The interior of the dome of the Invalids is handsomely painted; but the exterior exhibits what I must consider as a very misplaced species of decoration for a place of this nature, beingcompletely gilt, pursuant to an order of Buonaparte, dated, as I have been informed by good authority, fromMoscow. This decoration has, as can well be supposed, cost vast sums, but it probably obtained for the ex-Emperor thateclat, by which he constantly sought to please the vanity of the Parisians. Many of his decrees for the embellishment of their city, being dated from Vienna, Berlin, and Madrid, he sought to astonish the multitude, by attempting to accomplish in a few years, what it wouldin generalrequire anageto effect. Perhaps, calculating on the instability of his power, he hastened the construction of whatever might render it famous. A French writer observes, "Il "vouloit courir à cheval à la postérité."
Near the Invalids there is aMilitary Schoolfor 500 children; and near theChamp de Marsare two large barracks. Indeed, Paris abounds with them, as the military power has long been predominant in France. TheChamp de Marsis only celebrated in the history of the Revolution; its present appearance is by no means interesting. In this vicinity is thePlace de Grenelle, famous for being the spot where military executions used to take place. One of the last victims who perished here, was the unfortunateGeneral Mallet, who whilst the oppressor of his country was still contemplating the devastation which he had occasioned in Russia, sought to deliver France from so galling a yoke; and he is said to have been possessed of many of the qualities necessary for so honourable and arduous an undertaking; but the reign of Buonaparte was still to continue for eighteen months longer; and he who had the resolution to attempt, had not the satisfaction of seeing, its subversion. In his way to the place of execution, being assailed by a hired mob with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur,' "yes, yes!" said the General, "cry "long live the Emperor if you please, but you will only be happy when he is no more." He would not suffer his eyes to be covered; and displayed in his last moments a fortitude, that will cause his memory to be long revered by the enemies of despotic power.
TheMuseum of French Monumentsis one of the numerous institutions produced by the Revolution. This place contains a collection of thosetombswhich escaped the fury of aRevolutionthat at once proscribed bothroyaltyandreligion. They were deposited here as models of art, which did honour to the republic, by proving the genius of its statuaries and sculptors, (the works being classed according to the centuries in which they were made;) and as the busts of the most celebrated and declared enemies of Christianity, are every-where interspersed, the design seems obviously to have been to inculcate the principles which they inculcated; if, indeed, they acted upon any principle, each fearing to acknowledge the superiority of the other. Todoubtwas their criterion of wisdom (but although Hume said, that even when he doubted, he was in doubt whether he doubted or not, he does not appear to have once doubted that he was wrong in his attacks on religion,) and they only united in ridiculing thatbelief in a Supreme Being, which has been received, as it were instinctively, by all nations, however savage, and which has been the consolation of the best and wisest of mankind.
Any believer in religion, or any one who has not by perverted reasoning, brought his mindreallyto doubt its divine truths, (for men are but too apt to admit even the arguments of absurdity, when they tend to absolve them from duties, which they would avoid,) cannot but experience a sentiment of regret at this violation of the ancient consecrated burial places, (where the contemplation of these emblems of mortality was calculated to inspire a beneficial awe;) and of sorrow, that as religion is by law restored in France, these monuments, many of which have been taken from the royal burying place of St. Denis, should not be replaced in the churches from which they were taken in those calamitous times.
I here saw the tomb of Cardinal Richelieu, which was originally in the college of the Sorbonne. It is the work of the celebratedGerardin, and is a fine piece of sculpture. Many of the other monuments are very elegant; but it would be tedious to enter into further details.
In walking through the Rue Colbert, a French gentleman of my acquaintance pointed out to me the house in whichLouvoishad resided, and declared his opinion, that that minister had proved one of the greatest causes of the ruin of France; he followed up his assertion by a declamation of such length, that I shall not attempt to collect his arguments, but leave my readers to come to their own conclusions on the subject.
I had intended visiting those vastcatacombswhich extend under a great part of Paris, and which now serve as burial places, but was induced to desist from the undertaking by the advice of a person who had made the experiment, and had suffered much more from the state of the air in those caverns, than he had been gratified by the curiosity of the scene. I was in the evening induced to visit a scene of a very different nature, and accompanied a party to theGardens of Tivoli, in the RueLazare. This was, before the Revolution, the property of M. Boutin, formerly treasurer of the marine, who had spared no expense in it's decoration. The extent is about fourteen acres, and it much resembles Vauxhall.
The vast proportion which the military officers bear in all companies, and in all the public places here, cannot fail to be remarked by a stranger, and proves the success of the ex-Emperor, in his endeavours to render the French merely a military people. Under theold regime, no military uniforms were permitted to be worn in public places; but at present such a regulation would be quite impracticable. At present the military take a great lead in society, which has, perhaps, suffered more than is generally thought by the civil commotions of the state.
Wishing to be able to form some idea of the military events which led to the capture of Paris, I went by the gate of St. Martin to the other places which were connected with those memorable operations. It was on the 30th of March, 1814, that the allied armies,consisting of nearly 200,000 men, attacked the heights of Bellevue, St. Chaumont, and Montmartre; the cannonade continued from six in the morning until half past three o'clock in the afternoon, and after a bloody combat in the plains of Villette, where they were opposed by 30,000 French troops, a suspension of arms was signed a little after five o'clock. The next day about noon, the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia entered Paris by the barrier of Villette, at the head of 50,000 men. A French writer remarks, that Montmartre is rendered famous by the gallant-stand made there by asmall bodyof French troops against thewholeof the allied army. The French cannot bring themselves to allow that their nation has the worst in any contest. They are now, however, sensible that they have been defeated, which no doubt conduces greatly to their present ill humour. Vanity is their domineering passion, and this Buonaparte always contrived to flatter so successfully, by concealing unwelcome truths, and exaggerating success, that he isstill regrettedby a large number of persons, who hate the present government for the openness of their conduct, as 'after being so long accustomed to thefabulous historieswith which they were amused by their late ruler, they have a contempt for that candour which informs them of theiractualsituation, and which would excite the approbation of a nation possessed of a less degree of vanity. A great love of novelty is also very conspicuous in the French character. I think it was Frederic the Great, who observed in writing to d'Alembert, 'that to please the French, they should have every two years a new king.'
From the heights of Montmartre, a vast and magnificent panorama is presented to the view. Nearly the whole of Paris is seen from thence, and a great extent of country terminated by distant mountains. Those who wish to have a good general idea of Paris, should not fail to ascend this eminence. In point of size, Paris does not appear to me to be more than half the extent of London, when seen from Hampstead or Greenwich. It was from this situation that the Emperor Alexander first surveyed Paris, and he probably was struck with the shewy appearance of thegildeddome of the Invalids, but perhaps was uninformed that it was from theKremlin, and whilst surrounded by the flames of Moscow, that Buonaparte, gave orders for the commencement of this new andextravagant decorationto increase the splendour of Paris. But the magnanimous perseverance of Alexander in the contest, was at last rewarded, and he saw from Montmartre that proud city, which had so often exulted at hearing of the capture of the other capitals of Europe, lying in his power. Without the capture of Paris in its turn, the triumph of Europe for the injuries which were inflicted in most parts of it, by the French, so long the willing instruments of Buonaparte's tyranny, had been incomplete.
Alexander's entry into Paris was haired as a liberation from that despotism, which its inhabitants, had not themselves the energy to shake off, and which they had acquiesced in or abetted for so many successive years.
That Alexander should have triumphed over Buonaparte, was fortunate for thelibertyofFrance, but it was also indispensable to thepeace of Europe.
The establishment of M. Delacroix, Rue Croix-des Petits Augustins, to remedy the defect of nature by a gymnastic process, is unique in France. I shall give the prospectus a place here; and feeling my inability todo it justice, shall not attempt to translate it.
"Dans la Rue des "Vieux Augustin» est l'établissement deM.
DelacroixMécanicien Bandagiste Gymnastique pour redresser les
défauts de la nature, particulièrement chez les femmes. On y
remarqueLe Mâtqui est une Colonne en forme de Mât, autour
duquel se trouvent des echellons servant à monter pour developer
les hanches et la poitrine;les Colonnesou piliers, exercice
servant à mettre le corps droit. LeBalanciersert à redresser la
Colonne vertébrale ou épine du dos. LesBarillespour redresser
la tète les épaules et les hanches. LeBalançoirest pour
maintenir la tète et les reins droits quand on est assise. Le puits
laballeet lamanivellepour donner de la force à une épaule
faible.L'Echellepour redresser les épaules. LeChevalpour
apprendre à y monter, et tenir le corps dans un état naturel.
LeJubepour redresser la tête et donner des grâces; lèsPlombs
pour apprendre à marcher avec grâce. LeFauteuilpour lever un
coté de la poitrine qui seroit plus bas que l'autre; le soufflet
pour donner un exercise régulier à toutes les parties du corps.
Ce mécanicien habile fait des mains dont les doigts ont les
mouvements naturels; et son éstablissement est l'unique en France."
To judge, from this description, it should seem as if those to whom nature has not been propitious, or those who have been deprived by accident of a limb, are culpably negligent if they do not apply at aninstitution which professes to remedy some of the most desperate calamities incident to human nature. With what probability of success, however, such an application would be attended, it is not possible for me to determine. I copy the prospectus of the Professor without being able to judge myself of his proficiency.
I accepted one morning a proposal to accompany a gentleman to the Tuilleries to see the King go to mass (which he had been prevented by the gout from doing, at least in public for some time); we found a great number of spectators had assembled on the occasion in the hall through which his Majesty was to pass, and which was lined with hiscorps de garde. We had a considerable time to wait before he made his appearance, and had ample leisure to survey the portraits of the marshals of France, with which the apartment is decorated, as well as with paintings representing many of Buonaparte's victories. His Majesty appeared to be in excellent health, and received with much affability several papers which were handed to him, and which he gave to a gentleman in waiting. He was greeted repeatedly by cries ofVive le Roi! and there is no doubt that by far the most respectable portion of the French sincerely wish him prosperity. Ï trust they may prove sufficiently strong to keep under those, who I fear are at least as numerous a class, and who have not learned, by the experience of so many years of confusion, to value the blessings of tranquillity when theyhave at last obtained it, attended with the advantages of a mild government.
I believe it is agreed by all that the King has a good heart. His regard for England, which has done so much for his family, is highly to his honour; and I hear he testifies it upon all occasions. Lately, at a consultation of his physicians, one of them having said he feared a long residence in a damp climate, had contributed to increase the attacks of the gout, the King interrupted him by saying, "Ah! Monsieur P——, ne dites pas du mal d'Angleterre." The conduct of his Majesty, since his restoration to the crown of his ancestors, proves him not to be deficient in either ability or resolution; and there perhaps never was a period which called for a greater exertion of both than the present. The other day Paris was thrown into considerable alarm by the arrival of intelligence from Nevers, that the garrison there had declared for Buonaparte. In consequence every precaution was resorted to on the part of government, and the guards in Paris were doubled; but happily nothing occurred to disturb the public tranquillity. The number of discontented spirits which the Revolution has left afloat, and which it would not require any very considerable share of artifice to raise against any government, will require for a long time the exertion of the utmost vigilance on the part of the present administration. Louis might have been addressed with propriety, on his arrival in France, in the admonitory words of Galba to Piso:
"Imperaturus es hominibus, qui nec totam servitutem pati possunt
nec totam libertatem."
On my departure from the Tuilleries my friend conducted me to a famous glass manufactory, where I saw several mirrors of very large dimensions, and also astaircase of glass, which had a splendid effect, and was the first thing of the kind I had ever seen. The balustrades were of glass, supported by steel, and had a particularly handsome appearance. The number of theatres in Paris have of late years much increased, and amount at present to eight or ten. The Opera Italien is justly celebrated as the best in Europe; but I received more entertainment at the Theatre François, in witnessing the representation of one of the admirable comedies of Molière. The Theatre de l'Odéon is curious from its construction, but the minor theatres on the Boulevards, de Gaieté, and des Variétiés, are in general the most frequented; and, except on extraordinary occasions, the Theatre François is by no means fully attended. A stranger in Paris is surprised at the number ofbureaux d'ecrivains, or offices for writing, which abound in all parts of the town, where all materials for writing are provided for a few sous, and where persons attend to write letters, in any language, to the dictation of such as are not skilled in the graphic art.
CHAP. V.
I resolved not to take my departure from Paris without visiting some of the numerous royal palaces situated in its vicinity. St. Cloud first claimed my attention, both from its proximity to Paris, and from its having been for a considerable time the favourite residence of the ex-ruler of France. Its situation is certainly one of the most striking near the capital, and the views from it are both diversified and extensive. The improvements made here by Buonaparte render it a most agreeable residence, and display an extremely good taste. This palace is at present occupied by the Prince of Condé. The approach to it from Paris is very striking, through avenues of elms, with lamps at regular distances.
I also visited Marli, which is chiefly remarkable for the machine which raises water from the Seine to the height of five hundred feet. St. Cyr was the retreat of Madame de Maintenon, and Malmaison was the residence of Buonaparte, when first consul; but it is far inferior to St. Cloud. The palace of St. Germain is in a situation inferior to none I had seen. My expectations had however been particularly raised by the accounts I had heard of Versailles, which has at all times been the object of the admiration of the French; and it is certainly better suited to their ideas of grandeur than to ours.
This palace is about four leagues distant from Paris. The approach to it has nothing of that magnificence that I had been led to expect, and the road is in bad repair. On my arrival, I found it was impossible to gain admittance into the palace, which was undergoing a thorough repair, rendered indispensable by neglect during the last twenty years. The number of workmen employed is stated to amount to two thousand. It is a vast pile of building, and certainly one of the most famous royal residences in Europe. A Frenchman tells you with exultation of the vast sums which have been expended in its construction, and thinks that asufficient proof of its magnificence. An Englishman, however, will very naturally be out of patience at the praises bestowed on gardens laid out in that taste which has been so long exploded in England, and cannot help exclaiming with the poet—
"Lo! what huge heaps of littleness around!"
In front of the palace is a vast terrace which you mount with considerable difficulty by innumerable flights of stairs. To occasion an unexpected treat to the admirers of art, by excluding every thing natural, the whole of this elevation is abundantly supplied with ponds and water-works. The grand vista in front of the palace is formed into acanal, and no description can give a more just idea of these boasted gardens than the following lines of Pope; theonlydifference being, that the water-works of Versailles are put in motion the first Sunday of every month, and remain stagnant the rest of the year.
"Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,
And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suffering eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain, never to be play'd,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade;
Here Amphitrite sails thro' myrtle bow'rs,
There gladiators fight or die in flow'rs;
Unwater'd see the drooping sea-horse mourn,
And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty urn."
What pleased me most at Versailles was the great number of large orange and lemon trees.
The forest of Versailles is of great extent, and abounds in wood, but there is little of what would be considered in England asgood timber.
Windsor and Versailles have been often compared, although no two places can possibly differ more completely than they do. To have again recourse to the words of the poet, Windsor is a place,
"Where order in variety we see;
And where, tho' all things differ, all agree."
And, in my judgment, it is as far superior to Versailles as its forests of oak are to the elms which surround that boasted palace.
I was permitted to see the royal stables. They are, it is said, sufficiently large to contain 4000 horses, but are at present much out of repair. The city of Versailles is large and well built, but has a melancholy and deserted appearance, having lost nearly half its population since it has ceased to be a royal residence, and the present number of inhabitants does not exceed 30,000. The Grand and Petit Trianons deserve attention from having been the favourite retreats of the late unfortunate Queen of France; but few traces of the taste once displayed in their decoration now remain. They are situated within the limits of the forest of Versailles, which is said to be twenty leagues in circuit. At Sèvres, which is celebrated for the beauty of its porcelain manufactory, I observed workmen employed in finishing a new and handsome bridge of nine arches over the Seine, in place of the old one which is hardly passable. Near the barrier of Passy is a carpet-manufactory, which was established there by Henry the Fourth. This barrier is thought to be the most striking entrance to Paris. In my excursions in the vicinity of Paris, I observed that the harvest was extremely abundant, but the majority of those employed in collecting it were women. I was informed that last year the greatest difficulty was experienced in saving the harvest for want of a sufficient number of hands. I saw, at a distance, the castle of Vincennes, where Buonaparte (who had caused the removal of every vestige of the Bastile) had dungeons constructed many feet under ground, and with walls ten feet thick. This place is distinguished for the atrocious murder of the Duke d'Enghien. I had occasion to observe, both in the streets of Paris and on the roads in its vicinity, that there were but fewprivatecarriages to be seen, and those by no means handsome; but the roads are covered withcabriolets, of which there are 2,800 in Paris, besides about 2,000 fiacres, or hackney-coaches. The fare for an hour is only thirty sous.
As I had by this time pretty well satisfied my curiosity, in visiting the objects in Paris that principally arrest the attention of a traveller who has not leisure to dwell longer than is indispensable in one place, I began to be impatient to exchange the continual bustle of that city—its
"Fumum opes strepitumque,"
for those romantic and enlivening scenes in which Switzerland stands without a rival, and is, as it were, byacclamation, allowed to surpass the other countries of Europe.
I therefore attended at the office for foreign affairs, and obtained the signature of the Prince of Benevento (for about ten francs) in addition to the signature of our own distinguished minister, Lord Castlereagh. I was told it was necessary also to have my passport visited by the police before leaving Paris; and my landlord offered his services to arrange that affair for me. I however recollected Dr. Franklin's maxim, "If you would have your business clone, go; if not, send," and went accordingly to the office myself.
These affairs being arranged, so as to permit my passing without molestation through the interior of France, I quitted Paris without any sensations of regret at leaving a place which, highly as I had been pleased with many of the great objects which it contains, I cannot but consider, when curiosity is once gratified, to be an unpleasant residence. I took the road to Fontainbleau, distant about thirty-seven English miles; a place formerly only remarkable for its castle, situated in a forest of about 30,000 acres, and often visited by the Kings of France, for the amusements of the chace; but which will hold in history a distinguished page, and be visited in future ages as being the scene where it pleased Providence to terminate a tyranny unexampled in the history of the world. It is worthy of remark, that in this very castle, in which the venerable Head of the Romish Church was so long and so unjustly detained a captive, his once formidable oppressor was obliged to abdicate that authority which he had so long usurped and abused; and the11th of April 1814, will be long hailed over Europe as the epoch when liberty, peace and good order were restored to its inhabitants, after the long and stormy reign of oppression, war and anarchy had so long precluded the expected time of which it was impossible entirely to despair—when Europe, so long a prey to dissension, should again be united as one common family. These hopes have at last been realized; the evils of the French Revolution (more productive ofmisfortune than the fabled box of Pandora) have in a manner been surmounted; and we have only further to wish, that the nations who have restored tranquillity to Europe, may continue to act with the moderation for which they have hitherto been distinguished [guess: distinguished].
It was natural, in beholding a place rendered memorable by such great events,—events which are probably destined to fix the fortunes of succeeding centuries, that the mind should dwell with more than common attention on the scene, and give itself up to the reflections it was calculated to produce. My thoughts were principally engaged in considering the very opposite characters of Pius VII. and of Buonaparte.
In the first we see united all that can give dignity to an exalted station, or that is praiseworthy in private life. We see him disposed as much as possible to conciliation, and even persuaded by his cardinals to cross the Alps in the most inclement season notwithstanding his advanced age, to crown theUsurper of France, in the expectation of advancing the interests of religion, by consenting to submit to a power which then appeared but too firmly established. The hopes of the pope were not realized; Buonaparte soon forgetting past services, made demands which he well knew could not be complied with, and amongst them that hisholiness should declare war against England, and that too without the slightest motive for such a proceeding on his part, as he stated in his manifesto against the outrages of Buonaparte, a paper which must affect all who peruse it, and excite their regret that the pope was not in a situation effectually to preserve that independence which did such honour to his heart.
The new-made emperor was not, however, to be reasoned with but byforce; and in about four years after the pope had placed the diadem on his head, he caused him to be removed from his capital as a prisoner, and united the Ecclesiastical States to the dominions of France. The spirit of the pope was still unsubdued, and he refused, for himself and his cardinals, all offers of subsistence from the usurper of their possessions. When urged to come to some agreement with Buonaparte, he answered that his regret at having accepted the lateConcordat, would be a sufficient security against his being again deceived. And when the cardinals represented the evils which mightresult from his refusal, he answered, "Let me die worthy of the misfortunes I have suffered." On the 23d of January, 1814, the pope was removed from Fontainbleau, as were each of the seventeen cardinals, in custody of agend'arme, and their destination was kept secret. But on the 5th of April following, the provisional government of France gave orders, that all obstacles to the return of the pope to his states might be removed; and, after five years of confinement and outrage, Pius VII. returned to his capital, to receive the reward of thatfirmnessandmoderation, which, blended so happily in his character, will long render it an object of admiration.
I next considered the character of the tyrant, who so long and so successfully triumphed over prostrate Europe, England alone preserving unimpaired that liberty, which she was destined to be the means of diffusing to rival nations. It would be absurd to deny Buonaparte the praise due to the matchless activity, and consummate skill, with whichhe conducted the enterprizes suggested by his boundless ambition; and which made him the most formidable enemy with whom England ever had to contend; but his cruelty, his suspicion, and his pride, (which made him equally disregard those laws of honour, and those precepts of morality, respected by the general feelings of mankind), as they excited the indignation of thinking men, prevented any pity at his fall. Such a man was destined only to excite astonishment, not admiration; and that astonishment could not fail of being greatly diminished, by his want of extraordinary resources, when placed in a situation, upon the possibility of which he had disdained to calculate.
His continued aggressions raised Europe against him from without, and he was overthrown, because he had completely disgusted the fickle people, whom he had made the instruments of his ambition.
It would surely require the pen ofa Tacitusto delineate with accuracy the character of such a man, who, to use the words of the lamented Moreau, "had covered the French name with such shame and disgrace, that it would be almost a disgrace to bear it; and who had brought upon that unhappy country the curses and hatred of the universe."
His ambitious wars are supposed to have occasioned the destruction of nearlyfour millions of men, whom he considered merely as instruments to accomplish his extravagant views; and he is reported to have said repeatedly, that "it signified little whether or not he reigned over the French, provided he reigned over France."
He delighted in carnage, and speaks in one of his bulletins of "800 pieces of cannon dispersing death on all sides," as presenting "a most admirable spectacle."
On Buonaparte's arrival from Egypt, he found things as favourable for his projected usurpation as his most sanguine hopes could have imagined. In the eighteen months which had preceded his arrival, there had arisen no fewer than four constitutions, and the French might well exclaim, "They have made us so many constitutions, that we have now none remaining!" Wearied out with the succession of sanguinary factions, each endeavouring to establish itself by proscriptions, banishments, and confiscations, France submitted without opposition to the government of a ruler, who seemed sufficiently strong to keep all minor tyrants in subjection; and, despairing of freedom, sought only an interval of repose. This hope was, however, not destined to be realized, for Buonaparte soon pursued all those who presumed to oppose his schemes in the slightest degree with astonishing eagerness, and those who submitted with the most alacrity, were treated only with contempt.
He was hardly seated on his throne, before he spoke of making France a camp, and all the French soldiers. A long series of success made him despise those precautions so necessary to insure it, and rendered hiscatastrophe the more striking.
The character given by Seneca of the Corsicans, has been quoted as applicable to the most famous character that island has ever produced: he says, "the leading characteristics of these islanders are revenge, theft, lying, and impiety." Over the downfall of such a man, the civilized world must rejoice; but the contemplation of his character affords a salutary lesson to ambition, which, carried to excess, ruins that greatness it would so madly increase.
The last years of his reign were distinguished by the number of plots which were pretended to be discovered, and proved the truth of a remark of Mary de Medicis, "That a false report believed during three days, tended to secure the crown on the head of an usurper."
But neither his guards, nor his police, could insure him a moment of repose.
"Volvilur Ixion, et se sequiturque fugitque."
Modern history has fully demonstrated a truth, which might have been collected from more ancient records, and of which England affords an illustrious example, that the attachment of a free and enlightened people is the only basis on which thrones can rest with security.
Having now sufficiently satisfied my curiosity at Fontainbleau, I determined on continuing my journey (which I fear my reader may regret I did not do sooner), and I accordingly arrived at noon at Montereau, which is an inconsiderable town, but beautifully situated in a fertile plain, at the junction of the rivers Seine and Yonne. The bridges over those rivers had been partly broken down, to impede the progress of the allied troops in the late memorable campaign. They have been repaired with timber in a temporary manner, but cannot be considered as at all sufficiently secure for the passage of heavy carriages. Many of the houses in this town still exhibit abundant marks of bullets, but the country around appears in such a luxuriant state of cultivation, that had I not myself seen the spot where a battle had been fought in thelast spring, I could hardly hare persuaded myself it had so lately been the theatre of war.
I next reached Sens, a large and ancient city, but thinly inhabited, and with little marks of activity, although situated in a country abounding with all the conveniences of life, and possessing a situation on the rivers Vanne and Yonne, which seems to shame its inhabitants for their neglect of the commercial advantages they afford.
The Cathedral is a venerable structure, and contains the tomb of the Dauphin, father of the present King, who died in 1765.—About sixteen English miles distant is Joigny, beautifully situated on the Yonne, and surrounded on all skies by vineyards; we now were approaching one of the parts of France most famous for its wines.
The road, which is in excellent repair, follows the windings of the river to Auxerre, which, although much less than Sens, has a more lively appearance, and the inhabitants seem to make more use of the facilities which the river affords of communicating with Paris and the rest of the country. The churches here are handsome, the tower of one of them is said to have been built by theEnglish.
The Vineyards in this neighbourhood are numerous, and the wine is much esteemed.
I waited here for the arrival of the Paris Diligence, in which I proposed to proceed to Dijon, wishing not to leave France without having made trial of one of their public carriages.
The appearance of that which I saw at Calais was much against it; the one I met with here proved a very tedious conveyance, not going in general above three or four English miles an hour; which, however is as much as could be expected from a carriage which is scarcely less laden than many of our waggons. It was drawn by five horses, all managed byonepostilion, mounted on one of the wheel horses, and furnished with a vast andunwieldypair ofboots, cased with iron, and a long whip, which he is perpetually employed in cracking. Another important personage is Monsieur leConducteur, who has the care of the luggage, &c. The French in general adhere to old customs, as well as the postilions to their antiquated boots; their hour of dinner in general being from eleven to twelve o'clock, and seldom so late as one. This in England would be considered only as aDéjeûner à la Fourchette. The hour of supper is from seven to nine, according as the length of the stages may determine.
If thehourof a French dinner is singular to an Englishman, the order in which it is served up is not less so. The soup (that great essential to a Frenchman) is always followed by bouilli, which having contributed to make the soup, is itself very tasteless.—Fricassées and poultry succeed; then follow fish and vegetables, and last of all comes the rôti, which, as I before had occasion to observe, is so much done as not to be very palatable. The pastry and desert conclude their dinners, which certainly deserve the praise of being both cheap and abundant. The fruit is astonishingly cheap; I. have seen excellent peaches sell for a sous apiece. A traveller is not, however, in general disposed tocriticise these singularities, either in the hour or order of the repast with too much severity, as the remark attributed to Alexander the Great, has probably been made by many of less celebrity, "that night travelling serves to give a better appetite than all the skill of confectioners."
The general price of the Table d'Hôte in France, including thevin ordinaire, is about three francs, which are at the present rate of exchange equal to about a shilling each.—Those who call for better wine pay of course extra.
The vin ordinaire, or common wine of Burgundy, is a pleasant beverage, little stronger than cider, but in many parts of France it is by no means palatable. The cider and beer in France are, with few exceptions, extremely indifferent, and consequently little used.
CHAP. VI.
My first day's journey in the Diligence was short and uninteresting1. We arrived to sleep at Avalon, a small town partaking, in common with most others in France, of a degree of gloom occasioned by the want of those shops which enliven most of our country towns. Here a few articles are placed in a window, to indicate that there is a larger supply to be had within. There are few towns in France which have not apublic placeor walk, which is generally planted with trees, and kept in good order. Whilst supper was preparing, we took a few turns on the promenade of Avalon, and found a considerable number of persons assembled there; but were much shocked at the number and miserable appearance of the beggars, who thronged around us. They are much too numerous in all parts of France, and particularly here.
At an early hour next morning, we were summoned to resume our places in the Diligence; these places are in general numbered, and each person takes his seat in the order in which he has paid his fare, a regulation which prevents any delay, and precludes disputes or ceremony.
We continued our journey through the small towns of Rouvray and Viteaux; the country is diversified with hills, which are not of sufficient magnitude to present any great obstacle to the progress of the traveller.
There are vast numbers of vineyards, but there are few trees. In this, as in all other wine countries, villages and country houses are more numerous than in the districts producing only corn, either because the lands which produce vines are more valuable, and consequently are divided amongst a greater number of owners, or that the culture of the vine requires more people than other species of tillage.
In one district, where corn was the chief crop, I enquired respectingthe usual mode of farming, and found that the land, which was this year under corn, was intended to be sown next year with maize (of which there is a vast quantity) and the year following to lie fallow, after which it will be considered as again fit to produce corn.
I found also, that the direct land-tax through France was not less than 20 per cent, exclusive of the other taxes which fall incidentally on landed property. There are also in many provincescustomswhich regulate the descent of land (often in a manner very different from the disposition which the owner would wish) amongst the relations of the last owner. These customs and the heavy taxes on land may account for the seemingly small price which it in general sells for throughout France.
The approach to Dijon is striking, and the Diligence arrived there sufficiently early to afford us time to survey the city, which is one of the best built and most considerable in France. It was formerly the capital of the province, and the residence of the ancient sovereigns of Burgundy, whose tombs are still to be seen at the Chartreuse, near the city. It is now the chief place in the department of the Côte d'or, and contains a population of about 22,000 inhabitants. It is situated between the small rivers Ouche and Suzon, in a valley, which is one of the most highly cultivated districts in France, and which is worthy of its name ofCôte d'or. The churches here are handsome structures, as is also the palace of the Prince of Condé, where the Parliament used to assemble. The square before it is spacious and well-built, and the corn market is worthy of remark. The University of Dijon was formerly one of the most considerable in Prance, but my stay was not sufficient, to enable me to enquire withaccuracy into its present state. Our company next day was augmented by two French officers, who were going to Besançon, and who intended proceeding in this carriage as far as Dole, where smaller conveyances were to be had for those going to Geneva, &c. as the Great Voiture went on to Lyons. These officers did not long continue silent, and politics seemed the subject which occupied the first place in their thoughts. They said that Belgium and the Rhine wereindispensableto France, and were particularly violent against Austria, for the part she had taken in the late contest. 'One of them did not affect to conceal his attachment to the ex-emperor; but the other, although he agreed with his companion in wishing, for a renewal of the war, did not seem at all pleased with Buouaparte for having said the French nationwanted character. They had both been at Moscow, and acknowledged that the Emperor had committed a capital error in not retreating in time from what he himself acknowledged to be such a frightful climate.
If a public carriage has not all the comfort and expedition of a private one, it certainly has this advantage, that one often meets companions from whom may be derived amusement or information; and I think those who travel with a view to either of those objects, would do well occasionally to go in one of those conveyances. In a foreign country, the attention of the traveller is continually attracted by a variety of objects of a novel nature, which can be best explained to him by the inhabitants of the country: besides, it is impossible to have any correct idea of the manners and customs of foreigners, without constantly associating with them, which, in general, English travellers do not much desire. Whilst abroad, I would wish to accommodate myself as much as possible, to the habits of the country in which I were to reside, but if I found them irksome, I would certainly hasten my departure.
We reached Dole about the French hour of dinner: here our company separated, and, accompanied by a friend, I continued my journey to Geneva. The road which we took is only practicable during four or five months in the year, on account of the snow which is drifted from the mountains of Jura. Near Auxonne we passed a plain, where a battle had been fought between the French and the Allied forces. Many houses had been destroyed, but the agriculture of the country did not seem to have suffered by the contest. We passed through the village of Genlis, and within sight of the Chateau, the property of the lady of that name, well known by her numerous writings and compilations.
We arrived late at Poligny, a small town, surrounded by lofty mountains. On leaving the place, one hill occupies three hours in ascending; but the road is as good as the uneven surface of the country will permit. The people here begin to have quite a different appearance from the French: wooden shoes are generally worn; and the projecting roofs of the houses shew that the climate is more rainy and severe than in the countries we had passed. In this vicinity are some of the finest forests I had yet seen in France, and the views from the road are occasionally interesting. About two leagues from Poligny isArbois, famous for its white wine. We had a bottle by way of experiment, and thought itnot undeserving of the reputation it had acquired. A Frenchman observed, "Le vin nest pas mauvais," which phrase may be taken for a commendation, as they seldom carry their praise so far as to say a thing is positively good. The country between Poligny and Moray exhibits a continued succession of fir-trees, unmixed with any thing to give variety to the scene. The woods, however, seemed to afford shelter to but few birds; and in most parts of the continent, even the singing-birds are not spared, but included in the general proscription to gratify the palate of the epicure.
We arrived to anEnglish breakfastat Moray; they told us its honey was in great repute throughout France, and we thought it deserved more than the ordinary commendation of a Frenchman. Every thing here was neat and clean, and both the town and appearance of its inhabitants broughtNorth Walesstrongly to my recollection. This being a frontier place, the French custom-house officers putsealson our portmanteaus, for which favour we paid two francs for each seal; these were cut off with great formality on our arrival at Geneva. After having travelled for many hours amongst a succession of gloomy mountains, which afford nothing that can either interest or enliven, I never recollect feeling a greater sensation of delight and astonishment, than when, from the summit of one of the mountains of Jura, I first beheld the lake and city of Geneva, backed by the mountains of Savoy, and by the Alps, which, even at this vast distance, made all the other mountains we had passed appear but trivial.
It is by contrast that all pleasures are heightened, and even the tour which I afterwards made amongst the Alps, did not lessen the force of that impression which the sudden appearance of this magnificent spectacle had left upon my mind. The road down the mountain is an astonishing work, and is part of the grand line of road made by Buonaparte, to facilitate the passage of troops into Italy over the Grand Simplon. A fountain near the road has an inscription to Napoleon the Great; in one part the road winds through an excavation in the rock. One cannot but here exclaim with the poet,