumstance; for we were informed, that the first thing done in most

instances, was to deprive the conscripts of their superabundant hair.

But the long tail and the cocked hat, are worn in imitation of the

higher orders of older time. It is indeed a sight of the most amusing

kind to the English eye, to behold a French peasant at his work, in

velvet coat and breeches, powdered hair, and a cocked hat. But we do not

mean to give this as the usual dress of the peasants, although we have

frequently met with it. Their dress is very often as plain, neat, and

sufficient, as their houses are the reverse.

In Picardy, the luxuriant fruit-trees which surround the cottages and

houses, give an appearance of comfort, which is not borne out by the

actual state of the houses on a nearer inspection. Near Laon, and

towards the frontiers of French Flanders, the condition of the peasantry

appeared exceedingly comfortable. Their dress was very neat, and their

houses much more substantial, and, in some parts, ornament was added to

strength. In this district, the people had the advantage of being

employed in the linen manufacture in their own houses, besides their

ordinary agricultural occupations; and their condition reminded us of

the effects of this intermixture of occupations presented by a view of

Clydesdale in Scotland, or of the West Riding of Yorkshire.

Towards Fontainbleau, and to the east of Paris, on the road of Soissons,

the peasantry inhabit the old villages, or rather little towns, and no

cottages are to be seen on the lands. No gardens are attached to the

houses in these towns. The houses have there an appearance of age, want

of repair, and a complete stagnation of commerce. And even the peasantry

there seemed considerably reduced, but they were always well dressed,

and by no means answered Arthur Young's description. Still their houses

denoted great want of comfort; very little furniture was to be seen, and

that either of the very coarsest kind, or of the gaudy and gilded

description, which shewed whence it came. The intermixture is hideous.

In the parts of the country above named; the food often consisted of

bread and pork, and was better than what we found in the south. But

even here, the small number of pigs, the poor flocks of sheep, and,

indeed, the absence of any species of pasture for cattle, demonstrated

that there was not a general or extensive consumption of animal food or

the produce of the dairy.

The little demand for butcher meat, or the produce of pasture, is

probably, as Arthur Young has hinted, one great cause of the continuance

of the fallow system of husbandry in France; for where there is no

consumption of these articles, it is impossible that a proper rotation

of crops can be introduced.

In noticing the causes of the decided improvement in the condition of

the peasantry, we may observe in passing, that the great consumption of

human life, during the revolution, and more particularly under

Napoleon's conscription, must have considerably bettered the condition

of those who remained, and who were able for work, by increasing the

price of labour.

The industry of the peasants in every part of the country, cannot be

sufficiently praised--it as remarkable as the apathy and idleness of

tradesmen and artificers. Every corner of soil is by them turned to

account, and where they have gardens, they are kept very neat. The

defects in the cultivation arise, therefore, from the goodness of the

climate, the ignorance or poverty of the cultivators, or from inveterate

prejudice.

We must now say a few words with regard to the state of agriculture and

the condition of the peasantry between Paris and Aix, and more

especially in the south of France. Here also every acre of land is

turned to good account, but the method of tilling the land is very

defective. The improvements in agriculture, in modern times, will be

found to owe their origin to men of capital, of education, and of

liberal ideas, and such men are not to be found here. The prejudices and

the poverty of their ancestors, have not ceased to have their effects in

the present generation, in retarding the improvement in the tillage, and

in the farm instruments. They are, in this respect, at least a century

behind us. From the small subdivisions in many parts of the country,

each family is enabled to till its own little portion with the spade;

and where the divisions are larger, and ploughs used, they will

invariably be found rude, clumsy, enormous masses of wood and iron, weak

from the unskilfulness of the workmanship, continuing from father to son

without improvement, because improvement would not only injure their

purses, but give a deadly wound to that respect and veneration which

they have for the good old ways of their ancestors. There is endless

variety in the shape and size of the French plough; but amid the

innumerable kinds of them, we never had the good fortune to meet one

good or sufficient instrument.

The use of machinery in the farm-stead is unknown, and grain, as of old,

is very generally trodden by oxen, sometimes on the sides of the high

roads, and winnowed by the breath of Heaven.

In the south of France, we met with much more regular enclosure than

around Paris; but even here, little attention is bestowed in keeping the

fences in repair. Hedges are, however, less necessary in the south than

elsewhere; for there is a complete want of live stock of every

description, and no attention paid to the breeding of it. This want does

not strike the traveller immediately, because he finds butcher meat

pretty good in the small towns; excellent in the larger cities, and

cheap everywhere. But he will find, that France is, in this respect,

much in the same state with India. Animal food is cheap, because the

consumption is very limited. In France, but more particularly in the

south, I should say that not one-sixth of the butcher meat is consumed

by each man or woman which would be requisite in England. Bread, wine,

fruit, garlic, onions and oil, with occasionally a small portion of

animal food, form the diet of the lower orders; and among the higher

ranks, the method of cooking makes a little meat go a great way. The

immense joints of beef and mutton, to which we are accustomed in

England, were long the wonder of the French; but latterly, they have

begun to introduce (among what they humorously term _plats de

resistance_) these formidable dishes.

Excepting in the larger towns, butcher meat, particularly beef and

mutton, is generally ill fed. In the part of the south, where we resided

during the winter, the beef was procured from Lyons, a distance of above

200 miles. In the south, the breed of cattle of every description is

small and stinted, and unless when pampered up for the market, they are

generally very poor and ill fed. The traveller is everywhere struck with

the difference between the English and French horses, cows, pigs, sheep,

&c. and in more than the half of France, he will find, for the reasons

formerly assigned, an almost total want of attention to these useful

animals among the farmers. At Aix, where we were situated, there was

only one cow to be found. Our milk was supplied by goats and sheep; and

all the butter consumed there, excepting a very small quantity made from

goat's milk, was also brought from Lyons. This want is not so much felt

in Provence; because, for their cookery, pastry, &c. they use olive oil,

which, when fresh, is very pleasant.

The want of barns, sheds, granaries, and all other farm buildings, is

very conspicuous in the south. The dairy is there universally neglected,

and milk can only be had early in the morning, and then in very small

quantity; nay, the traveller may often journey a hundred miles in the

south of France without being able to procure milk at all; this we

ourselves experienced. The eye is nowhere delighted with the sight of

rich and flourishing farm-steads, nor do the abundant harvests of France

make any shew in regular farm-yards. All the wealth of the peasantry is

concealed. Each family hides the produce of their little estate within

their house. An exhibition of their happy condition would expose them to

immediate spoliation from the tax-officers. In our own happy country,

the rich farm-yard, the comfortable dwelling-house of the farmer, and

the neat smiling cottage of the labourer, call down on the possessors

only the applause and approbation of his landlord, of his neighbours,

and of strangers. They raise him in the general opinion. In France, they

would prove his ruin.

To conclude these few observations on the state of agriculture, we may

remark, that the revolution has certainly tended greatly to promote the

extension of the cultivation, by throwing the property of the lands into

the hands of the peasantry, who are the actual cultivators, and also by

removing the obstructions occasioned by the seignorial rights, the

titles, game laws, corveès; yet I think there cannot be a doubt, that,

aided by capital, and by the more liberal ideas of superior farmers

benefiting by the many new and interesting discoveries in modern

agriculture, France might, without that terrible convulsion, have shewn

as smiling an aspect, and the science of agriculture been much further

advanced.

If, by the revolution, the situation of the peasantry be improved, we

must not forget, on the other hand, that to effect this improvement, the

nobility, gentry, yeomanry, and, we might almost add, farmers, have been

very generally reduced to beggary. The restraint which the existence of

these orders ever opposed to the power of a bad king, of a tyrant, or of

an adventurer, might have remained, and all have been happier, better,

and richer than they are now.

* * *

_COMMERCE._

It was probably the first wish of Napoleon's heart, as it was also his

wisest policy, that the French should become entirely a military, not a

commercial nation. Under his government, the commerce of France was

nearly annihilated. It was however necessary, that at times he should

favour the commercial interest of the towns in the interior, from which

he drew large supplies of money, and his constant enmity against the

sea-port towns of Marseilles and Bourdeaux, induced him to encourage the

interior commerce of France, to the prejudice of the maritime trade of

these ports. Under Napoleon, Paris, Lyons, Rouen, and most of the large

towns which carried on this interior commerce, were lately in a

flourishing state. In these towns, if not beloved, he was at least

tolerated, and they wished for no change of government. But at

Marseilles, and at Bourdeaux, he was detested, and a very strong

royalist party existed, which caused him constant annoyance. At

Bourdeaux, it may be recollected, that the Bourbons were received with

open arms, and that that town was the first to open its gates to the

allies. It was also among the last that held out. I was in that town

while the royalist party were still powerful, while every thing shewed a

flourishing commerce, while the people were happy; the wine trade was

daily enriching the inhabitants, and they blessed the return of peace,

and of their lawful princes. In two days the face of things was changed.

A party of soldiers, 300 strong, were dispatched by Napoleon, under the

command of General Clausel. The troops of the line here, as everywhere

else, betrayed their trust, and joined the rebels, and Bourdeaux was

delivered up to the spoiler.

Never was there a more melancholy spectacle than that now afforded by

the inhabitants of this city. You could not enter a shop where you did

not find the owners in tears. We were then all hastening to leave

France. They embraced us, and prayed that our army might soon be among

them to restore peace and the Bourbons. Here I am convinced that

Bonaparte is hated by all but the military. Yet what could a town like

Bourdeaux effect, when its own garrison betrayed it?

Besides the bad effects of Bonaparte's policy on the commerce of France,

I must notice the wide influence of another cause, which was the natural

result of the revolution. Although at first an attack was only made

against the noblesse, yet latterly, every rich and powerful family was

included among the proscribed, and all the commercial houses of the

first respectability were annihilated. These have never been replaced,

and the upstart race of petty traders have not yet obtained the

confidence of foreigners. The trade of France is therefore very

confined; and even were opportunities now afforded of establishing a

trade with foreign nations, it would be long before France could benefit

by it, from the total want of established and creditable houses.

The manifest signs of the decay of commerce in France cannot escape the

observation of the traveller, more especially if he has been in the

habit of travelling in England. The public diligences are few in number,

and most miserably managed. It is difficult to say whether the

carriage, the horses, or the harness, gives most the idea of meanness.

Excepting in the neighbourhood of large towns, you meet with not a cart,

or waggon, for twenty that the same distance would show in England. The

roads are indeed excellent in most parts; but this is not in France, as

in most countries, a proof of a flourishing commerce. It is for the

conveyance of military stores, and to facilitate the march of the

troops, that the police are required to keep the roads in good repair.

The villages and towns throughout France, are in a state of dilapidation

from want of repair. No new houses, shops, and warehouses building, as

we behold every where in England. None of that hurry and bustle in the

streets, and on the quays of the sea-port towns, which our blessed

country can always boast. The dress of the people, their food, their

style of living, their amusements, their houses, all bespeak extreme

poverty and want of commerce.

I was at some pains in ascertaining whether, in many of their

manufactures, they were likely to rival us or injure our own.--I cannot

say I have found one of consequence. There are indeed one or two

articles partially in demand among us, in which the French have the

superiority; silks, lace, gloves, black broad cloth, and cambric are

the chief among them. The woollen cloths in France are extremely

beautiful, and the finer sorts, I think, of a superior texture to any

thing we have in England; but the price is always double, and sometimes

treble of what they sell for at home, so that we have not much to fear

from their importations. Few of the French can afford to wear these fine

cloths.

French watches are manufactured at about one half of the English price;

but the workmanship is very inferior to ours, and unless as trinkets for

ladies' wear, they do not seem much in estimation in England. The

cutlery in France is wretched. Not only the steel, but the temper and

polish, are far inferior to ours. A pair of English razors is, to this

day, a princely present in France. Hardware is flimsy, ill finished, and

of bad materials. All leather work, such as saddlery, harness, shoes,

&c. is wretchedly bad, but undersells our manufactures of the same kind

by about one half. Cabinet work and furniture is handsome, shewy,

insufficient, and dear. Jewellery equal, if not superior to ours in

neatness, but not so sufficient. Hats and hosiery very indifferent. In

glass ware we greatly excel the French, except in the manufacture of

mirrors. Musical instruments of all descriptions are made as well, and

at half the English price, in France. In every thing else, not here

mentioned, as far as my memory serves me, I think I may report the

manufactures of France greatly inferior to those in England. I have

sometimes heard it stated, that in the manufacture of calicoes, muslins,

and other cotton goods, the French are likely to rival us. On this

subject I was not able to obtain the information I wished for, but one

fact I can safely mention, the price of all these goods is at present,

in most parts of France, nearly double what it is in England or

Scotland, and their machinery is not to be compared with our own.

* * *

_WEALTH OF THE NATION AND ITS DIVISION._

To the traveller in France, every thing seems to denote extreme poverty,

and that extending its influence over all ranks of society; and

certainly, compared with England, France is wretchedly poor. But many of

its resources remain hidden, and it is certain, that on the demands of

its despotic ruler, France produced unlooked-for supplies. His wars have

now greatly exhausted this hidden treasure, and there is, fortunately

for the peace of the world, very little money left in the country. The

marks of the wealth of the country, both absolutely, and in relation to

other countries, are to be found in the manner of living, and extent of

fortunes of its inhabitants; in the size, comfort, and style of their

houses; in their dress and amusements; in the price of labour; the

salaries of office; the trade and commerce of the country; the number of

country houses, of banks, &c. In examining each of these heads, we shall

find that France is a very poor country.

The sum of two thousand pounds a-year is reckoned a noble fortune in

France, and very, very few, there are that possess that sum.

One thousand pounds a-year constitutes a handsome fortune for a

gentleman; and four hundred for a _bourgeois_, or for one employed in

trade or commerce. Few of the nobility are now possessed of fortunes

sufficient to maintain a carriage; and none under the rank of princes,

in France, have _now_ more than one carriage.

The style of living is wretched: only the first, and richest houses, can

afford to entertain company, and those but seldom. It requires a large

fortune to maintain a regular cook; in half the houses they have only a

dirty scullion, who, among her other work, cooks the dinner. In the

other half, a traiteur sends in the dinner; or if a bachelor, the master

of the house dines at a _table d'hôte_, as a _pensionaire_.

The interior management of the French houses denotes extreme poverty.

Some few articles of splendid furniture are displayed for shew in one or

two rooms, while the rest of the house is shut up, and left dirty and

ill furnished.

Of their dress and amusements I have already said enough, to shew that

they denote poverty, and I shall say more when I come to the French

character.

The price of labour is far lower than what we are used to, fluctuating

from fifteen to twenty pence a-day. The salaries of office are,

throughout France, not above one-third what they are in England. Of the

want of trade and commerce I have already spoken. The public banks are

very few in number, and only to be found in very large and commercial

towns. Country houses and fine estates, there are none, or where they

are found, it is in a state of dilapidation.

Where, then, is the wealth of France? I was at some pains to solve this

question. The remaining wealth of France is divided among the generals

of Napoleon; the army furnishers and contractors; the prefects,

sub-prefects; the numerous receivers and collectors of taxes; and,

lastly, but chiefly, the peasantry. It may appear strange to those who

are not acquainted with the present state of France, that I have

mentioned the peasants among the richest; but I am convinced of the

fact. The peasants in France have divided among themselves the lands and

property of the emigrants. Napoleon drew supplies from them; but very

politically maintained them in their possessions. Their condition, and

the condition of the lands, shew them to be in easy circumstances. They

are well clothed, and abundantly, though poorly fed.

France is, in fine, a very poor country, compared with our own; but it

is not without resources, and its wealth will remain concealed as long

as it is under Napoleon; for whoever shewed wealth, was by him marked

out as an object of plunder. By allowing unlimited power to his

emissaries and spies, he was able to discover where the wealth lay, and

by vesting the same power in his prefects, sub-prefects, receivers, and

gend'armes, he seized on it when discovered. In the public prints,

previous to his downfall, we may observe almost continually the thanks

of Government to the farmers, proprietors, and others, for _their

patriotic exertions in supplying horses, grain, &c._ In these cases, the

_patriotic farmers_ had bands of gend'armerie stationed over them, who

drove away their horses, their cattle and grain, without the hope even

of payment or redress of any kind. Nothing denotes more the poverty of

the country, than the want of horses, of cows, and all kinds of live

stock.

In no country in the world is there found so great a number of beggars

as in France; and yet there are not wanting in every town establishments

for the maintenance of the poor. These beggars are chiefly from among

the manufacturing classes; the families of soldiers and labourers. The

peasants are seldom reduced to this state, or when reduced, they are

succoured by their fellow peasants, and do not beg publicly. The

national poverty has had the worst effects on the French character; in

almost every station in life they will be found capable of meanness.

What can be more disgusting, than to see people of fashion and family

reduced to the necessity of letting to strangers their own rooms, and

retiring into garrets and other dirty holes--demanding exorbitant

prices, and with perfect indifference taking half or a third--higgling

for every article they purchase--standing in dirty wrappers at their

doers, seeing the wood weighed in the street, on terms of familiarity

with tradesmen and their own servants. All this you see in France daily;

but on this subject I have elsewhere made observations.

As connected with this part of the subject, a few words must be said on

the condition of the towns and villages; for although I had at first

intended to treat this, and the situation of the different ranks, as

separate subjects; yet they seem to come in more naturally at present,

when speaking of the wealth of France and its division. The towns

throughout France, as well as the villages, particularly in the south,

have an appearance of decay and dilapidation. The proprietors have not

the means of repair. It is customary (I suppose from the heat of the

climate), to build the houses very large; to repair a French house,

therefore, is very expensive: and it will generally be seen, that in

most, houses only one or two rooms are kept in repair, and furnished,

while the rest of the house is crumbling to pieces. This is the case

with all the great houses; in those of the common people we should

expect more comfort, as they are small, and do not need either expensive

repair or gay furniture; but comfort is unknown in France. On entering a

small house in one of the villages, we find the people huddled together

as they are said to do in some parts of England and Scotland. Men,

women, dogs, cats, pigs, goats, &c.--no glass in the windows--doors

shattered--truckle-beds--a few earthen pots; and with all this filth, we

find, perhaps, half a dozen velvet or brocade covered chairs; a broken

mirror, or a marble slab-table; these are the articles plundered in

former days of terror and revolution. All caffés and hotels in the

villages are thus furnished.

The streets in almost every town in France are without pavement. Would

any one believe, that in the great city, as the French call it, there is

a total want of this convenience? On this subject, Mercier, in his

Tableaux de Paris, has this remark: [42]"Dès qu'on est sur le pavè de

Paris, ou voit que le peuple n'y fait pas les loix;--aucune commoditè

pour les gens de pied--point de trottoirs--le peuple semble un corps

separè des autres ordres de l'etat--les riches et les grands qui ont

equipage ont le droit de l'ecraser ou de le mutiler dans les rues--cent

victimes expirent par annee sous les rues des voiture."

Besides the want of pavement to protect us from the carriages, and to

keep our feet dry, we have to encounter the mass of filth and dirt,

which the nastiness of the inhabitants deposits, and which the police

suffers to remain. The state of Edinburgh in its worst days, as

described by our English neighbours, was never worse than what you meet

with in France. The danger of walking the streets at night is very

great, and the perfumes of Arabia do not prevail in the morning.

The churches in all the villages are falling to ruin, and in many

instances are converted into granaries, barracks, and hospitals;

manufacturing establishments are also in ruins, scarcely able to

maintain their workmen; their owners have no money for the repair of

their buildings. The following description of the changes that have

taken place in the French villages, is better than any thing I can give;

and from what I have seen, it is perfectly correct:

[43]"Avant la revolution, le village se composait de quatre mille

habitans. Il fournissait pour sa part, au service general de l'Eglise et

des hopitaux, ainsi qu'aux besoins de l'instruction cinq eclesiastiques,

deux sœurs de la charité, et trois maitres d'ecol. Ces derniers sont

remplacé par un maitre d'equitation, un maitre de dessin et deux maitres

de musique. Sur huit fabriques d'etoffes de laisne et de coton, il ne

reste plus qu'une seule. En revanche il s'est etabli deux caffés, un

tabaque, un restaurat, et un billiard qui prosperent d'une maniere

surprenante. On comptait autrefois quarante charretiers de labour;

vingt-cinq d'entre eux sont devenus couriers, piqueurs, et cochès. Ce

vuide est remplie par autant de femmes, qui dirigent la charette et qui

pour se delasser de tems en tems menent au marché des voitures de paille

ou de charbon. Le nombre de charpentiers, de maçons, et d'autres

artisans est diminué à peu pres de moitie. Mais le prix de tout les

genres de main d'œuvre ayant aussi augmenté de moitie--cela revient au

meme--et la compensation se retablit. Une espece d'individus que le

village fournit en grande abondance, et dans des proportions trop

fortes ce sont les domestiques de luxe et de livrée. Pour peu que cela

dure on achevera de depeupler le campagne de gens utiles qui le

cultivent pour peupler les villes d'individus oisifs et corrompus.

Beaucoup de femmes et de jeunes filles, qui n'etaient que des

couturiers, et des servantes de femmes, ont aussi trouvè de l'avancement

dans la capitale, et dans les grandes villes. Elles sont devenues femmes

de chambre--brodeuses--et marchandes des modes. On dirait que le luxe a

entreprit de pomper la jeunesse; toutes les idèes et tous les regards

sont tournès vers lui à aucun epoque anterieure le contingent du village

en hommes de loi--huissiers--etudiants en droits, mediçins, poetes et

artistes, ne s'etait eleve au dela de trois ou quatre; il s'eleve

maintenant à soixante deux, et une chose qu'on n'aurait jamais su

imaginer autrefois c'est qu'il y a dans le nombre autant de peintres, de

poetes, de comediens, de danseuses de theatre et de musiciens ambulans,

qu'une ville de quatre vingt mille hommes aurait pu en fournir il y a

trente ou quarante ans."

Another mark of the poverty of France at present occurs to me: In every

town, but particularly in the large cities, we are struck with numbers

of idle young men and women who are seen in the streets. Now that the

army no longer carries away the "surplus population of France," (to use

the language of Bonaparte), the number of these idlers is greatly

increased. The great manufacturing concerns have long ceased to employ

them. France is too poor to continue the public works which Napoleon had

every where begun. The French have no money for the improvement of their

estates, the repair of their houses, or the encouragement of the

numerous trades and professions which thrive by the costly taste and

ever-varying fashion of a luxurious and rich community. Being on the

subject of taste and fashion, I must not forget that I noticed the dress

and amusements of the French as offering a mark of their poverty. The

great meanness of their dress must particularly strike every English

traveller; for I believe there is no country in the world where all

ranks of people are so well dressed as in England. It is not indeed

astonishing to see the nobility, the gentry, and those of the liberal

professions well clothed, but to see every tradesman, and every

tradesman's apprentice, wearing the same clothes as the higher orders;

to see every servant as well, if not better clothed than his master,

affords a clear proof of the riches of a country. In the higher ranks

among the French, a gentleman has indeed a good suit of clothes, but

these are kept for wearing in the evening on the promenade, or at a

party. In the morning, clothes of the coarsest texture, and often much

worn, or even ragged, are put on. If you pay a lady or gentleman a

morning visit, you find them so metamorphosed as scarcely to be known;

the men in dirty coarse cloth great coats, wide sackcloth trowsers and

slippers; the women in coarse calico wrappers, with a coloured

handkerchief tied round their hair. All the little gaudy finery they

possess is kept for the evening, but even then there is nothing either

costly or elegant, or neat, as with us. In their amusements also is the

poverty of the people manifested. A person residing in Paris, and who

had travelled no further, would think that this observation was unjust,

for in Paris there is no want of amusements; the theatres are numerous,

and all other species of entertainment are to be found. But in the

smaller towns, one little dirty theatre, ill lighted, with ragged

scenery, dresses, and a beggarly company of players, is all that is to

be found. The price of admittance is also very low. The poverty of the

people will not admit of the innumerable descriptions of amusements

which we find in every little town in England: amateur concerts are

sometimes got up, but for want of funds they seldom last long. My

subscription to one of these at the town where we resided, was five

francs per month, or about a shilling each concert. This may be taken as

a specimen of the price of French amusements.

_STATE OF RELIGION_.

THE order of the priesthood in France had suffered greatly in the

revolution. They were everywhere scouted and reviled, either for being

supporters of the throne, or for being rich, or for being _moderès_.

Napoleon found them in this condition; he never more than tolerated

them, and latterly, by his open attack and cruel treatment of their

chief, he struck the last and severest blow against the church. Unable

to bear the insults of the military, deprived of the means of support,

many of the clergy either emigrated or concealed themselves. In the

principal towns, indeed, the great establishments took the oath of

allegiance to the tyrant; but the inferior clergy and the country

curates met nowhere with encouragement, and were allowed to starve, or

to pick up a scanty pittance by teaching schools in a community who

laughed at education, at morality, and religion.

Many of the churches, convents, and monasteries were demolished; many

were converted into barracks, storehouses, and hospitals. We saw but

_one_ village church in our travels through France, and even in the

larger towns we found the places of public worship in a state of

dilapidation. I went to see the palace of the Archbishop at Aix; out of

a suite of most magnificent rooms, about 30 in number, _one miserable

little chamber was furnished for his highness_. In the rest, the

grandeur of former days was marked by the most beautiful tapestry on

some part of the walls, while other parts had been laid bare and daubed

over with caps of liberty, and groupes of soldiers and guillotines, and

indecent inscriptions. The nitches for statues, and the frames of

pictures, were seen empty. The objects which formerly filled them were

dashed to pieces or burnt.

The conduct of the people at the churches marked the low state of

religion: the higher ranks talked in whispers, and even at times loudly,

on their family concerns, their balls and concerts. The peasantry and

lower ranks behaved with more decency, but seemed to think the service a

mere form; they came in at all hours, and staid but a few minutes; went

out and returned.

We had in our small society some very respectable clergymen; but I am

sorry to say, we had one instance shewing the immoral tendency of the

celibacy of the clergy.

Very few of the convents remain. I have detailed our visit to one of

them in my journal; we found every thing decent and well conducted, but

not with any thing like the strictness and rigour we expected. At Aix

there was a small establishment of Ursulines, a very strict order; there

was also a penitentiary establishment of Magdalenes, the rules of which

were said by the people of Aix to be of the most inhuman nature. The

caterers for the establishment were ordered to buy only spoilt

provisions for food; fasting was prescribed for weeks together; and the

miserable young women lay on boards a foot in breadth, with scarce any

clothing. Their whole dress, when they went out, consisted of a shift

and gown of coarsest hard blanket stuff. They were employed in educating

young children. I once met a party of them walking out with their

charges, who were chanting hymns and decorating these miserable walking

skeletons with flowers.

We had also at Aix a very celebrated preacher named De Coq. I went to

hear him, and, though much struck with his fluency of language, did not

much admire his style of preaching; there was too much of cant and

declamation, and at times he made a most intolerable noise, roaring as

if he were addressing an army. This man, however, succeeded in drawing

tears from the audience; but this did not surprise me, for it is

astonishing how easily this is accomplished. This reminds me of a scene

which I witnessed one evening at the theatre at Aix. We were seated next

an old Marquise with whom we were acquainted. The tragedy of Meropè, and

particularly the part of the son Egistus, was butchered in a very

superior style; the Marquise turned to my sister, and said to her, "Oh

how touching! how does it happen that it does not make you cry? But you

shall see me cry in a minute; I shall just think of my poor son whom

Napoleon took for the conscription." She then by degrees worked herself

up into a fit of tears, and really cried for a pretty tolerable space of

time. A most amusing soliloquy took place at our house the night before

the national guard left Aix, in pursuit of Bonaparte. This lady came to

pay us a visit; and after crying very prettily, she exclaimed, "Oh, the

_barbare_, he has taken away my son--he has ruined my concert which I

had fixed for Thursday--we were to have had such music!--and Jule, my

son, was to have sung; but Jule is gone, perhaps to----_Oh, mon Dieu!

mon Dieu!_--and I had laid out three hundred pounds in repairing my

houses at Marseilles, and not one of them will now be let--and I had

engaged Ciprè (a fiddler), for Thursday; and we should have been so

happy."--But this is a most extraordinary episode to introduce when

talking of the state of religion.

Some measures taken latterly by the King, seem to have been but ill

received by the French, and they then shewed how little attention they

were inclined to pay to religious restraints, which were at variance

with their interests and their pleasures: I allude to the shutting of

the theatres and the shops on Sunday. Perhaps, considering the nature of

their religion, and the long habit which had sanctioned the devoting of

this day to amusement, the measure was too hasty. Certain it is, that

neither this measure, nor the celebration of the death of Louis XVI. did

any good to the Bourbon cause. The last could not fail to awaken many

disagreeable feelings of remorse and of shame: It was a kind of

punishment to all who had in any way joined in that horrid event. At

Aix, the solemn ceremony was repeatedly interrupted by the noise of the

military. We remarked one man in particular, who continued laughing,

and beating his musket on the ground. On leaving the church, our

landlord told us, he was one of those who had led one of the Marseilles

bands at that time; and that there were in that small community, who had

assembled in church, more than five or six others of the same

description. How many of these men must there have been in all France

whose feelings, long laid asleep, were awakened by such a ceremony!

_ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE_.

NAPOLEON'S greatest ambition was to inter-meddle with everything in the

kingdom. With most of the changes which his restless spirit has

produced, the French have no great reason to be satisfied; but all

agree, that with regard to the administration of justice, and the

courts, for the trial of civil suits in France, the alterations which he

has introduced, have been ultimately of essential benefit to the

country. Previous to his accession to the government, the sources of

equity were universally contaminated, and the influence of corruption

most deeply felt in every part of the constitution of their courts. On

the accession of Napoleon to the throne, the most respectable and able

men among the judges and magistrates were continued in their

appointments, and the vacancies, occasioned by the dismission of those

found guilty of corruption, (many of whom had, during the confusions of

the revolution, actually seized their situations), were supplied, in

frequent instances, by those of the older nobility, whose characters and

principles were known and respected. In addition to this, the civil and

the criminal codes were both carefully revised. In this revisal, the

greatest legal talents in the nation were employed. The laws of

different nations, more particularly of England, were brought to

contribute in the formation of a new code; and by a compilation from the

Roman, the French and the English law, a new institute, or body of civil

and criminal justice, was formed, intended for the regulation of the

whole kingdom. Previous to this change, it must be observed, that the

laws, in the different provinces of the kingdom, were in some measure

formed _upon_, and always interwoven _with_, the particular observances

and customs of their respective provinces; the inevitable consequence

was, that every province, possessing different usages, had also a

different code. [44]"La bizarrerie des loix," says Mercier, "et la

varieté des coutumes font que l'avocat le plus savant devient un ignore

des qu'il se trouve en Gasgogne, ou en Normandie. Il perd a Vernon, un

procés qu'il avoit gagné a Poissy. Prenez le plus habile pour la

consultation, et la plaidoyerie, eh bien, il sera obligé d'avoir son

avocat et son procureur, si on lui intente un proces dans le resort de

la plupart des autres parlemens." The consequence of this was an

uncertainty, intricacy, and want of any thing like regulating principles

in the laws, and an incoherency and inconsistency in the administration

of both civil and criminal justice.

The improvements introduced by the late Emperor, have therefore,

considered under this point of view, been of no common benefit to the

kingdom, as they have given, to some measure, certainty, principle and

consistency, the essential attributes of good laws, to what was

formerly a mass of confusion.

At Aix, where we resided, the head court is held for four provinces, and

there is a college for the study of law and divinity. Most of the

acquaintances I there formed were gentlemen belonging to the law; many

of them had been liberally educated, were men of talents, and some of

them possessed acquirements which would have done honour to any bar. The

opinion of all these was strongly in favour of the new codes; and they

go so far as to say, that when the matter comes under consideration,

there are very few things which the present government will change, and

very few judges who will lose their situations.

They allowed, however, that latterly, Napoleon had forgotten his usual

moderation, and, incensed against the importation of foreign

merchandise, had instituted a court, and formed a new and most rigorous

code for the trial of all cases of smuggling and contraband trade. But

fortunately for the people, this court had scarcely commenced its severe

inflictions, when the deposition of Napoleon, and the subsequent peace

with England, rendered its continuance unnecessary. The punishments

awarded by this court, were, in their rigour, infinitely more terrible

than that of any other in Europe. There was not the slightest

proportionment of the punishment to the offence. For the sale of the

smallest proportion of contraband goods, the unfortunate culprit was

condemned immediately to eight or ten years labour amongst the

galley-slaves. For the weightier offences, the importation of larger

quantities of forbidden goods, perpetual labour, and even death, were

not unfrequently pronounced.

I was informed, that when Napoleon commanded the Senate to pass the

decree for the institution of this court, one of the members asked him,

if he believed he would find Frenchmen capable of executing his orders,

and enforcing such laws? His answer was, "my salaries will soon find

judges;" and the consequence of this determination, upon his part, was,

that while he paid the judges of the other tribunals at Aix by a

miserable annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds, and two hundred

pounds, the judges of the court of contraband were ordered to receive

seven hundred pounds and eight hundred pounds. Napoleon was perfectly

right in his opinion; that such was the want of honour and principle,

and such the excessive poverty of France, that these salaries would soon

find judges. I have heard from unquestionable authority, that, for the

last vacancy which was filled up in that court, there were ten

candidates.

The court-room, in which this law tribunal was held, is now occupied by

a society of musical amateurs, and a concert was given there, during our

stay at Aix, once every week. One of the lawyers, in talking of this

court, informed me, that in that very room, where the judges of the

court of contraband sat, he had played in comedy and tragedy, pleaded

causes, had taken his part in concerts, and danced at balls, under its

several revolutions, its different political phases of a theatre, a

court of justice, a concert and a ball-room. Exactly similar to this was

the fate of the churches, palaces, and the houses of individuals under

Napoleon, which were alternately barracks, hospitals, stables, courts of

justice, _caffés, restaurats_, &c.

The penal code of the late Emperor breathes throughout a spirit of

humanity, which must astonish every one acquainted with his character.

The punishment of death, which, according to Blackstone, may be

inflicted by the English law in one hundred and sixty different

offences, is now in France confined to the very highest crimes only; the

number of which does not exceed twelve. A minute attention has been

paid to the different degrees of guilt in the commission of the same

crime; and according to these, the punishments are as accurately

proportioned as the cases will permit. One species of capital punishment

has been ordained instead of that multitude of cruel and barbarous

deaths which were marshalled in terrible array along the columns of the

former code. This punishment is decapitation. The only exception to this

is in the case of parricide, in which, previous to decapitation, the

right hand is cut off; and in the punishment for high-treason, in which

the prisoner is made to walk barefoot, and with a crape veil over his

head to the scaffold, where he is beheaded. Torture was abolished by

Louis XVI., and has never afterwards been resumed.

After Napoleon had it in view to form a new code for France, he was at

great pains to collect together the most upright and honourable, as well

as the most able amongst the French lawyers; the principal members of

whom were Tronchet, one of the counsel who spoke boldly and openly in

defence of the unfortunate Louis XVI., Portalis, Malville, and Bigot de

Preameneau. Under such superintendance, the work was finished in a short

time.

The trial by jury has been for some time established in France; but the

Emperor, dreading that so admirable an institution, if managed with an

impartial hand might, in too serious a manner, impose restraint upon his

individual despotism, took particular care to subject those crimes,

which he dreaded might arise out of the feelings of the public, to the

cognisance of special tribunals. All trials originating out of the

conscription, are placed under the care of a special court, composed of

a certain number of the criminal judges and military officers. In

France, there is no grand jury; but its place is supplied by that which

they have denominated the _Juré d'Accusation_. This is a court composed

of a few members amongst the civil judges, assisted by the

Procureur-General or Attorney-General. Their juries for the trial of

criminals are selected from much higher classes in society than with us

in England; a circumstance the effect of absolute necessity, owing to

the extreme ignorance of the middling ranks and the lower classes. In

the conducting of criminal trials, the manner of procedure is in a great

measure different from our English form. A criminal, when first

apprehended, is carried, before the magistrate of the town, generally

the Mayor. He there undergoes repeated examinations; all the witnesses,

are summoned and examined, in a manner similar to the precognitions

taken before the Sheriff of Scotland, and the whole process is nearly as

tedious as upon the trial. All the papers and declarations are then sent

with the accused, to the _Juré d'Accusation_, who also thoroughly

examine the prisoner and the witnesses; if grounds are found for the

trial, the papers are immediately laid before the "_Cour d'Assize_."

Before this court, the prisoner is again specially examined by its

president. His former declarations are compared and confronted with his

present answers, and the strongest evidence against him, is often in

this manner extracted from his own story. It might certainly be

imagined, that with all these precautions, it would be scarcely possible

that the guilty should escape. The very contrary is the case, and I have

been informed by some of the ablest lawyers in the courts here, that out

of ten prisoners, really guilty, six haves good chance of getting clear

off. They ascribe this to two principal causes, 1st, That the

proceedings become so extremely tedious and intricate, that it is

impossible for the jury to keep them all in their recollection, and

that, forgetting the general tenor of the evidence, they suffer the

last impressions, those made by the counsel for the prisoner, to bias

their judgment, and to regulate their verdict. In the 2d place, It is

customary for the president of the court to enter into a long

examination and cross-examination of the prisoner, (assisted and

prompted in his questions by the rest of the judges), in a severe and

peremptory style, and what is too often the case with the judge, in his

anxiety to condemn, to identify himself with the public prosecutor. He

appears, in the eye of the jury, more in the light of an interested

individual, anxious to drag the offender in the most summary manner to

the punishment of the law, than as an upright and unbiassed judge, whose

duty it is coolly to consider the whole case, to weigh the evidence of

the respective witnesses, to consider, with benevolent attention, the

defence of the prisoner, and, after all this, to pronounce, with

authoritative impartiality, the sentence of the law. This naturally

prejudices the jury in favour of the prisoner; and few, even in our own

country, who may have been witness to the common routine of our criminal

procedure, will not themselves have felt that immediate and irresistible

impression, which is made upon the mind of the spectator, when he sees

on one side the solemn array of the court, the judges, the officers, and

all the terrible show of justice; and on the other, the trembling,

solitary, unbefriended criminal, who awaits in silence the sentence of

the law. One difference, however, between the effects produced by the

respective criminal codes of France and England, ought to be here

remarked. In England, owing to the principles and practice of our

criminal law, it too frequently happens, that the most open and

notorious criminals escape, whilst the less able, but more innocent

offenders, those who might be easily reclaimed, who have gone little way

in the road of crime, but who are less able to do themselves justice at

their trial, fall an easy sacrifice to the rigour of our criminal code.

In France, owing to the custom of the cross-examinations of the

prisoner, by the president and the different judges, this can never

happen. The notoriety of his character prevents the common feelings of

compassion in the breasts of the jury; the severity of the

interrogations renders it impossible that any fictitious story, when

confronted with his former examinations before the magistrate and the

_Juré d'Accusation_, can long hold together, and he is, in this manner,

generally convicted by the evidence extracted from his own mouth upon

the trial.

The present style of French pleading is exactly what we might be led to

expect from the peculiar state of manners, and the particular character

of that singular people. It is infinitely further removed from dry legal

ratiocination, and much more allied to real eloquence, than any thing we

met with in England. Any one who is acquainted with the natural inborn

fluency in conversation of every individual whom he meets in France, may

be able to form some idea of the astonishing command of words in a set

of men who are bred to public speaking. One bad effect arises from this,

which is, that if the counsel is not a man of ability, this amazing

volubility, which is found equally in all, serves more to weaken than to

convince; for the little sense there may be, is spread over so wide a

surface, or is diluted with such a dose of verbiage, that the whole

becomes tasteless and insipid to the last degree. But this fluency, on

the other hand, in the hands of a man of talents and genius, is a most

powerful weapon. It hurries you along with a velocity which, from its

very rapidity, is delightful; and where it cannot convince, it amuses,

fascinates, and overpowers you.

One thing struck me as remarkable in the French form of trial, which

perhaps might be with benefit adopted by England. All exceptions and

challenges to jurymen are made in private, and not, as with us, in open

court. This is a more delicate method, and no man's character can suffer

(as is sometimes the case in England) by being rejected. The trial by

jury is very far from being popular in France; indeed, upon an average I

have heard more voices against it than advocates for its continuance.

The great cause for this dissatisfaction is that which leads to various

other calamitous consequences in that kingdom,--the want of public

spirit in France.--The French have literally no idea of any duties which

they must voluntarily, without the prospect of reward, undertake for

their country. It never enters their heads that a man may be responsible

for the neglect of those public duties, for the performance of which he

receives no regular salary.--There is a constant connection in their

minds, between business and payment, between money and obligation: and

as for that noble and patriotic spirit which will undergo any labour

from a disinterested sense of public duty, it is long since any such

feeling has existed, and it will probably, if things continue in their

present state, be long before it will exist again in France.

It might be imagined, from the advantages in the administration of

criminal justice, that France was in this respect equal, if not superior

to Britain.--This, however, is by no means the case. The written

criminal code of France is indeed apparently more humane, and the civil

code less intricate and voluminous than with us in England. But there is

a wide and striking difference between this code, drawn up with all the

luminousness of speculative benevolence, and the manner in which the

same code is carried into execution: What signifies the purity of the

code, if the executive part of the system, the nomination of the judges,

the direction of the sentences, and the reversal of the whole

proceedings, was submitted to the power, and constituted part of the

iron prerogative, of a despotic Sovereign. It was the constant practice

of the late Emperor to appoint, whenever it was necessary for the

accomplishment of his own ends, what he denominated a COUR PREVOITALE--a

species of court consisting of judges of his own selection, who, with

summary procedure, condemned or acquitted, according to the pleasure of

its master. Not only was this court erected, which was in every respect

under the controul of the Emperor, but by means of his police

emissaries, of those pensioned spies whom he insinuated into all the

offices, and the remotest branches of the political administration, he

contrived to overawe the different judges, to keep them in perpetual

fear of the loss of their official situation, and in this manner to beat

down the evidence, to bias the sentence, and finally, to direct the

verdict. The judicial situations became latterly so completely under the

influence of the creatures of the Court, that I was informed by the

lawyers, that no judge was sure of remaining for two months in his

official situation.

Upon the important subject of criminal delinquency, I am sorry to say

the only information I contrived to collect was extremely

unsatisfactory. I had been promised, by an intelligent barrister, with

whom I had the good fortune to become acquainted, a detailed opinion

upon the state of criminal delinquency in France; but in the meantime

Napoleon landed from Elba, and my friend was called away from his civil

duties to join the national guard, who were marched, when it was too

late, in pursuit of Bonaparte.

From the calendar of crimes, however, which I had the opportunity of

examining at the Aix assizes, as well as from the decided opinion of

many of the lawyers there, I should be induced to hazard the opinion,

that the crimes of robbery, burglary, and murder, are infinitely less

frequent than in England. The great cause of this is undoubtedly to be

attributed to the excellence of their police. Wherever such a preventive

as the system of Espionage, and that carried to the perfection which we

find it possessing in that country, exists, it is impossible that the

greater crimes should be found to any alarming decree. There is a power,

a vigour and an omnipresence in this effective police, which can check

every criminal excess before it has attained any thing like a general or

rooted influence throughout the kingdom; and its power, under the

administration of Napoleon, was exerted to an excessive degree in

France. Such a mode, however, of diminishing the catalogue of crimes,

could exist only under a state of things which the inhabitants of a free

country would not suffer for a moment; and indeed, to anyone possessing

but the faintest idea of what liberty is, there is something in the idea

of a system of espionage which is dreadful. It is like some of those

dark and gigantic dæmons, embodied by the genius of fiction, the form of

which you cannot trace, although you feel its presence, which stalks

about enveloped in congenial gloom, and whose iron grasp falls upon you

the more terrible, because it is unsuspected. Fortunately such a monster

can never be met with in a free country. It shuns the pure, and

untainted atmosphere of liberty, and its lungs will only play with

freedom in the foul and thick air of a decided despotism.

The effects of this system of espionage, in destroying every thing upon

which individual happiness in society depends; the free and unrestrained

communication of opinion between friends, and even the confidence of

domestic society, can hardly be conceived by any one who has lived in a

free country. Upon this subject, I had an opportunity of conversing with

a most respectable and intelligent British merchant, who, previous to

the revolution, had been a partner in a banking-house in the French

metropolis; and afterwards had the misfortune of being kept a prisoner

in Paris for the last twelve years. The accounts he gave us regarding

the excessive rigour of the police, and the jealousy of every thing like

intercourse, were truly terrible. It had become a maxim in Paris, an

axiom whose truth was proved by the general practice and conduct of its

inhabitants, to believe every third person a spy. Any matter of moment,

any thing bordering upon confidential communication, was alone to be

trusted _entre quatre yeux_. The servants in every family, it was well

known, were universally in the pay of government. They could not be

hired till they produced their licenses, and these licenses, to serve as

domestics, they all procured from the office of the police. From that

office their wages were as certain, and probably (if the information

they conveyed was of importance), more regularly paid than those they

received from their masters. Even, therefore, in the most secret

retirement of your own family, you could never speak with perfect

freedom. Mr B----, the gentleman above mentioned, informed me, that

before he dared to mention, even to his wife or family, any subject

connected with the affairs of the day, or when they wished to speak

freely and unrestrainedly upon any point whatever, every corner of the

room was first examined, the chinks of the doors, and the walls of the

adjoining apartments underwent a similar scrutiny; and even then they

did not dare to introduce any subject which was nearly connected with

the political government of the country.

A lawyer, who lived upon the same floor with this gentleman, was

astonished, one morning, by the entry of the police officers into his

room at four in the morning, without the slightest previous warning.

They pulled him out of bed--hurried him away to the police office, kept

him in strict custody for several days, seized all his papers; and

having at last discovered that their suspicions were ill-founded, and

that he had been secured upon erroneous information, he was brought back

to his lodgings by the same hands, and in the same summary manner in

which he had been removed; and he is to this day ignorant of the cause

of his detention, or the nature of the offence of which he had been

suspected.

Amongst the few English who, along with Mr B. were detained in Paris, it

was naturally to be expected, that the precautions taken to deceive the

police, and to prevent the suspicion of any secret intercourse, were

still more severe and rigorous than were used by the native French. As

the subjects of this country, they naturally became the objects of

continual suspicion, and were more strictly watched than any other

persons. They contrived, however, to procure, although at distant

intervals, the sight of an English newspaper. Nine or ten months

frequently elapsed without their receiving any intelligence from

England. When they had the good fortune to procure one, the precautions

necessary to be adopted were hardly to be believed. The same gentleman

informed me, that upon receiving an English paper, he did not venture to

mention the circumstance even to his wife and children, lest, in their

joy, some incautious words might have escaped from them before the

servants of the family, in which case, detection would have been

immediate, and imprisonment inevitable. Keeping it, therefore, entirely

to himself, he concealed it from every eye during the day, and at night,

after the family had gone to bed, he sat up, lighted his taper, and,

when every thing was still and silent about him, ventured, only then, to

read over the paper, and to get by heart the most important parts of the

intelligence regarding England; and he afterwards transmitted the

invaluable present to some secret friend, who, in the same manner, dared

only to peruse it at midnight, and with the same precautions.

A very sensible distinction has been made in the French code, in the

difference of punishment which is inflicted upon robbery, when it has or

has not been accompanied by murder; and the consequence of such

distinction is, that in that country the most determined robberies are

seldom, as they often are with us, accompanied with murder; whilst the

accurate proportionment of punishment to the crimes, encourages persons

possessing information to come forward, and removes those natural

scruples which all must feel, when they reflect that they may be the

chief instruments in bringing down a capital penalty upon the head of an

individual, whose trivial offence was in no respect deserving of this

last and severest punishment of the law.

The crime of which I heard most frequently, and of which the common

occurrence may be traced to the miserable condition to which trade and

commerce were, during the last few years, reduced in France, and to that

general laxity of moral conduct which even now distinguishes that

country, was _Fraudulent Bankruptcy_. The merchant, no longer possessing

the means of making his fortune by fair speculation, has recourse to

this nefarious mode of bettering his condition. He settles with his

creditors for a small per centage; disposes of his property by

fictitious sales, _ventes simulees_, and thus enriches himself upon the

ruin of his creditors. At a small town in the south of France, where I

for sometime resided, there were several individuals, who, it was well

known, had made their fortunes in this manner; and at Marseilles it

had, as I understood, become in some measure a common practice. The

crime is seldom discovered, attended at least with those circumstances

of corroborative evidence which are necessary in bringing it to trial.

Upon detection, accompanied by complete proof, the punishment is severe.

It consists in being condemned for fourteen years, or for life, to the

galleys, and in branding the delinquent with letters denoting his crime:

_B F_ for Fraudulent Bankruptcy. At one of the trials of the Aix

assizes, at which I was present, a young man of excellent family, son of

the Chevalier de St Louis, was convicted of this crime, and although it

was proved that he had been deceived by his partner, a man of decidedly

bad character, but possessed of deep cunning, he was condemned for

fourteen years to the galleys: Owing to a flaw in the process, the

sentence was set aside by the Cour de Cassation, or Supreme Court of

Appeal at Paris, and a new trial was ordered.

From the same cause, which I have mentioned above, the perfection of

their police, petty theft is not of such common occurrence in France as

in England. The country, in short, at the time when we passed through

it, was very quiet, and few crimes were committed; but on the

disbanding of the troops, a great change may be expected. These restless

creatures must find work, or they will make it for themselves. It is a

hard question how the un-warlike Louis is to employ them. Many talk of

the necessity of sending an immense force to St Domingo; and it would

appear wise policy to devise some expedition of this nature, which would

swallow up the restless, the profligate, and the abandoned.

It is not our intention, nor indeed would the limits of our work permit,

of entering into the question of what ought to be the conduct of the

King. But there is another question, from answering which we can

scarcely escape.

Are the majority of the French nation well affected to the Bourbons?

This is a question which is put to every person who returns from France.

It is a natural, a most important, but a most difficult one to answer. I

endeavoured, by every method in my power, by a communication with those

gentlemen of the province where I resided, whose characters and

situations entitled them to implicit credit; by endeavouring to satisfy

myself as to the real sentiments of the peasantry, and by a perusal of

those documents regarding the state of the country, which were believed

the most authentic, to acquire upon this subject something like

satisfactory information. As to the sentiments entertained at present by

the generality of the French people upon this subject, I cannot speak,

but with regard to the period which I passed in France, which began in

November 1814, and ended at the time of the landing of Napoleon from

Elba, I have no hesitation in declaring, that it appeared to me, that

the majority of the French nation were at that time hostile to the

interests of the Bourbons. On the other hand, in consulting the same

sources of information as I have above enumerated, it was as evident

that they are not generally favourable to the restoration of the

Imperial Government under Napoleon. What appeared at that period to be

the general desire of the nation, was the establishment of a new

constitution, formed upon those principles, embracing those new

interests, and compatible with that new state of things which had been

created by the revolution. It was on this account that they favoured

Napoleon.

The situation of France then exhibited perhaps one of the most singular

pictures ever presented to view by a civilized nation; a people without

exterior commerce, and whose interior trade and manufactures, except in

some favourite spots, was almost annihilated; whose youth was yearly

drained off to supply the army, but whose agriculture has been

constantly improving, which, for the last twelve years, had been

subjected to all the complicated horrors of a state of war, but which,

after all this, could yet earnestly desire a continuance of this state.

A nation where there was scarcely to be found an intermediate rank

between the Sovereign and the peasantry--for since the destruction of

the _ancienne noblesse_, and more particularly, since all ranks have

been admitted to a participation in the dignities conferred on the

military, all have become equally aspiring, and all consider themselves

upon the same level:--A nation where, notwithstanding the division into

parties, possessing the most opposite interests and opinions, and

pulling every different way, the greater part certainly desired a

government similar to Napoleon's, and would even unite to obtain it:--A

nation who talked of nothing but liberty, and yet suffered themselves to

be subjected to the conscription, to the loss of their trade, to the

severest taxes, the greatest personal deprivations, and the most

complete restraint in the expression of their opinions--to the continued

extortions of a military chief, the most despotic who ever reigned in a

European country, and whose acts of oppression are truly Asiatic; and

who tamely bore all this oppression, supported by their national vanity,

because they wish to bear the name _of the great people_: Great, because

their ambition is unbounded; great as a nation of rapacious and

blood-thirsty soldiers; great in every species of immorality and vice!

Who, led away by this miserable vanity, have been false to their oaths,

so recently pledged to a mild and virtuous prince, very unfit to rule

such a race of villains, because he is mild and virtuous.

But it is not generally believed, that the majority in France favoured

Napoleon, though it is but a natural consequence of the state of the

country; I shall therefore enumerate the divisions of ranks, and the

sentiments of each.--All allow that the army were his friends; on that

subject, therefore, I shall say nothing.--Next to the army, let us look

to the civil authorities.--All these were in his favour--all that part

of the civil authorities at least, who have the immediate management of

the people.--It is in vain that the heads of office in Paris, the

miserable bodies styled the Chambers of Parliament and the Counsellors

of the realm, were favourably inclined towards the King.--Napoleon well

knew that these were not the men who rule France.--France, as an entire

kingdom, may be said to be governed by these men; but France,

subdivided, is governed by the prefects, and the gens-d'armes of

Napoleon.--Not a man of these was displaced by the King, and although

they were all furious in their proclamations against the usurper, they,

with few exceptions, joined him, and these few exceptions were removed

by him.--The most powerful men in France under Napoleon were these

prefects and gens-d'armes, and knowing their power, he was always

cautious in their selection; wherever he conceived that they really

favoured the Bourbon interest, he removed them.

Next, the whole class of Receveurs were his devoted friends.--These men

were all continued in place under the un-warlike reign of Louis, but

where no conscription and no droits reunis were to be enforced, they had

poverty staring them in the face.--Is it unnatural that they should

favour him whose government enriches them?

To the shadows of nobility, to the ghost of aristocracy which had

re-appeared under the King, no power or influence can be

attributed,--they dared not think, and could not act.

The better classes of the inhabitants of the cities, whether the traders

and manufacturers, or the bourgeoise of France, are those who were the

most decided enemies of Bonaparte: but let us look how their arm is

weakened and palsied by the situation of their property.--They have many

of them purchased the lands of the emigrants at very low prices, and, in

many instances, from persons who could only bestow possession without

legal tenure.--These feel uneasy in their new possessions; they dread

the ascendancy which the nobility might still obtain under their lawful

Sovereign: Napoleon came proclaiming to them that he would maintain them

in their properties. Nor were all the traders and manufacturers his

enemies.--He encouraged the trade of Lyons, for example, of Paris, of

Rouen, and other interior towns, and he pitted these interior towns

against the sea-ports of Bourdeaux, Marseilles, &c. Thus, even with

commercial men, he had some friends.--And here, in mentioning Paris, I

must observe, that the most slavish deference is paid by the whole of

France to the opinions, as well as the fashions, which prevail at the

capital. From the encouragement which he offered to its interior trade,

from the grand works which he was constantly carrying on, affording

labour to the idle rabble; from the magnificent _spectacles_ supplied by

his reviews, fetes, and festivities, and most of all, from the

celebrated system of gulling and stage-trick, practised by his police,

and through the medium of the press--From all these circumstances, it

arises, that Napoleon was no where so much beloved as at Paris; and

Napoleon took good care that Paris afforded to all France an example

such as he would wish them to follow.--It is difficult to say why the

French should tamely follow the example of their despot; but they forgot

that he was a despot, and they were not singular as a nation in

following the example _of their chief_, though, perhaps, they carried

their obedience to a more slavish pitch than any other people.--"En

France (says Mons. Montesquieu) il en est des manieres et de la facon de

vivre, comme des modes, les Français changent des meurs selon l'age de

leur Roi,--Le Monarque pouvait meme parvenir a rendre la nation grave

s'il l'avait entrepris."

Next in rank, though, from their numbers and influence, perhaps, after

the army, the most powerful body in the community, the situation of the

peasants must be considered. They had either seized upon, or purchased,

at a low rate, the lands of the emigrants, and the national domains;

these they had brought into the best state of cultivation; without the

interference of any one, they directly drew the profits. The oppression

in agriculture, which existed before the revolution, whether from the

authority of the Seigneurs, from the corvees, from tythes, game laws,

&c. all are done away--become rich and flourishing, they are able to pay

the taxes, which, under Napoleon, were not so severe as is generally

supposed.--But they had every thing to fear from the return of the

noblesse, and from the re-establishment of the ranks and order which

must exist under the new constitution of France. Can it then be

considered that the peasantry should see their own interest in

maintaining the revolutionary order of things? The more unjust their

tenure, the more cause have they to fear; and unenlightened as many of

them are, their fears once raised, will not easily be controlled.

Napoleon had most politically excited alarm among them, and they are

favourably inclined towards him. This powerful body have no leaders to

direct them: The respectable and wealthy farmer, possessing great landed

property; the yeoman, the country gentleman,--all these ranks are

abolished. Where the views of the Sovereign are inimical to the

peasantry, as was imagined under Louis XVIII. that body will powerfully

resist him; where they were in concert, as under Napoleon, that body

became his chief support next to his military force.

It is not enough that Louis XVIII. had never invaded their property--it

is not enough that in different shapes he issued proclamations, and

assurances, that he had no such intentions,--the peasantry felt

insecure; and they dreaded the influence of his counsellors, and of the

noblesse. The low rabble of France, at all times restless, and desirous

of change, were favourable to Napoleon;--they wished for a continuance

of that thoughtless dissipation, and dreadful immorality, which he

encouraged; they wished for employment in his public works,--they looked

for situations in his army.

It may then be said, that among all ranks Napoleon had friends. Who then

were against him? All those who wished for peace: all those who desired

the re-establishment of the church: all those who had the cause of

morality and virtue at heart--all the good,--but, alas! in France, they

were few in number.

I have only enumerated the great and leading parties in the community.

It was my intention to have touched on the sentiments of the different

professions, but I have been already too tedious; I shall here only

enumerate a few of the classes, who, as they are thrown out of bread by

the return of the Bourbons, and the new system of government, will be

ever busily employed in favouring a despotic and military government, a

continuance of war, and of a conscription.

1st, All the prefects, collectors of taxes, and their agents, who were

employed in the countries subjected to Napoleon.

2d, The many officers, and under agents, employed in the conscription,

and in collecting the droits reunis.

3d, The police emissaries of all ranks, forming that enormous mass who

conducted the grand machine of espionage, directed the _public spirit_,

and supplied information to the late Emperor.

4th, All the rich and wealthy army contractors, furnishers, &c. &c.

Having attempted to shew that the situation of the people in France was

highly favourable to the views of the usurper, let me now observe, that

there are other circumstances which greatly aided his cause.

1st, The vanity of the nation was hurt: they had not forgotten their

defeat by the allies, and the proceedings of Congress, in confining

within narrow bounds, that nation, who, but a year ago, gave laws to the

continent, had tended to aggravate their feelings. It is difficult for

any nation to shrink at once into insignificance, from the possession of

unlimited power; it is impossible for France to maintain an inglorious

peace.

2d, The spirit of the nation had become completely military. One year of

peace cannot be supposed to have done away the effects of twelve years

of victory.

3d, The general laxity of morals, and the habits of dissipation and

idleness, which have followed from the revolution, and have been taught

by the military, and especially by the disbanded soldiers, were

favourable to him.

4th, He came at the very time when his prisoners had returned from all

quarters of the globe; he came again to unite them under the _revered

eagle_, emblem of rapine and plunder, which they everywhere looked up

to; in short, if it had been suggested to any one, possessing a thorough

knowledge of the situation of France, to say at what time Napoleon was

most likely to succeed, he must have pitched on the moment selected by

him. There are indeed many circumstances which induce me to suppose,

that the plan for his restoration had been partly formed before he left

Fontainbleau; for it is well known, that he long hesitated--that he

often thought of making use of his remaining force, (a force of about

thirty thousand men), and fighting his way to Italy; that his Marshals

only prevailed on him, and that he yielded to their advice, when he

might have thought and acted for himself. The conduct of Ney favours the

supposition: he selected for him the spot, of all others, the most

favourable for his views, should they be directed to Italy; he

stipulated for his rank, for a guard of veterans; he is described as

using a boldness and insolence of speech to Napoleon, which he would not

have dared to use, had there not been an understanding between them. He

covered his treachery by a garb of the same nature, when in presence of

his lawful Sovereign: open in his abuse of the usurper, while laying

plans to join him.

There is a very peculiar circumstance in Bonaparte's character, which

is, that at times, he makes the most unguarded speeches, forgetful of

his own interest. Thus, when the national guard of Lyons begged

permission to accompany him on his march, he said to them, "You have

suffered the brother of your King to leave you unattended--go--you are

unworthy to follow me." Thus, when at Frejus, he said to the Mayor,--"I

am sorry that Frejus is in Provence; I hate Provence, but I have always

wished your town well; and, _ere long, I will be among you again_." This

speech, which I had from the Prefect of Aix, who was intimately attached

to Napoleon and his interests, I know to be authentic. In it, even the

place of his landing seemed to be determined. One thing is certain, that

the plan, if not commenced before his abdication, was, at all events,

begun immediately after; for a long time must have been necessary to

arrange matters in such a manner that he should not find the slightest

opposition in his march to Paris.

I have thus attempted to give my readers some account of the state of

France under Napoleon. From this account, hastily written, they will

draw their own conclusions. Mine, attached as I am to one party; knowing

little of politics, only interested as a Briton in the fate of my

country, are these:--That France decidedly wishes to live by war and

plunder--that France deserves no such government as that of the virtuous

Louis--that, till the soldiery are disbanded, and their leaders

punished, France can never be governed by the Bourbons:--that the

majority in the nation do not wish for Napoleon in particular, but for a

revolutionary government, and that we have no right of interference with

their choice: but that the propriety of our immediately engaging in war

could not be doubted, for our very existence as a nation depended on

such conduct--that we had the same right to attack Bonaparte, as we had

to attack a common robber, more particularly, if this robber had

repeatedly planned and devised the destruction of our property.

They will draw the happiest conclusions in favour of our own blessed

country, from a comparison with France--looking on that unhappy nation,

they will exclaim with me, in the beautiful words of La Harpe:

[45]"J'excuse et n'envie point ceux qui peuvent vivre comme s'ils

n'avoient ni souffert ni vu souffrir; mais qu'ils me pardonnent de ne

pouvoir les imiter. Ces jours d'une degradation entière et innouie de

la nature humaine sont sous mes yeux, pesent sur mon ame et retombent

sans cesse sous ma plume, destinée à les retraçer jusqu'à mon dernier

moment."[46]

CHAPTER V.

MODERN FRENCH CHARACTER AND MANNERS.

An Englishman never dreams of entering into conversation without some

previous knowledge upon the point which is the subject of discussion.

You will pass but few days in France before you will be convinced, that

to a Frenchman this is not at all necessary. The moment he enters the

room, or caffé, where a circle may happen to be conversing, he

immediately takes part in the discussion--of whatever nature, or upon

whatever subject that may be, is not of the most distant consequence to

him. He strikes in with the utmost self-assurance and adroitness,

maintains a prominent part in the conversation with the most perfect

plausibility; and although, from his want of accurate information, he

will rarely instruct, he seldom fails to amuse by the exuberance of his

fancy, and the rapidity of his elocution. But take any one of his

sentences to pieces, analyze it, strip it of its gaudy clothing and

fanciful decorations, and you will be astonished what skeletons of bare,

shallow, and spiritless ideas will frequently present themselves.

In England, it often happens, that a man who is perfectly master of the

subject in discussion, from the effect of shyness or embarrassment, will

convey his information with such an appearance of awkwardness and

hesitation, as to create a temporary suspicion of dulness, or of

incapacity. But upon further examination, the true and sterling value of

his remarks is easily discernible. The same can very seldom be said of a

Frenchman. His conversation, which delights at the moment, generally

fades upon recollection. The information of the first is like a

beautiful gem, whose real value is concealed by the encrustation with

which it is covered; the other is a dazzling but sorry paste in a

brilliant setting. [47]"Un Français," says M. de Stael, with great

truth, "scait encore parler, lors meme il n'a point d'idees;" and the

reason why a Frenchman can do so is, because ideas, which are the

essential requisites in conversation to any other man, are not so to

him. He is in possession of many substitutes, composed of a few of those

set phrases and accommodating sentences which fit into any subject; and

these, mixed up with appropriate nods, significant gestures, and above

all, with the characteristic shrugging of the shoulders, are ever ready

at hand when the tide of his ideas may happen to run shallow.

The perpetual cheerfulness of the French, under almost every situation,

is well known, and has been repeatedly remarked. One great secret by

which they contrive to preserve this invariable levity of mind, is

probably this extraordinary talent of theirs for a particular kind of

conversation. An Englishman, engaged in the business and duties of life,

even at his hours of relaxation, is occupied in thinking upon them. In

the midst of company he is often an insulated being; his mind, refusing

intercourse with those around him, retires within itself. In this manner

he inevitably becomes, even in his common hours, grave and serious, and

if under misfortunes, perhaps melancholy and morose. A Frenchman is in

every respect a different being: He cannot be grave or unhappy, because

he never allows himself time to become so. His mind is perpetually

busied with the affairs of the moment. If he is in company, he speaks,

without introduction, to every gentleman in the room. Any thing, the

most trivial, serves him for a hook on which to hang his story; and this

generally lasts as long as he has breath to carry him on. He recounts to

you, the first hour you meet with him, his whole individual history;

diverges into anecdotes about his relations, pulls out his watch, and

under the cover shews you the hair of his mistress, apostrophizes the

curl--opens his pocket-book, insists upon your reading his letters to

her, sings you the song which he composed when he was _au desespoir_ at

their parting, asks your opinion of it, then whirls off to a discussion

on the nature of love; leaves that the next moment to philosophize upon

friendship, compliments you, _en passant_, and claims you for his

friend; hopes that the connection will be perpetual, and concludes by

asking you _to do him the honour of telling him your name_. In this

manner he is perpetually occupied; he has a part to act which renders

serious thought unnecessary, and silence impossible. If he has been

unfortunate, he recounts his distresses, and in doing so, forgets them.

His mind never reposes for a moment upon itself; his secret is to keep

it in perpetual motion, and, like a shuttlecock, to whip it back and

forward with such rapidity, that although its feathers may have been

ruffled, and its gilding effaced by many hard blows, yet neither you nor

he have time to discover it.

Nothing can present a stronger contrast between the French and English

character, and nothing evinces more clearly the superiority of the

French in conversation, and the art of amusement, than the scenes which

take place in the interior of a French diligence. They who go to France

and travel in their own carriages are not aware of what they lose.--The

interior of a French diligence, if you are tolerably fortunate in your

company, is a perfect epitome of the French nation.--When you enter a

public coach in England, it is certainly very seldom that, in the course

of the few hours you may remain in it, you meet with an entertaining

companion. Chance, indeed, may now and then throw a pleasant man in your

way; but these are but thinly sown amongst those sour and silent

gentlemen, who are your general associates, and who, now and then eyeing

each other askance, look as if they could curse themselves for being

thrown into such involuntary contiguity.

The scene in a French diligence is the most different from all this that

can be conceived. Every thing there is life, and motion, and joy.--The

coach generally holds from ten to twelve persons, and even then is

sufficiently roomy.--The moment you enter you find yourself on terms of

the most perfect familiarity with the whole set of your travelling

companions. In an instant every tongue is at work, and every individual

bent upon making themselves happy for the moment, and contributing to

the happiness of their fellow travellers. Talking, joking, laughing,

singing, reciting,--every enjoyment which is light and pleasurable is

instantly adopted.--A gentleman takes a box from his pocket, opens it,

and with a look of the most finished politeness, presents it, full of

sweetmeats, to the different ladies in succession. One of these, in

gratitude for this attention, proposes that which she well knows will be

agreeable to the whole party, some species of round game like our

cross-purposes, involving forfeits. The proposal is carried by

acclamation,--the game is instantly begun, and every individual is

included: Woe be now to the aristocracy of the interior! Old and young,

honest and dishonest, respectable and disrespectable, all are involved

in undistinguished confusion--but all are content to be so, and happy in

the exchange. The game in the meantime proceeds, and the different

forfeits become more numerous. The generality of these ensure, indeed,

from their nature, a punctuality of performance. To kiss the handsomest

woman in the party, to pay her a compliment in some extempore effusion,

or to whisper a confidence (_faire une confidence_) in her ear--all

these are hardly enjoined before they are happily accomplished. But

others, which it would be difficult to particularize, are more amusing

in their consequences, and less easy, in their execution.

The ludicrous effect of this scene is much heightened by its being often

carried on in the dark, for night brings no cessation; and we have

ourselves, in travelling in this manner in the diligence, engaged in

many a game of forfeits where, it is not too much to say, that our

play-fellows, of both sexes, were certainly nearer to the grave than

the cradle, being somewhere between fifty and fourscore. The scenes

which then take place, the undistinguished clamours of young and old,

the audible salutes from every quarter, which point to the perpetual

succession of the forfeits, altogether compose a spectacle, which to a

stranger is the most unexpected and extraordinary that can be possibly

imagined.

The conversation of a Frenchman, who possesses wit and information, is

certainly superior to that of a clever man of any other country. It has

a variety and playfulness, which, upon subjects of taste or fancy, or

literature, delights and fascinates; but even their common conversation

upon the most trivial matters is of a superior order, as far as

amusement goes. However shallowly they may think upon a subject, they

never fail to express themselves well. This is the case equally with

those of both sexes. It is true, certainly, that in their subjects for

conversation, they indulge in a wider range of selection; and in

consequence, far more frequently without evincing the slightest scruple,

overstep the bounds of decorum and delicacy. This is the inevitable

effect of the peculiarity above noticed, that they must constantly

converse; as their appetite for conversation is inordinate, their taste

is necessarily less nice; provided they continue in motion, they are

careless about the ground over which they travel. One unhappy

consequence of this certainly is, that such carelessness extends to the

women, even amongst the highest and best bred classes; and that these

ideas of delicacy and tenderness, with which we are always accustomed to

regard, in this country, the female mind, are shocked and grated against

by the occurrence of scenes, the employment of expressions, and the

mention of books which tend rather to disgust than to amuse, and which

destroy in a moment that female fascination, which can never exist

without that first and most material ingredient, modesty.

The science of conversation in France, is not, as with us, confined

principally to the higher classes, but extends to the whole body of the

people. The reason is, that the lower ranks in that country invariably

imitate the manners, style of society, and mode of conversation used by

the higher orders. The lower ranks in England converse, no doubt; but

then their conversation, and the subjects upon which it is employed, is

exactly fitted to the rank they hold in society.

In speaking of the literature of France, we shall have occasion to

remark, that there is nothing in that country like an ancient or

national poetry. This is perhaps not so much to be attributed to the

excessive ignorance of the peasantry, as to the circumstance, that from

the French peasantry invariably imitating the manners of the higher

orders, there is no adaption of the manners of the labouring orders to

the simple rank they fill in society. The innocence of rural life is

thus lost. The shepherd, the peasant girl, the rustic labourer, whom you

meet in France, are all in some measure artificial beings. They express

themselves to any stranger they meet with ease and politeness, with a

point and a vivacity which is certainly striking; but which is, of all

things, the farthest removed from nature: and it is the consequence of

this interchange which has taken place,--this imitation of the manners

of the higher orders by the lower classes of the peasantry--that we

shall in vain look for any thing in France like a simple national

poetry. The truth, the simplicity, the nature, which ought to form it,

are not to be found amongst any classes of the French people. The poetry

of France, both ancient and modern, that of Ronsard and Marot, in

earlier days; and that of Boileau, Racine, Corneille and Voltaire, in

more modern times, bears the marks of having been formed in the court.

If, for instance, in Scotland, the lower ranks, the labouring classes,

like those of France, had transplanted the fictitious manners of the

higher classes into the innocence of their cottage, or the sequestered

solitude of their vallies--where, under such a state of things, could

there ever have arisen such gifted spirits as Burns, or Ramsay, or

Ferguson? and where should we have found, that truth, that beauty, that

genuine nature, in the lives and manners of our peasantry, which has not

only furnished such poets with some of their finest subjects, but has

instructed these peasants themselves to pour out, in unpremeditated

strains, those ancient and beautiful songs, which art and education

could never have taught them; and which, in the progress of time, have

formed that unrivalled national poetry, perhaps one of the brightest

gems in the diadem of Scottish genius. But we must return to France.

The French have been always celebrated for their natural gaiety of

character. One exception from this is material to be noticed. It must

strike you the moment you look into the countenances of the soldiery, or

examine the air and manner of the generality of the lower officers. A

dark and gloomy expression, if not a suspicious, and often savage

appearance, is their characteristic feature; and although this is

disguised by occasional sallies of loud and intemperate mirth, these

sallies are more like the desperate and reckless exertions of a troop of

banditti, than the temperate and unpremeditated cheerfulness of a

regular soldiery. Nor is this look confined entirely to the military.

The habits of the whole nation are changed; but yet, with all this

alteration, there remains enough of their characteristic gaiety to

distinguish them from every other people in Europe.

Their excessive frivolity is perhaps even more remarkable than their

gaiety; they have not sufficient steadiness for the uninterrupted

avocations of graver life. In the midst of the most serious or deep

discussion, a Frenchman will suddenly stop, and, with a look of perhaps

more solemn importance than he bestowed upon the subject of debate, will

adjust the ruffle of his brother savant, adding some observation on the

propriety of adorning the exterior as well as the interior of science.

[48]"Leur badinage," says Montesquieu, "naturellement fait pour las

toilettes, semble etre provenu a former le caractere general de la

nation. On badine au conseil, on badine a la tête d'une armee, on badine

avec un ambassadeur."

The vanity of the whole nation, it is well known, is without all bounds;

and although this is most apparent, perhaps, and less unequivocally

shewn in every point connected with military affairs, it is yet confined

to no one subject in particular, but embraces all--in arts, science,

manufactures; in every thing, indeed, upon which the spirit and genius

of a nation can be exercised, it is not too much to say, that they

believe themselves superior to every other nation or country. Nay, what

is very extraordinary, so much have they been accustomed to hear

themselves talk in this exaggerated style; so natural to them have now

become those expressions of arrogant superiority, that vanity has, in

its adoption into the French character, and in the effects which it

there produces, almost changed its nature.

In other countries--in our own, for instance, a very vain man is an

object of ridicule, and generally of distrust. In France he is neither;

on the contrary, there appears throughout the kingdom a kind of general

agreement, a species of silent understood compact amongst them, that

every thing asserted by one Frenchman to another, provided it is done

with sufficient confidence and coolness, however individually vain, or

absolutely incredible, ought to be fully and implicitly believed. It is

this excessive idea which the French instil into each other of their own

superiority, joined to the extreme ignorance of the great body of the

people, which composes that prominent feature in their national

character--_their credulity_--and which has long rendered them the

easiest of all nations to be imposed upon by political artifice, and the

submissive dupes of those travelling quacks and ingenious charlatans,

who in this country are more than commonly successful in ruining the

health and impoverishing the pockets of their devoted patients. An

instance of this occurs to me, which happened to myself when residing in

the south of France.

At one of the great fairs where I was present, there appeared upon an

elevated stage, an elderly and serious-looking gentleman, dressed in a

complete suit of solemn black, with a little child kneeling at his feet.

"Messieurs," said he to the multitude, and bowing with the most perfect

confidence and self-possession--[49]"Messieurs, c'est impossible de

tromper des gens instruits comme vous. Je vais absolument couper la tête

a cet-enfant: _Mais_ avant de commencer, il faut que je vous fasse voir

que je ne suis pas un charlatan. Eh bien, en attendant et pour un espece

d'exorde: Qui est entre vous qui à le mal au dent?" "Moi," exclaimed

instantly a sturdy looking peasant, opening his jaws, and disclosing a

row of grinders which might have defied a shark. "Monsieur, (said the

doctor, inspecting his gums), it is but too true. The disorders

attending these small but inestimable members, the teeth, are invariably

to be traced to a species of worm, and this the most obstinate, as well

as the most fatal species in the vermicular tribe, which contrives to

conceal itself at the root of the affected member. Gentlemen, we have

all our respective antipathies; and it is by means of these that the

most fatal and unaccountable effects are produced upon us. Worms,

gentlemen, have also their prevailing antipathies. To subdue the animal,

we have only to become acquainted with its disposition. The worm, Sir,

at the bottom of your tooth, is of that faculty or tribe which _abhors

copper_. It is the vermis halcomisicus, _or copper-hating worm_. Upon

placing this penknife in the solution contained in this bottle,"

(continued he, holding up a small phial, which contained a

green-coloured liquid), "it is, you see, immediately changed into

copper." The patient then, at the doctor's request, approached. A female

assistant stood between him and the crowd, and in a few minutes the

tooth was delivered of a worm, which, from its size, might certainly

have given the toothache to the Dragon of Wantley,

"Who swallow'd the Mayor, asleep in his chair,

And pick'd his teeth with the mace."

The peasant declared he felt no more pain, and the crowd eagerly pressed

forward, (with the exception, we may believe, of the coppersmiths

amongst the audience), and purchased the bottles containing this

invaluable prescription. Before I had left the party, I discovered that

the doctor, previously to the performing another trick, had borrowed

from the crowd a gold piece of twenty francs, two pieces of five francs,

a silver watch, and several smaller articles, nor did it appear they had

the slightest suspicion that the learned doctor might have changed these

articles as well as the penknife; and that although there were

copper-hating worms, there might exist other kinds of human vermin,

which might not reckon silver among their antipathies. This

characteristic vanity, and the excessive credulity of the people, were

strikingly exhibited in another ludicrous adventure of the same kind,

which happened to us when I was resident at Aix.

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. · 第 11 / 12 章

If Napoleon did not possess feeling, or even common humanity, he was at