environs of this place, and has repeatedly called forth the admiration and delight of all travellers. Near Coblentz is the monument erected to the French General Marceau, who fell gloriously fighting for the cause of liberty, respected by friend and foe.
July 10th.
We had a large society this day at the table d’hote. The conversation turned on the restoration of the Bourbons, which nobody at table seemed to desire. Several anecdotes were related of the conduct of the Bourbon princes and of the emigration, who held their court at Coblentz when they first emigrated; these anecdotes did not redound much to their honor or credit, and I remark that they are held in great disgust and abhorrence by the inhabitants of these towns, on account of their treacherous and unprincipled conduct. It was from here that “La Cour de Coblentz,” as it was called, intrigued by turns with the Jacobins and the Brissotins and, by betraying the latter to the former, were in part the cause of the sanguinary measures adopted by Robespierre.[27] The object of this atrocious policy was that the French people would, by witnessing so many executions, become disgusted at the sanguinary tyranny of Robespierre and recall the Bourbons unconditionally; which, fortunately for France and thanks to the heroism and bravery of the republican armies, did not take place; for had the restoration taken place at that time, a dreadful reaction would have been encouraged and the cruelties of the reign of Terror surpassed. With the same view, emissaries were dispatched from the Court of Coblentz to the South of France in order, under the disguise of patriots, to preach up the most exaggerated corollaries to the theories of liberty and equality.
Among other things at Ehrenbreitstein is a superb pleasure barge belonging to the Dukes of Nassau for water excursions up and down the Rhine. A _coche d’eau_ starts from here daily to Mayence and another to Cologne. The price is ten franks the person. The superb _chaussee on_ the left bank of the Rhine, which extends all the way from Cologne to Mayence, was constructed by the direction of Napoleon. In the evening I went to the theatre at Coblentz, where Mozart’s opera of Don Giovanni was represented. I recollected my old acquaintance “La ci darem la mano,” which I had often heard in England.
MAYENCE, 12th July.
I embarked in the afternoon of the 11th in the _coche d’eau_ bound to Mayence. Except an old “Schiffer,” I was the only passenger on board, as few chuse to go up stream on account of the delay. I, however, being master of my own time, and wishing to view the lovely scenery on the banks of the river, preferred this conveyance, and I was highly gratified. After Boppart, the bed of the river narrows much. High rocks on each bank hem in the stream and render it more rapid. Nothing can be more sublime and magnificent than the scenery; at every turn of the river you would suppose its course blocked up by rocks, perceiving no visible outlet. Remains of Gothic castles are to be seen on their summits at a short distance from each other, and where the banks are not abrupt and _escarpes_ there are _coteaux_ covered with vines down to the water’s edge. The tolling of the bells at the different villages on the banks gives a most aweful solemn religious sound, and the reverberation is prolonged by the high rocks, which seem to shut you out from the rest of the world. There are the walls nearly entire of two castles of the Middle Ages, the one called “Die Katze” (the cat); the other “Die Maus” (the Mouse); each has its tradition, for which and for many other interesting particulars I refer you to Klebe’s and Schreiber’s description of the banks of the Rhine.
We arrived early in the evening at St Goar, where we stopped and slept. St Goar is a fine old Gothic town, romantically situated, and is famous from having two whirlpools in its neighbourhood. It is completely commanded and protected by Rheinfels, an ancient hill fortress, but the fortification of which no longer exist. It requires half an hour’s walk to ascend to the summit of Rheinfels, but the traveller is well repaid for the fatigue of the ascent by the fine view enjoyed from the top. I remained at Rheinfels nearly an hour. What a solemn stillness seems to pervade this part of the river, only interrupted by the occasional splash of the oar, and the tolling of the steeple bell! Bingen on the right bank is the next place of interest, and on an island in the centre of the river facing Bingen stand the ruins of a celebrated tower call’d the “Mauesethurm” (mouse tower), so named from the circumstance of Bishop Hatto having been devoured therein by rats according to the tradition. This was represented as a punishment from Heaven on the said bishop for his tyranny and oppression towards the poor; but the story was invented by the monks in order to vilify his memory, for it appears he was obnoxious to them on account of his attempts to enforce a rigid discipline among them and to check their licentiousness.
Bieberich, a superb palace belonging to the Dukes of Nassau on the right bank, next presents itself to view on your left ascending; to your right, at a short distance from Bieberich, you catch the first view of Mayence on the left bank, with its towers and steeples rising from the glade. We reached Mayence at 4 o’clock p.m., and I went to put up at the three Crowns (_Drei-Kronen_). The first news I learned on arriving at Mayence was that Napoleon had surrendered himself to the Captain of an English frigate at Oleron; but though particulars are not given, Louis XVIII is said to be restored, which I am very sorry to hear. The Allies then have been guilty of the most scandalous infraction of their most solemn promise, since they declared that they made war on Napoleon alone and that they never meant to dictate to the French people the form of government they were to adopt. Napoleon having surrendered and Louis being restored, the war may be considered as ended for the present, unless the Allies should attempt to wrest any provinces from France, and in this case there is no saying what may happen. This has finally ended the career of Napoleon.
There is in Mayence a remarkably fine broad spacious street called “die grosse Bleiche” and in general the buildings are striking and solid, but too much crowded together as is the case in all ancient fortified cities. The Cathedral is well worth seeing and contains many things of value and costly relics. When one views the things of value in the churches here, at Aix-la-Chapelle and at Cologne, what a contradiction does it give to the calumnies spread against the French republicans that they plundered the churches of the towns they occupied! There is an agreeable promenade lined with trees on the banks of the river called _L’Allee du Rhin._ Mayence is strongly fortified and has besides a citadel (a pentagon) of great strength, which is separated from the town by an esplanade. The _Place du Marche_ is striking and in the _Place Verte_ I saw for the first time in my life the Austrian uniform, there being an Austrian garrison as well as troops belonging to the other Germanic states, such as Prussians, Bavarians, Saxons, Hessians, and troops of the Duchy of Berg. This City belongs to the Germanic Confederation and is to be always occupied by a mixed garrison. The Archduke Charles has his head-quarters here at present. I attended an inspection of a battalion of Berg troops on the _Place Verte_; they had a very military appearance and went thro’ their manoeuvres with great precision. From the top of the steeple of the Church of Sanct Stephen you have a fine view of the whole Rheingau. Opposite to Mayence, on the right bank, communicating by an immensely long bridge of boats, is the small town and fort of Castel, which forms a sort of _tete-de-pont_ to Mayence. The works of Castel take in flank and enfilade the embouchure of the river Mayn which flows into the Rhine. One of the redoubts of Castel is called the redoubt of Montebello, thus named after Marshal Lannes, Duke of Montebello.
The German papers continue their invectives against France. In one of them I read a patriotic song recommending the youth of Germany to go into France to revenge themselves, to drink the wine and live at the cost of the inhabitants, and then is about to recommend their making love to the wives and daughters of the French, when a sudden flash of patriotism comes across him, and he says: “No! for that a German warrior makes love to German girls and German women only!” (_Und kuesst nur Deutsche Maedchen._) With regard to the women here, those that I have hitherto met with, and those I saw at Ehrenbreitstein, were exceedingly handsome, so that the German warriors, if love is their object, will do well to remain here, as they may go further and fare worse, for I understand the women of Lorraine and Champagne are not very striking for personal beauty. There were some good paintings in the picture gallery here and this and the fortifications are nearly all that need call forth the attention of a traveller who makes but a fleeting visit.
FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAYN, 14th July.
I arrived here the day before yesterday in the diligence from Mayence, the price of which is two and a half florins the person, and the distance twenty-five English miles; there is likewise a water conveyance by the Mayn for half the money. The road runs thro’ the village of Hockheim, which in England gives the name of _Hock_ to all the wines of Rhenish growth. The country is undulating in gentle declivities and vales and is highly cultivated in vines and corn. I put up here at the _Hotel Zum Schwan_ (The Swan), which is a very large and spacious hotel and has excellent accommodation. There is a very excellent table d’hote at one o’clock at this hotel, for which the price is one and a half florins the person, including a pint of Moselle wine and a _krug_ or jar of Seltzer water. About four or five o’clock in the afternoon it is the fashion to come and drink old Rhine wine _a l’Anglaise_. That sort called _Rudesheimer_ I recommend as delicious. There is also a very pleasant wine called the _Ingelheimer_, which is in fact the “red Hock.” At one of these afternoon meetings a gentleman who had just returned from Paris related to us some anecdotes of what passed at the Conference between the French commissioners who were sent after the abdication of Napoleon, by the provisional government, to treat with the Allies; in which it appeared that the British commissioner, Lord S[tewart],[28] brother to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, made rather a simple figure by his want of historical knowledge or recollection. He began, it seems, in rather a bullying manner, in the presence of the commissioners, to declaim against what he called the perfidy and mutiny of the French army against their lawful Sovereign; when the venerable Lafayette, who was one of the commissioners and who is ever foremost when his country has need of his assistance, remarked to him that the English revolution in 1688, which the English were accustomed always to stile glorious, and which he (Lafayette) stiled glorious also, was effectuated in a similar manner by the British army abandoning King James and ranging themselves under the standard of the Prince of Orange; that if it was a crime on the part of the French army to join Napoleon, their ancient leader who had led them so often to victory, it was a still greater crime on the part of the English army to go over to the Prince of Orange who was unknown to them and a foreigner in the bargain; and that therefore this blame of the French army, coming from the mouth of an Englishman, surprised him, the more so as the Duke of Marlborough, the boast and pride of the English, set the example of defection from his Sovereign, who had been his greatest benefactor. Lord S[tewart], who did not appear to be at all conscious of this part of our history, was staggered, a smile was visible on the countenances of all the foreign diplomatists assembled there, and Lord S[tewart], to hide his confusion, and with an ill-disguised anger, turned to Lafayette and said that the Allies would not treat until Napoleon should be delivered to them. “Je m’etonne, my lord, qu’en faisant une proposition si infame et si deshonorante, vous vous plaisez de vous adresser au prisonnier d’Olmuetz,” was the dignified answer of that virtuous patriot and ever ardent veteran of liberty.[29]
The main street in Frankfort called the _Zeil_ is very broad and spacious, and can boast of a number of splendid houses belonging to individuals, particularly the house of Schweitzer[30]; and on the Quai, on the banks of the Mayn, there is a noble range of buildings. The bridge across the Mayn is very fine and on the other side of the river is the suburb of Sachsenhansen, which is famous for being the head-quarters of the priestesses of the Venus vulgivaga who abound in this city. There are in Frankfort an immense number of Jews, who have a quarter of the city allotted to them. The gardens that environ the town are very tastefully laid out, and serve as the favourite promenade of the _beau monde_ of Frankfort. The Cathedral will always be a place of interest as the temple wherein in later times the German Caesars were crowned and inaugurated. At the _Hotel de Ville_ called the _Roemer_, which is an ugly Gothic building, but interesting from its being in this edifice that the Emperors were chosen, is to be seen the celebrated Golden Bull which is written on parchment in the Latin language with a golden seal attached to it. In the Hall where the Electors used to sit on the election of an Emperor of the Romans, are to be seen the portraits of several of the Emperors, and a very striking one in particular of the Emperor Joseph II, in full length, in his Imperial robes. There is no table d’hote at the _Swan_ for supper, but this meal is served up _a la carte_, which is very convenient for those who do not require copious meals. At the same table with me at supper sat a very agreeable man with whom I entered into conversation. He was a Hessian and had served in a Hessian battalion in the English service during the American war. He was so kind as to procure me admission to the Casino at the Hotel Rumpf,[31] where there is a literary institution and where they receive newspapers, pamphlets and reviews in the German, French, English and Italian languages. In Frankfort there are several houses of individuals which merit the name of palaces, and there is a great display of opulence and industry in this city. In the environs there is abundance of _maisons de plaisance_. For commerce it is the most bustling city (inland) in all Germany, besides it being the seat of the present German Diet; and from here, as from a centre, diverge the high roads to all parts of the Empire.
I have been once at the theatre, which is very near the _Swan_. A German opera, the scene whereof was in India, was given. The scenery and decorations were good, appropriate, and the singing very fair. The theatre itself is dirty and gloomy. The German language appears to me to be better adapted to music than either the French or English. The number of dactylic terminations in the language give to it all the variety that the _sdruccioli_ give to the Italian. As to poetry, no language in the world suits itself better to all the vagaries and phantasies of the Muse, since it possesses so much natural rythm and allows, like the Greek, the combination of compound words and a redundancy of epithets, and it is besides so flexible that it lends itself to all the ancient as well as the modern metres with complete success: indeed it is the only modern language that I know of which does so.
As for political opinions here, the Germans seem neither to wish nor to care about the restoration of the Bourbons; but they talk loudly of the necessity of tearing Alsace and Lorraine from France. In fact, they wish to put it out of the power of the French ever to invade Germany again; a thing however little to be hoped for. For the minor and weaker Germanic states have always hitherto (and will probably again at some future day) invoked the assistance of France against the greater and stronger. I observe that the Austrian Government is not at all popular here, and that its bad faith in financial matters is so notorious and has been so severely felt here, that a merchant told me, alluding to the bankruptcy of the Austrian Government on two occasions when there was no absolute necessity for the measure, that Frankfort had suffered more from the bad faith of the Austrian Government than from all the war contributions levied by the French.
BRUXELLES, 28th July.
On arrival at Coblentz we heard that Napoleon had surrendered himself unconditionally to Capt. Maitland of the _Bellerophon_. He never should have humiliated himself so far as to surrender himself to the British ministry. He owed to himself, to his brave fellow soldiers, to the French nation whose Sovereign he had been, not to take such a step, but rather die in the field like our Richard III, a glorious death which cast a lustre around his memory in spite of the darker shades of his character; or if he could not fall in the field, he should have died like Hannibal, rather than commit himself into the hands of a government in which generosity is by no means a distinguishing feature, and which on many occasions has shown a petty persecuting and vindictive spirit, and thus I have no hesitation in portraying the characteristics of our Tory party, which, unfortunately for the cause of liberty, rules with undivided sway over England. He will now end his days in captivity, for his destination appears to be already fixed, and St Helena is named as the intended residence; he will, I say, be exposed to all the taunts and persecutions that petty malice can suggest; and this with the most uncomfortable reflections: for had he been more considerate of the spirit of the age, he might have set all the Monarchs, Ultras and Oligarchs and their ministers at defiance. But he wished to ape Charlemagne and the Caesars and to establish an universal Empire: a thing totally impossible in our days and much to be deprecated were it possible.
Consigned to St Helena, Napoleon will furnish to posterity a proverb like that of Dionysius at Corinth. This banishment to St Helena will be very ungenerous and unjust on the part of the English Government, but I suppose their satellites and adherents will term it an act of clemency, and some _Church and Kingmen_ would no doubt recommend hewing him in pieces, as Samuel did to Agag.
I stopped three days at Aix-la-Chapelle to drink the waters and then came straight to this place stopping half a day in Liege. I shall start for Paris in a couple of days, as the communication is now open and the public conveyances re-established. My passport is _vise_ in the following terms: “Bon pour aller a Paris en suivant la route des armees alliees.” I am quite impatient to visit that celebrated city.
[18] Philipp Klingmann (1762-1824) was better known as an actor than as an author.–ED.
[19] Ariosto, _Orlando Furioso_, VII, 12, 1.–ED.
[20] “What business have you? None, I travel for amusement. Strange! What is there strange in travelling to see a fine country?”
[21] _Le Compere Mathieu_, a satirical novel by the Abbe Henri Joseph Dulaurens, published 1765 and sometimes (though wrongly) attributed to Voltaire. One of the prominent talkers in the dialogues is Pere Jean de Domfront.–ED.
[22] Horace, _Epist_., I, i, 15.–ED.
[23] This altar, inscribed _Deae Victoriae Sacrum (Corpus inscr. lat_. XIII, 8252), was erected by the Roman fleet on the Rhine at the place now called _Altsburg_ near Cologne and, after its discovery, taken to Bonn, where it was set up on the _Remigius-Platz_ (now called _Roemer-Platz_) on Dec, 3, 1809. It is now in the Provincial Museum.–ED.
[24] Ariosto, _Orlando Furioso_, vi, 20, 3.–ED.
[25] August Lafontaine (1758-1831), born in Brunswick of a family of French protestants, was the very prolific and now quite forgotten author of many novels and novelettes.–ED.
[26] From Ernst Moritz Arndt’s (1779-1860) celebrated poem, _Des Deutschen Vaterland_.–ED.
[27] There seems to be much truth in this opinion, though the question of the intrigues of Louis XVIII with Robespierre is still shrouded in obscurity. Some pages of General Thiebault’s memoirs might have cleared it up, but they have been torn out from the manuscript (_Memoires du General Baron Thiebault_, vol. I, p. 273). Louis XVIII paid a pension to Robespierre’s sister, Charlotte.–ED.
[28] Sir Charles Stewart, created Lord Stewart In 1814; he was a half-brother of Lord Castlereagh.–ED.
[29] The same story is given, with slight differences, by Lafayette himself (_Memoires_, vol. V, p. 472-3; Paris and Leipzig, 1838). See also _Souvenirs historiques et parlementaires du Comte de Pontecoulant_, vol. III, p. 428 (Paris, 1863). Major Frye’s narrative is by far the oldest and seems the most trustworthy.–ED.
[30] The house in question was built about 1780 by Nicolas de Pigage for the rich merchant, Franz von Schweizer; Pigage was the son of the architect of King Stanislas at Nancy. The Schweizer palace became later on the _Hotel de Russie_ and was demolished about 1890, the Imperial Post Office having been erected in its place. The Schweizer family is now extinct.–ED.
[31] A _Casinogesellschaft_, still in existence (1908), was founded at Frankfort in 1805, with the object of uniting the aristocratic elements of the city, admittance being freely allowed to distinguished strangers, in particular to the envoys of the _Bundestag_. The _Gesellschaft_ or club occupied spacious rooms in the house of the once famous _tapissier_ and decorator Major Rumpf, grandfather of the German sculptor of the same name. That building, situated at the corner of the _Rossmarkt_, was demolished about 1880.–ED.
CHAPTER III
From Bruxelles to Paris–Restoration of Louis XVIII–The officers of the allied armies–The Palais Royal–The Louvre–Protest of the author against the proposed despoiling of the French Museums–Unjust strictures against Napoleon’s military policy–The _cant_ about revolutionary robberies–The Grand Opera–Monuments in Paris–The Champs Elysees–Saint-Cloud–The Hotel des Invalides–The Luxembourg–General Labedoyere–Priests and emigrants–Prussian Plunder–Handsome behaviour of the English officers– Reminiscences of Eton–Versailles.
PARIS, August 3rd.
Here I am in Paris. I left Bruxelles the 29th July, stopped one night at Mons and passing thro’ Valenciennes, Peronne and St Quentin arrived here on the third day. The villages and towns on the road had been pretty well stripped of eatables by the Allied army, as well as by the French, so that we did not meet with the best fare. In every village the white flag was displayed by way of propitiating the clemency of the Allies and averting plunder.
August 7th.
I have put up at the _Hotel de Cahors_, Rue de Richelieu, where I pay five francs per diem for a single room; such is the dearness of lodgings at this moment. It is well furnished, however, with sofas, commodes, mirrors and a handsome clock and is very spacious withal, there being an alcove for the bed. This situation is extremely convenient, being close to the Palais Royal, Rue St Honore, Theatre Francais, Louvre and the Tuileries on one side, and to the Grand Opera, the Theatre Feydeau, the Italian Opera and the Boulevards on the other. The National Library is not many yards distant from my hotel, and a few yards from that _en face_ is the Grand Opera house or _Academie Royale de Musique_.
This city is filled with officers and travellers of all kinds who have followed the army. The House of Legislature of the Hundred Days,–as it is the fashion to style Napoleon’s last reign–dissolved themselves on the demand of a million of francs as a war contribution made by Marshall Blucher. Louis XVIII has been hustled into Paris, and now occupies the throne of his ancestors under the protection of a million of foreign bayonets, and the _banniere des Lis_ has replaced the tricolor on the castle of the Tuileries. A detachment of the British army occupies Montmartre, where the British flag is flying, and in the Champs Elysees and Bois de Boulogne are encamped several brigades of English and Hanoverians. The Sovereigns of Russia, Austria and Prussia are expected and then it is said that the fate of France will be decided. The Army of the Loire has at length made its submission to the King, after stipulating but in vain for the beloved tricolor. Report says it is to be immediately dissolved and a new army raised with more legitimate inclinations. Should the King accede to this, France will be completely disarmed and at the mercy of the Allies, and the King himself a state prisoner. The entrance into Paris, thro’ the Faubourg St Denis, does not give to the stranger who arrives there for the first time a great idea of the magnificence of Paris; he should enter by the Avenue de Neuilly or by the Porte St Antoine, both of which are very striking and superb.
Now you must not expect that I shall or can give you a description of all the fine things that I have seen or am about to see, for they have been so often described before that it would be a perfect waste of time, and I can do better in referring you at once to the _Guide des Voyageurs a Paris_; so that I shall content myself with merely indicating these objects which make the most impression on me.
My first visit was, as you will have no doubt guessed, to the Palais Royal: there I breakfasted, there I dined, and there I passed the whole day without the least _ennui_. It is a world in itself. It swarms at present with officers of the Allied army. The variety of uniforms adds to the splendour and novelty of the scene. The restaurants and cafes are filled with them. The Palais Royal is certainly the temple of animal gratification, the paradise of gastronomes. The officers are indulging in all sorts of luxury, revelling in Champaign and Burgundy, in all the pleasures of the belly, as well as _in iis quae sub ventre sunt_. ‘Twill be a famous harvest for the restaurateurs and for the Cyprians who parade up and down the Arcades, sure of a constant succession of suitors. In fact, whatever be the taste of a man, whether sensual or intellectual or both, he can gratify himself here without moving out of the precincts of the Palais Royal. Here are cafes, restaurants, shops of all kinds whose display of clocks, jewellery, stuffs, silks, merchandize from all parts of the world, is most brilliant and dazzling; here you find reading-rooms where newspapers, reviews and pamphlets of all tongues, nations and languages are to be met with; here are museums of paintings, statues, plans in relief, cosmoramas; here are libraries, gaming houses, houses of fair reception; cellars where music, dancing and all kinds of orgies are carried on; exhibitions of all sorts, learned pigs, dancing dogs, military canary birds, hermaphrodites, giants, dwarf jugglers from Hindostan, catawbas from America, serpents from Java, and crocodiles from the Nile. Here, so Kotzebue has calculated, you may go through all the functions of life in one day and end it afterwards should you be so inclined. You may eat, drink, sleep, bathe, go to the _Cabinet d’aisance_, walk, read, make love, game and, should you be tired of life, you may buy powder and ball or opium to hasten your journey across Styx; or should you desire a more classic _exit_, you may die like Seneca opening your veins in a bath. Deep play goes forward day and night, and I verily believe there are some persons in Paris who never quit these precincts. The restaurants and cafes are most brilliantly fitted up. One, _Le Cafe des Mille Colonnes_, so called from the reflection of the columns in the mirrors with which the wainscoat is lined, boasts of a _limonadiere_ of great beauty. She is certainly a fine woman, dresses very well, as indeed most French women do, and has a remarkably fine turned arm which she takes care to display on all occasions. I do not, however, perceive much animation in her; she always appears the same, nor has she made any more impression on me–tho’ I am of a very susceptible nature in this particular–than a fine statue or picture would do. There she sits on a throne and receives the hommage and compliments of most of the visitors and the money of all, which seems to please her most, for she receives the compliments which are paid her with the utmost _sang-froid_ and indifference, and the money she takes especial care to count. English troops, conjointly with the National Guard, do duty at the entrance of the Palais Royal from the Rue St Honore; and it became necessary to have a strong guard to keep the peace, as frequent disputes take place between the young men of the Capital and the Prussian officers, against whom the French are singularly inveterate.
The French, when left to themselves, are very peaceable in their pleasures and the utmost public decorum is observed; their sobriety contributes much to this; but if there were in London an establishment similar to that of the Palais Royal, it would become a perfect pandemonium and would require an army to keep the peace. The French police keep a very sharp look-out on all political offences, but are more indulgent towards all moral ones, as long as public decorum is not infringed, and then it is severely punished. But they have none of that censoriousness or prying spirit in France which is so common in England to hunt out and criticise the private vices of their neighbours, which, in my opinion, does not proceed from any real regard for virtue, but from a fanatical, jealous, envious, and malignant spirit. Those vice-hunters never have the courage to attack a man of wealth and power; but a poor artisan or labourer, who buys a piece of meat after twelve o’clock on Saturday night, or a glass of spirits during church-time on Sunday, is termed a Sabbath-breaker and imprisoned without mercy.
In the Palais Royal the three most remarkable temples of dissipation are Very’s for gastronomes, Robert’s faro bank for gamesters, and the Cafe Montausier for those devoted to the fair sex. The Cafe Montausier is fitted up in the guise of a theatre where music, singing and theatrical pieces are given; you pay nothing for admission, but are expected to call for some refreshment. It is splendidly illuminated, and is the Cafe _par excellence_, frequented by those ladies who have made the opposite choice to that of Hercules, and who, taking into consideration the shortness and uncertainty of life, dedicate it entirely to pleasure, reflecting that
Laggiu nell’ Inferno,
Nell’ obblio sempiterno,
In sempiterno orrore,
Non si parla d’amore.
Of course, this saloon is crowded with amateurs, and the Prussians and English are not the least ardent votaries of the Goddess of Paphos; many a vanquished victor sinks oppressed with wine and love on the breast of a Dalilah: this last comparison suggests itself to me from the immense quantity of hair worn by the Prussians, as if their strength, like that of Samson’s, depended on their _chevelure_. There is a very pretty graceful girl who attends here and at the different restaurants and cafes with an assortment of bijouterie and other knick-knacks to sell. She is full of wit and repartee; but her answer to all those who attempt to squeeze her hand and make love to her is always: “_Achetez quelque chose._” Her name is Celine and she has a great flow of conversation on all subjects but that of love, which she invariably cuts short by “_Achetez quelque chose._”
10th August.
I have been to see the Museum of sculpture and painting in the Louvre, but what is to be seen there baffles all description:
Se tante lingue avessi e tante voci
Quanti occhi il cielo o quante arene il mare Non basterian a dir le lodi immense.
The _Apollo Belvedere_, the _Venus de Medici_ and the _Laocoon_ first claimed my attention, and engaged me for at least an hour and a half before I could direct my attention to the other masterpieces. I admire indeed the _Laocoon_, still more the _Venus_, but the _Apollo_ certainly bears away the palm and I fully participate of all Winkelmann’s enthusiasm for that celebrated statue. The _Venus_ is a very beautiful woman, but the _Apollo_ is a god. One is lost, and one’s imagination is bewildered when one enters into the halls of sculpture of this unparalleled collection, amidst the statues of Gods, Demi-Gods, Heroes, Philosophers, Poets, Roman Emperors, Statesmen and all the illustrious worthies that adorned the Greek and Roman page. What subjects for contemplation! A chill of awe and veneration pervaded my whole frame when I first entered into that glorious temple of the Arts. I felt as I should were I admitted among supernatural beings, or as if I had “shuffled off this mortal coil” and were suddenly ushered into the presence of the illustrious tenants of another world; in fact, I felt as if Olympus and the whole Court of Immortals were open to my view. No! I cannot describe these things, I can only feel them; I throw down the pen and call upon expressive silence to muse their praise.
Of the Picture Gallery too what can I say that can possibly give you an idea of its variety and extent? Here are the finest works of the Italian, Flemish, and French schools, and you are as much embarrassed to single out the favourite object, as the Grand Signor would be, among six or seven hundred of the most beautiful women in the world, to make his choice. The only fault I find in this collection is that there were rather too many Scripture pieces, Crucifixions, Martyrdoms and allegorical pictures, and too few from historical or mythological subjects. Yet perhaps I am wrong in classing the Scripture pieces with Martyrdoms, Crucifixions, Grillings of Saints and Madonnas; there are very many beautiful episodes in the Scriptures which would furnish admirable subjects for painters. Why then have they chosen disgusting subjects such as Judith sawing off Holofernes’ head, Siserah’s head nailed to the bedpost, John the Baptist’s on a trencher, etc.? But the pictures representing Martyrdoms are too revolting to the eye and should not be placed in this Museum.
It is reported that the Allies mean to strip this Museum [of sculpture and painting]. No! it cannot be, they never surely can be guilty of such an act of Vandalism and contemptible spite. I am aware that there is a great clamour amongst a certain description of English for restoring these statues and pictures to the countries from whence they came, and that it is the fashion to term the translation of them to Paris a revolutionary robbery; but let us bring these gentlemen to a calm reasoning on the subject.
The statues and paintings in question belonged either to Governments at war with France, or to individuals inhabiting those countries; now, with respect to individuals, I will venture to affirm, on the best authority, that the property of no individual was taken from him without an equivalent. Those who had statues and pictures of value and wished to sell them, received their full value from the French Government, but there was no force used on the occasion; in fact, many who were in want of money were rejoiced at the opportunity of selling, as they could never have otherwise disposed of those valuable articles to individuals at the same price that the French Government gave. I recollect a day or two ago being in conversation with a Milanese on this subject and others connected with the occupation of Italy by the French. I happened to mention that the conquest of Italy by the Republican armies must have been attended with confiscation of property; he assured me that no such thing as confiscation of property took place; that so far from being the losers by the French invasion and the establishment of their system, they had on the contrary been considerable gainers, for that the country flourished under their domination in a manner before unknown, and that one of the greatest advantages attendant on the occupation was the establishment of an equality of weight and measures, the decimal division of the coin, the introduction of an admirable code of laws free’d from all barbarisms–legal, political and theological–and intelligible to all classes, so that there was no occasion to cite old authors and go back for three or four hundred years to hunt out authorities and precedents for what men of sense could determine at once by following the dictates of their own judgment.
With respect to the statues and pictures belonging to the different governments of Italy, it must never be forgotten that these governments made war against the French Revolution either openly or insidiously, and did their utmost to aid the coalition to crush the infant liberties of France. Those who did not act openly did so covertly and indirectly; in short, from their tergiversations and intrigues, they had no claim whatever on the mercy of the conquerors, who treated them with a great deal of clemency. The destruction of these governments was loudly called for by the people themselves, who looked on the French as their deliverers.
It will be admitted, I believe, that it is and has been the custom on the continent, in all wars, for all parties to levy war contributions on the conquered or occupied countries; but Buonoparte thought it more glorious for the French name to take works of art instead of money; and not a statue or picture was taken from the vanquished governments except by a solemn treaty of cession, or given in lieu of contributions at the option of the owners, and the Princes were very glad to give up their pictures and statues, which the most of them did not know how to appreciate, in lieu of money which they were all anxious to keep; and on these articles a fair value was fixed by competent judges. In this manner did the French become the possessors of these valuable objects of art, and in this manner was the noble Museum in Paris filled up, and surely nothing could be more generous and liberal than the use made of the Museum by the French Government; foreigners were indeed more favoured than the inhabitants themselves. To the inhabitants of Paris this Museum is open twice a week; but to foreigners on producing their passports, it is open every day in the week all the year round; artists of all nations are allowed, during a certain number of hours each day, to come to copy the statues and pictures which suit their taste; and stoves are lighted for their accommodation during winter, and all this gratis.–Now, before these objects of art were collected here, they were distributed, some in churches, and some in Government palaces. To see the first, required a specific introduction to the owner; to see the second, application to the attendants of the churches became necessary, and for both these you were required to pay fees to the servants and church-attendants, who are always impatient to take your fee and hurry you through the apartments or chapels, scarcely giving you time to examine anything. To be admitted into the Government palaces was a matter of favour, and here also fees were required.[32] Here in the Louvre there is no introduction required; no court to be paid to _major-domos_, no favour; it is open to all classes, high and low, without exception, and no money is allowed to be given.
But there are some people, in their ridiculous fury against the French Revolution, who would fain persuade us that before that epoch there was a golden age on the earth, that there were no acts of violence committed, no frauds practised, no property injured, no individuals ill-used; that every Prince governed like Numa; that every noble was a Bayard, and every priest like a primitive apostle. Why I need go no further than the Seven Years’ war to show that in that war, during the height of European civilisation, and carried on between the most polished nations in Europe, there were much more acts of violence and rapine carried on than ever were done by the French republicans. I by no means wish to excuse or even palliate the acts of ferocity which took place at that epoch of the French Revolution called the reign of Terror, which were executed by a people wrought up to frenzy by a recollection of their wrongs; and I know too well that many virtuous individuals fell victims to their indiscriminating fury; but I do believe and aver that much more clamour was made at the execution of a handful of corrupt courtiers, intriguing and profligate women of quality and worthless priests, than all the rest put together.
To return to the Seven Years’ war (I may be permitted to take this retrospect, I hope, since it is the fashion, and those who differ with me in opinions go much farther back than I do), let the French royalists and emigrants recollect the confiscation of property and barbarity exercised by Marshall Richelieu in Hanover, where many families were reduced to beggary. They may not chuse to recollect this; but the Hanoverians do and they have not forgotten the _Pavillon de Hanovre_, so called by the wits of the time from its having been built by the Marshall with money arising from the spoils of Hanover; will they recollect also the harsh treatment inflicted on the burghers and citizens of a town in Germany, who were shut up in a room and kept without food or drink for nearly three days because they would not consent to fix a heavy and unwarrantable contribution on their fellow citizens; when these unhappy but virtuous men were only allowed to go out for the necessities of nature attended by sentries, and on the third day, when fainting with hunger, a little bread and water was given to them, with an assurance that in future they were not to expect such luxuries. Have they forgot the devastation committed in Berlin by the Austrians in the Seven Years’ war, when they pillaged, burned or destroyed all the valuable property of the royal Palaces, the most valuable works of art, vases, statues of antiquity, the loss of which could never be replaced; when they lopped off the heads, arms and legs of the statues? Have they forgot the conduct of the belligerent powers at the siege of Dresden at the same epoch, when whole families, among whom were helpless old men and women with children at the breast, were compelled to leave Dresden in the middle of a most rigorous winter and were driven to take refuge in the fields where the most of them perished with hunger and cold; and where many individuals lost their reason and became insane from the treatment they received? Have they forgotten the merciless barbarities inflicted by the Russians in the same war on the inhabitants of the Prussian territory? their ripping up and burning men, women, and children? and the dreadful retaliation inflicted on them at the battle of Zorndorff, when the Prussians, exasperated at the idea of those horrors so fresh in their memory, on being ordered to bury the Russian dead, threw the wounded men also belonging to that nation into the graves dug for the dead, to be thus buried alive, and hastily filled them up with earth, as if fearful that they might relent, did they give themselves time for reflection? These are not exaggerations; they are given by an author celebrated for his impartiality and deep research and who was an eye-witness of many of these proceedings; I mean Archenholz in his admirable history of the Seven Years’ war.[33]
Then again in the war of American Independence (and here my countrymen must excuse me if I point out the acts of injustice committed by them, when acting in obedience to an unprincipled and arbitrary government and in a cause hostile to freedom), who does not recollect the private property wantonly destroyed and confiscated by the English? their employing the Indian tribes, those merciless savages of the forest, to scalp, etc., which called forth the indignation of a Chatham? and the grossly unjust pillage and confiscation of property which took place at St Eustatius by the commanders of a _religious and gracious King_?[34] Again, who does not recollect the gentle but deep reproof given by the American General Schuyler to the English General Burgoyne, when the latter was made prisoner by the Americans under Gates? General Schuyler’s valuable house, barns, etc., had been burned by the express order of Burgoyne. Nevertheless, Schuyler received him with dignified politeness, magnanimously stifled the recollection of the injury he had received, and obtained for him a good quarter, merely remarking, “General, had my house and farms not been burned, I could have offered you a more comfortable abode.” How Burgoyne must have felt this reproof! yet he was not by nature a harsh man, but he had the orders of his government to exercise severities; he was educated in Tory principles, and passive obedience is their motto.
Can one forget likewise even, in the late war, Nelson’s conduct to Caraccioli at Naples, whom he caused to be hanged on board of an English ship of war, together with a number of other patriots, in violation of a solemn capitulation, by which it had been stipulated that they should be considered as prisoners of war and sent to France? Then again the wanton destruction of the Capitol and other public buildings at Washington not devoted to military purposes, which it is not usual to destroy or deface; and the valuable public library too which was burned? What excuse can be offered for this? Were the times of Omar returned? It is fair and allowed by the laws of war to blow up and destroy arsenals, magazines, containing warlike stores and engines of destruction, but to destroy with Gothic barbarity buildings of great symmetry and beauty, and a library too–O fie!
Why I will defy any man to point out a single instance where the French republican armies or Napoleon ever injured or wantonly destroyed a single national edifice, a single work of art, a single book belonging to any other country! On the contrary, they invariably extended their protection to the Arts and Sciences. Why at Vienna, where there is, I understand, a most splendid museum, and many most valuable works of art and antiquity, tho’ this city fell twice into their possession, they never destroyed or took away a single article; but, on the contrary, there, as well as in Berlin, they invited the inhabitants to form a civic guard for the protection of their property. As to the Vandalism shewn during the reign of Terror, and I by no means seek to palliate it, that was of short duration, it was madness, if you will, but it was disinterested–and other nations who talk a great deal about their superior morality would do well to look at home. They would there observe, in their own historic page, that the atrocities of the French Revolution have not only been equalled but surpassed perhaps by more dreadful scenes committed at Wexford in 1798, under the auspices of the Government then ruling Ireland and which the noble and virtuous —-[35] disdained to serve.
Excuse this long digression, but I feel it my duty to open the eyes of my countrymen and prevent them from supporting on all occasions the unjust acts of their Government, which reflect dishonour on a great and enlightened nation; which can boast, among its annals, of some of the most heroic, splendid, and disinterested characters that ever the world produced.
All that I need add on the subject of the statues and pictures is, that putting out of the question the justice or injustice of the restitution, it will be a great loss to England and to English artists in particular, should they be removed: many an artist can afford to make a trip to Paris, who would find it beyond his means to make a journey to Florence or Rome.
If these objects of art are to be taken away, it should be stipulated so in the treaty of peace; and then everybody would understand it. This would be putting it on the fairest footing. You then say to France: “You gained these things by conquest; you lose them by defeat”; but for God’s sake let us have no more of that _cant_ about revolutionary robberies!
PARIS, —-
I went for the first time to the Grand Opera, or, as it is here called, the Academie Royale de Musique, which is in the Rue de Richelieu. _Armida_ was the piece performed, the music by Glueck. The decorations were splendid and the dancing beyond all praise. The scenes representing the garden of Armida and the nymphs dancing fully expressed in the mimic art those beautiful lines of Tasso:
Cogliam d’amor la rosa! amiamo or, quando Esser si puote riamato amando![36]
The effect of the dissolution of the palace and gardens by the waving of Armida’s wand is astonishing; it appears completely to be the work of inchantment, from the rapidity of execution which follows the _potentissime parole_. The French recitative however does not please me. The serious opera is an exotic and does not seem to thrive on the soil of France. The language does not possess sufficient intonation to give effect to the recitative.
On the contrary, the comic operas are excellent; and here the national music and singing appear to great advantage. It never degenerates to the grotesque or absurd _buffo_ of the Italians, but is always exquisitely graceful, simple, touching and natural.
Among the ballets, I have seen perhaps three of the best, viz., _Achille a Scyros, Flore et Zephire_ and _La folle par amour_. In the ballet of Flore and Zephire, the dancers who did these two parts appeared more aerian than earthly. To use a phrase of Burke’s, I never beheld so _beautiful a vision. Nina_, or _la folle par amour_, is a ballet from private life. The title sufficiently explains its purport; it is exquisitely touching and pathetic. O what a divine creature is Bigottini! what symmetry of form! what innate grace, what a captivating expression of countenance; and then the manner in which she did the mad scenes and her return to reason! Oh! I was moved even to tears. Never had any performance such an effect upon me. What a magnificent _tout ensemble_ is the Grand Opera at Paris! Whenever I feel chagrined or melancholy I shall come here; I feel as if I were in a new world; the fiction appears reality; my senses are ravished, and I forget all my cares.
I have very little pleasure in visiting royal Palaces, unless they have been the residence of some transcendent, person like Napoleon or Frederick II of Prussia, as the sight of splendid furniture and royal pomp affords me no gratification; and I would rather visit Washington’s or Lafayette’s farms in company with these distinguished men than dine with all the monarchs of Europe. After a hasty glance at the furniture of the Tuileries, what fixed my attention for a considerable time was “La Salle des Marechaux,” where are the portraits of all the modern French Marshalls. They are all full length portraits and are striking resemblances; some are in the Marshall’s undress uniform and others in the full court costume which is very elegant, being the costume of the time of Francis I with the Spanish hat and plumes. I did not observe Ney’s or Soult’s portraits among them.
In front of the great square of the Tuileries where the troops exercise, stands the Arch of Triumph erected by Napoleon, commonly called _l’Arc du Carrousel_. It is a beautiful piece of architecture, but is far too small to tally with such a vast mass of buildings as the Palace and offices of the Tuileries. By the side of them it appears almost Lilliputian. It would have been better to have made it in the style of the triumphal arch of the Porte St Denis. On this arc of the Carrousel are _bas-reliefs_ both outside and inside, representing various actions of Napoleon’s life. He is always represented in the Roman costume, with the imperial laurel on his brows, with kings kneeling, and presenting the keys of conquered cities. On the outside are statues, large as life, in modern military costume, representing the different _armes_ which compose the French army.[37] On the top of this Arc du Carrousel is an antique car of triumph, to which are harnessed the four bronze horses which were taken from the facade of the Church of San Marco in Venice. They are of beautiful workmanship and of great antiquity. What various and mighty revolutions have these horses witnessed! Cast in Corinth in the time of the glories of the Grecian commonwealths and removed by conquest to Rome, they witnessed the successive fall of the Grecian and Roman states; transferred to Constantinople in the time of Constantine, and from thence removed to Venice when Constantinople fell into the hands of the French and Venetians; transferred from thence to Paris in 1798, they have witnessed the successive falls of the Eastern and Western Empires, of the Republic of Venice and the Napoleonic dynasty and Empire. Report says they are to be restored to Venice; and who knows whether they may not be destined one day to return to their original country, Greece, under perhaps Russian auspices?
The Gardens of the Tuileries which lie at the back part of the palace are very spacious, well laid out in walks and lined with trees. Large basins inlaid with stone, fountains and statues add to the grandeur of these gardens; they extend from the Tuileries as far as the Place Louis XV parallel to the Seine, and are separated by a wall and parapet and a beautiful cast iron railing from the Quai, and on the other side from the Rue de Rivoli, one of the new streets, and the best in Paris for pedestrians. On the side opposite the palace itself is the _Place Louis XV_, called in the time of the republic _Place de la Revolution_, and where the unfortunate Louis XVI suffered decapitation. The _Place Louis XV_ is by far the most magnificent thing of the kind I have ever seen and far exceeds the handsomest of our squares in London. On one side of it is the _Hotel du Garde Meuble_, a superb edifice. On the other the Quai, the river; and on the other side of the river is the _Palais du Corps legislatif_, now the place where the Chamber of Deputies hold their sitting, and which has a magnificent facade. In front of this place are the Champs Elysees and avenue of Neuilly and behind the gardens and palace of the Tuileries.
My next visit was to the _Place Vendome_, where stands the majestic column of the Grand Army. To me this column is the most striking thing of its kind that I have hitherto seen. It is of bronze and of the most beautiful workmanship, cast from the cannon taken from the Austrians in the war of 1805, and on it are figured in bas-relief the various battles and achievements, winding round and round from the base to the capital. It is constructed after the model of the Column of Trajan in Rome.
The next place I visited was the Chamber of Deputies. It is a fine building with a Doric facade and columns; it is peculiarly striking from its noble simplicity. On the facade are bas-reliefs representing actions in Napoleon’s life. The flight of steps leading to the facade is very grand, and there are colossal figures representing Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and other legislative virtues. The Chamber itself where the Deputies hold their sittings is in the form of a Greek theatre; the arch of the semi-circle forms the gallery appropriated to the audience, and comprehends in its enclosure the seats of the deputies like the seats in a Greek theatre; on the chord of the semi-circle where the _proscenium_ should be, is the tribune and President’s seat. The whole is exceedingly elegant. The Orator whose turn it is to speak leaves his seat, ascends the tribune and faces the Deputies. The anti-rooms adjoining this Chamber are fitted up with long tables and fauteuils and are appropriated to the sittings of the various committees. These antichambers are hung round with pictures representing the victories of the French armies; but they are covered with green baize and carefully concealed from the public eye in order to stifle recollections and prevent comparisons.
PARIS, August.
I mounted on horseback and rode out to St Cloud to breakfast, passing through the Champs Elysees, the Bois de Boulogne and the little town of Passy, and returned by the Quai, as far as the bridge of Jena, which I passed and went to visit the _Hotel des Invalides, le Champ de Mars_, the _Pantheon_ or Church of St Genevieve and the Palace of the Luxembourg. This was pretty good work for one day; and as you will expect some little account of my ideas thereon, I shall give you a _precis_ of what most interested me.
In the Champs Elysees are quartered several English regiments who are encamped there, and this adds to the liveliness of the scene; our soldiers seem to enjoy themselves very much. They are in the midst of places of recreation of all kinds, such as guinguettes, tennis-courts, dancing salons and cafes, and besides these (places of Elysium for English soldiers), wine and brandy shops innumerable; our soldiers seem to agree very well with the inhabitants. In the Bois de Boulogne are Hanoverian troops as well as English. At Passy I stopped at the house occupied by my friend, Major C. of the 33rd Regt.,[38] who was to accompany me to St Cloud. St Cloud is an exceedingly neat pretty town, well and solidly built, and tolerably large. There are a great many good restaurants and cafes, as St Cloud with its Palace, promenades and gardens forms one of the most favourite resorts of the Parisians on Sundays and _jours de fete_. Diners _de societe_ and _noces et festins_ are often made here; and there is both land and water conveyance during the whole day. There are two roads by land from Paris: the one on the Quai the whole way; the other through the Bois de Boulogne and Champs Elysees. The gardens of St Cloud are laid out something in the style of a _jardin anglais_, but mixed with the regular old fashioned garden; it abounds in lofty trees, beautiful sites and well arranged vistas commanding extensive views of Paris and the country environing. St Cloud was the favourite residence of Napoleon; and the furniture in the palace here shows him to be a man of the most refined taste. All is elegant and classic; there is nothing superfluous; the furniture is modern, but in strict imitation of the furniture of the ancients and chiefly in bronze. There are superb vases and candelabras in marble, magnificent clocks of various kinds, marble busts, and busts in bronze of great men, and bronze statues large as life holding lamps. The chairs and sofas too are in a classic taste, as are the beds and baths. We were informed here that Blucher, who passed one night here, tore with his spur the satin covering of one of the sofas and that he did it wilfully; but I never can believe that the old man would be so silly, and I rather think that this story is an invention of the keeper of the Palace, or that if it was done, it was done by an accident merely. But the fact is that Blucher has a contempt for and hates the Parisians and likes to mortify them on all occasions; he threatens to do a number of things which he never seriously intends, merely for the sake of teasing them; and it must be owned that they deserve a little contempt from the want of _caractere_ they showed on the entrance of the Allies. Be it as it may, Blucher is the _bete noire_ of the Parisians and they are as much afraid of him as the children are of _Monsieur Croque-mitaine_.
We returned from St Cloud by the Quai, crossed the bridge of Jena, galloped along the _Champs de Mars_, took a hasty glance at the _Hotel des Invalides_, a magnificent edifice and which may be distinguished from all other buildings by its gilded cupola. It is a superb establishment in every respect, and is furnished with an excellent library. A great many old soldiers are to be seen in this library occupied in reading; they are very polite to all visitors, particularly to ladies. Nothing can better demonstrate the superior character, intelligence and deportment of the French soldiers over those of all other countries than the way in which they employ their time in literary pursuits, their dignified politeness to visitors and the intelligent answers they give to questions. I am afraid our British veterans, brave as they are in the field, occupy themselves, when laid up as invalids, more in destroying their bodies by spirituous liquors than in improving their minds by reading. The Chapel of this establishment where were displayed the banners and trophies taken at different epochs from the enemies of France, and which were much mutilated by the wars since the Revolution, is now stripped of all the ensigns of glory. They were all burned by the French themselves previous to the capitulation of Paris in 1814, in order to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy. An old soldier who was my guide related this with tears in his eyes, but suddenly checking himself said: “_Mais telle est l’histoire_.”
The only things now in this Chapel that interest the eye of the traveller are the monuments of Vauban and Turenne. Of the rest nought remains but the brilliant souvenirs.
Fuit Ilium, et ingens
Gloria Teucrorum!…[39]
I had a great deal of difficulty in inducing this old soldier to accept of three franks; I told him at last that, as he did not want it himself, to take it and give it to somebody that did. I then visited the rest of the establishment. There is a whole range of rooms which contains models or plans in relief of all the fortresses of France; they are admirably and most minutely executed; not only the fortifications and public buildings, but the private houses, the gardens, orchards, meadows, mountains, hill and dale, bridges, trees, every feature of the ground in fine and of the surrounding country are given in miniature. In fact it gives you the same idea of the places themselves and of the environing country as if you were held up in the air over them to inspect them; or as if you viewed them from a balloon at the distance of 800 yards from the earth. The models of Strassburg, Lille and three or four others have been taken away by the Austrians and Prussians, but I have seen those of Calais, Dunkirk, Villefranche, Toulon, and Brest, and in fact almost every other French fortress. This is one of the most interesting sights in Paris, and for this we are certainly indebted to the occupation; for I question much if travellers were ever permitted to see these models until Paris fell into the hands of the Allies. Prussian sentries do duty at the doors; how grating this must be to the old invalids! Among the models I must not omit to mention a very curious one which represents the battle of Lodi. The town of Lodi, the bridge and river are admirably executed. The soldiers are represented by little figures about a quarter of an inch in height and cobwebs are disposed so as to represent the smoke of the firearms, Buonaparte and his staff are on horseback on one side of the bridge. There is also a very fine model of the _Hotel des Invalides_ itself.
From hence we went to the garden and palace of the Luxembourg. These gardens form the midday and afternoon promenade of that part of the city. In one wing of the Palace is the Chamber of Peers, elegantly fitted up and in some respect resembling a Greek theatre. The busts of Cicero, Brutus, Demosthenes, Phocion and other great men of antiquity adorn the niches of this chamber and on the grand _escalier_ are the statues in natural size of Kleber, Dessaix, Caffarelli and other French generals. Report says that these statues will be removed.
In the picture gallery at the Luxembourg is a choice collection of pictures of the modern French school such as Guerin, David, etc. The subjects are extremely well chosen, being taken from the mythology or from ancient and modern history. I was too glad to find no crucifixions, martyrdoms, nor eternal Madonnas. I distinguished in particular the _Judgment of Brutus_ and the _Serment des Horaces et des Curiaces_. Connoisseurs find the attitudes too stiff and talk to you of the Italian school; but I prefer these; yet I had better hold my tongue on this subject, for I am told I know nothing about painting.
Poor Labedoyere[40] is sentenced to be shot by the Court Martial which tried him, and the sentence will be carried immediately into execution. His fate excites universal sympathy, and I have seen many people shed tears when talking on this subject. He certainly ought to be protected by the 12th Article of the Capitulation. The French are very uneasy; the Allies have begun to strip the Louvre and there is no talk of what the terms of peace are to be, or what is the determination of the Allies. This is a dreadful state of uncertainty for the French people and may lead to a general insurrection. The Allies continue pouring troops into France and levying contributions. “_Vae victis_” seems their motto. France is now a disarmed nation, and no French uniform is to be seen except that of the National Guard and the “Garde Royale.” France is at the mercy of her enemies and prostrate at their feet; a melancholy prospect for European liberty!
The Allies have parades and reviews two or three times a week and the Sovereigns of Russia, Austria and Prussia constantly attend; Wellington is their showman. These crowned Heads like mightily playing at soldiers; I should think His Grace must be heartily tired of them. Massacres and persecutions of the Protestants have begun to take place in the South of France, and the priests are at work again threatening with excommunication and hell the purchasers and inheritors of emigrant estates and church lands. These priests and emigrants are incorrigible. Frequent quarrels take place almost every evening in the Palais Royal between the Prussian officers and the French, particularly some of the officers from the army of the Loire. I rather suspect these latter are the aggressors. The Prussians being gorged with plunder come there to eat, drink and amuse themselves and have as little stomach for fighting as the soldier of Lucullus had after having enriched himself; but the officers of the army of the Loire are, poor fellows, in a very different predicament; they have not even been paid what is due to them, and they, having none of those nice felicities (to use an expression of Charlotte Smith’s)[41] which make life agreeable, are ready for any combat, to set their life on any cast, “to mend it, or to be rid of ‘t.” The Prussians indulge in every sort of dissipation, which they are enabled to do by the plunder which they have accumulated, and of which they have formed, I understand, a _depot_ at St Germain. They send these articles of plunder to town every day to be sold, and then divide the profits, which are sure to be spent in the Palais Royal, and other places of revel and debauchery.
They sometimes affect a fastidiousness of stomach which is quite laughable, and not at all peculiar to the Germans, who are in general blessed by nature with especial good appetites; and they spend so much money that the English officers who have not had the advantages of plunder that these Prussians have had must appear by the side of them stingy and niggardly.
I was witness one day to a whimsical scene, which will serve to give you an idea of the airs of importance these gentlemen give themselves. I was one day at Versailles and after having visited the palace and gardens I entered the Salon of a restaurateur and called for a veal cutlet and _vin ordinaire_. There was a fat Prussian Major with two or three of his companions at one of the tables, who had been making copious libations to Bacchus in Burgundy and Champaign. He heard me call for _vin ordinaire_, and whether it was to show his own magnificence I know not, but he called out to the _cafetiere_: “Madame, votre vin ordinaire est il buvable? car j’en veux donner a mon trompette, et s’il n’est pas bon, il n’en boira pas. Faites venir mon trompette.” Now I dare say in his own country this Major would not have disdained even the “schwarze Bier” of Brandenburgh.
Scarcely any quarrels, I believe, take place between the English and French, nor did I hear of any violent fracas but one. In this instance, the English officers concerned must have been sad, brutal, vulgar fellows. They, however, after behaving in a most gross insulting manner, were compelled by some Frenchmen not to eat but to drink their words, and that out of a vessel not usually employed in drinking. I shall not repeat the contemptible affair, but it furnished the subject of a caricature.
The English officers in general behave in a handsome and liberal manner, and their conduct was spoken of in high terms of encomium by very many of the French themselves. I regret however exceedingly that any of the British officers should have imbibed the low prejudices and vulgar hatred against the French, which certain people preach up in England to cover their own peculations and interested views. A young friend of mine, with whom I was one day talking on political subjects, said to me: “I cannot help agreeing with you in many things, but I am staggered when I think that your ideas and reasoning are so contrary to the ideas in which I have been brought up; so that I rather avoid entering at all on political questions.”
I do not wonder at all at this, for I recollect when I was at school at Eton, the system was to drill into the heads of the boys strong aristocratic principles and hatred of Democracy and of the French in particular; we were ordered to write themes against the French Revolution and verses of triumph over their defeats, with now and then a sly theme on the great advantage of hereditary nobility; in these verses God Almighty was to be represented as closely allied to the British Government and a _sleeping partner_ of the Administration. One of the fellows of Eton College actually told the late Mr Adam Walker, the celebrated lecturer on natural and experimental philosophy, who was accustomed to give lectures annually to the Etonians, that his visits were no longer agreeable and would be dispensed with in future; as “Philosophy had done a great deal of harm and had caused the French Revolution.”
With respect to my visit to Versailles, I was much struck with the vast size and magnificence of the buildings and with the ingenuity displayed in the arrangement of the grounds and the numerous groups of statues, grottos, aqueducts, fountains and ruins. Still it pleases me less than St Cloud, for I prefer the taste of the present day in gardening and the arrangement of ground, to the ponderous and tawdry taste of the time of Louis XIV, and I prefer St Cloud to Versailles, just as I should prefer a Grecian Nymph in the simple costume of Arcadia to a fine court lady rouged and dressed out with hoops, diamonds, and headdress of the tune of Queen Anne. Napoleon must have had an exquisite taste.
[32] Exceptions to this are, I understand, the Gallery at Florence, and the Museo Vaticano at Rome, which are both open to all and no fees allowed.
[33] Johann Wilhelm Archenholz (1743-1812), author of the _Geschichte des Siebenjaehrigen Krieges_, 1789.–ED.
[34] In February, 1781, before the declaration of war was generally known in the West Indies, Rodney’s fleet surrounded the Dutch island of Eustatius, which had become a sort of entrepot for supplying America with British goods; two hundred and fifty ships, together with several millions worth of merchandise, were seized and sold at a military auction. The plunder of Eustatius was bitterly commented upon In the British House of Commons.–Lee Richard Hildreth, _The History of the United States_, vol. III, p. 335.–ED.
[35] The name is in blank. Major Frye may have meant Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey (1762-1798), the squire of Wexford who deserted to the Irish rebels.–ED.
[36] Tasso, _Jerusalemme liberata_, canto XVI, ottava 15.–ED.
[37] For instance, a Cuirassier, a Dragoon, a Grenadier, a Tirailleur, an Artilleryman.
[38] Major G. Colclough, senior major of the 33rd Regt.–ED.
[39] Virgil, _Aen_., II. 325.–ED.
[40] La Bedoyere (Charles Huchet, Comte de) distinguished himself in several of the Napoleonic wars, in particular at Ratisbonne and Borodino. Being a colonel at Grenoble, in March, 1815, he deserted to Napoleon’s cause and was nominated by him general and _pair de France_. In July, 1815, he was arrested in Paris, tried for high treason and shot, August 19, in spite of Benj. Constant’s efforts to save him.–ED.
[41] Charlotte Smith (1749-1806), author of _Emmeline, or the Orphan of the Castle_ (1788), _Celestina_ (1792), _The Old Manor House_ (1793), etc.–ED.
CHAPTER IV
From Paris to Bruxelles–Visiting the plains of Waterloo–The Duke de Berri at Lille–Beauvais–Return to Paris–Remarks on the French theatre– Talma–Mlle Duchesnois–Mlle Georges-French alexandrine verse–The Abbe Delille–The Opera Comique.
I met with my brother-in-law and his nephew at Paris, and hearing from them that they had an intention of returning to England by the way of Bruxelles, with the idea of visiting the plains of Waterloo, I was induced to accompany them. We started on the 18th August, taking the exact route from Paris that was taken by Napoleon. Passed the first night at St Quentin; the second at a small village on the line between Mons and Charleroy in the Belgian territory. The next morning, after breakfasting at Nivelles, we proceeded to Quatre Bras and Mont St Jean. At the little cabaret called _a la belle Alliance_ we met a host of Englishmen who had been to behold the field of battle; Lacoste, the peasant who was Napoleon’s guide on the day of battle, was about to conduct them across the fields to Hougoumont. We followed them. The devastation of the place, every tree being pierced with bullets, and the whole premises being nearly burned to the ground, seemed to astonish their _weak minds_; one of them was not contented till he had measured the length and breadth of the garden and orchards.
Cuirasses, helmets, swords and various other spoils of war found on the spot, were offered for sale by some boys and eagerly bought up as relics. My brother-in-law made a purchase of a helmet, sword and cuirass, intending to hang it up in his hall. For my part I have seen, and can see no reason whatever to rejoice at this event. I fear it is pregnant with infinite mischief.
We arrived at Bruxelles on the afternoon of the 20th August and after visiting thePark, _Alee verte_ and Palace of Laeken, we proceeded the next morning on our journey to Lille.
The Duke of Berri was at Lille and a grand _fete_ was given in the evening to celebrate the second restoration of the Bourbons. Fireworks were let off, the city was brilliantly illuminated and boys (hired of course) went about the streets singing the following refrain
A bas, a bas Napoleon!
Vivent, vivent les Bourbons!
A number of beautiful women elegantly attired paraded up and down the public promenades, which are exceedingly well and tastefully laid out. This city is built with great regularity, and the streets are broad, neat, and clean. It is by far the handsomest city I have ever seen either in France or Belgium. The _Hotel de Ville_ and the theatre both are on the _Grande Place_ and are well worth seeing. Lille is renowned for its fortifications; I much wished to visit the citadel but I was not permitted. At dinner at the table d’hote at the _Hotel du Commerce_, I remarked a French officer declaiming violently against Napoleon; but I heard afterwards that he was the son of an Emigrant; the rest of the company did not seem to approve his discourse and shewed visible impatience at it.
Lille may be easily recognised at its approach from the immense quantity of wind-mills that are in the vicinity of this city, some of which are used for grinding of wheat and others for the expression of oil. A great deal of flax from whence the oil is made, grows in the country.
I left Lille on the morning of the 24th inst., with the courier for Amiens. From Amiens I took the diligence to Beauvais and on arrival there I put up under the hospitable roof of my friend Major G., of the 18th Light Dragoons, lately made Lt.-Colonel for his gallantry at Waterloo.[42] I did not want for amusement here, for the next day a _fete champetre_ was given just outside the walls of the town, and I admired the grace and tournure of the female peasantry and their good dancing. How much more creditable are these innocent and agreeable _fetes_ to the fairs and meetings in England, which are generally signalized in drunkenness! The next afternoon presented a novel sight to the inhabitants of Beauvais, it being a grand cricket match played between the officers of the 10th and 18th Dragoons. It was won by the latter, mainly owing to the superior play of Colonel G. of the 18th, who never touched a bat since he was at Burney’s school. The Officers afterwards dined _al fresco_ and many toasts accompanied by the huzzas were given, to the astonishment of the bystanders, who seemed to consider us as little better than barbarians. One of the officers wishing to pay a compliment to the inhabitants of Beauvais proposed the health of Louis XVIII, but they seemed to take it coldly and not at all to be flattered by the compliment.
After five days very agreeable residence at Beauvais, I put myself in the diligence to return to Paris. During the journey an ardent political altercation arose between a young lady, who appeared to be a warm partisan of Napoleon, on the one side, and a Garde du Corps on the other. The lady was seconded by a young gentleman, of whom it was difficult to say, whether he sustained her argument from a dislike to the present order of things, or from a wish to ingratiate himself in her favour. The argument of the Garde du Corps was espoused, but soberly, by one of the passengers who was a mathematical professor at one of the Lyceums; he was not by any means an Ultra, but he supported the Bourbons, with moderate, gentlemanly and I therefore believe sincere attachment. This professor seemed a well informed sort of man; he told me that he was acquainted with Sir James M., formerly recorder at Bombay. On our arrival at the _Bureau des Messageries_, the whole company forgot their disputes and parted good friends; and the young man who was partisan of the young lady in the political dispute took care to
inform himself of her abode in Paris.
* * * * *
Remarks on the various dramatic performances which I witnessed at Paris, with opinions on the French theatre in general.
In my ideas of dramatic works I am neither rigidly classic nor romantic, and I think both styles may be good if properly managed and the interest well kept up; in a word I am pleased with all genres _hors le genre ennuyux_,[43] and tho’ a great admirer of Shakespeare and Schiller, I am equally so of Voltaire, Racine and Corneille; I take equal delight in the pathos of the sentimental dramas of Kotzebue as in the admirable satire and _vis comica_ of the unrivalled Moliere, so that on my arrival at Paris I was not violently prejudiced either for or against the French stage, but rather pre-occupied, to use a gentler term, in its favour; and I have not been at all disappointed, for I think I can pronounce it with safety the first, perhaps the only stage in Europe.
I now mean to speak not of Operas, nor of Operas-comiques, nor of melodrames, nor of vaudevilles; all these have their respective merits; but when I speak of the French stage, I confine myself to the regular theatre of tragedy and comedy, of their classical pieces; in a word, to the dramatic performances usually given at the _Theatre Francais_.
The first piece I saw performed was _Manlius_;[44] but I was too far off from the stage to judge of the acting, and could do little more than catch the sounds. The parterre and the whole house was full. I was in the fourth tier of boxes, yet I could distinguish at intervals the finest and most prominent traits, of Talma’s acting, particularly in that scene where he upbraids his friend with having betrayed him. This he gave with uncommon energy and effect. The plot of this piece is very similar to that of _Venice preserved_.[45]
The next piece I saw represented was the _Avare_ of Moliere, which to me was one of the greatest dramatic treats I had ever witnessed. Every part was well supported. The next was _Athalie_ of Racine. Here too I was highly gratified. Mlle Georges performed the part of Athalie and gave me the perfect ideal of the haughty Queen. Her narration of the dream was given with the happiest effect, and in her attempt to conceal her uneasiness and her affected contempt of the dream in these lines:
Un songe, me devrois–je inquieter d’un songe?
she seemed in reality to labour under all the anxiety and fatigue arising from it. That fine scene between Joad and Joas was well given, and the little girl who did the part of Joas performed with a good deal of spirit. The actor who played Joad recited in a most impressive manner the advice to the young prince terminating in these lines:
Vous souvenant, mon fils, que cache sous ce lin, Comme eux vous futes pauvre et comme eux orphelin.
The interrogating scene between Athalie and Joad was given spiritedly, but the rather abrupt and uncourtierlike reply to the Queen’s remark, “Ils sont deux puissans dieux”–“Lui seul est dieu, Madame, et le votre n’est rien”– excited a laugh and I fancy never fails to do so, every time the piece is performed.
Racine has several passages in his tragedies which perhaps have rather too much _naivete_ for the dignity of the cothurnus; for instance in the answer of Agamemnon to Achille in the tragedy of _Iphigenie_:
Puisque vous le savez, pourquoi le demander?
A poet of to-day would be quizzed for a line like the above, but who dare venture to point out any defect in an author of whom Voltaire has said and with justice too, that the only criticism to be made of him (Racine) would be to write under every page: “Admirable, harmonieux, sublime!”
The costume and the decorations at the _Theatre francais_ are so strictly classical and appropriate in every respect, that it is to me a source of high delight to witness the representation of the favourite pieces of Racine, Corneille, Moliere and Voltaire, which I have so often read with so much pleasure in the closet and no small quantity of which I have by heart.
The next piece I saw was the _Cinnna_ of Corneille; and here it was that I beheld Talma for the second time. I was of course highly pleased, tho’ I was rather far off to hear very distinctly; this was, however, no very great loss, as I was perfectly well acquainted with the tragedy. Talma’s gestures, his pause’s, his natural mode of acting gave a great relief to the long declamation with which this tragedy abounds. When this tragedy was given it was during the time that poor Labedoyere’s trial was going on, and the allusions to Augustus’ clemency were eagerly seized and applauded. It was hoped that Louis XVIII would imitate Augustus. Vain hope!
I have seen _Phedre_; the part of Phedre by that admirable actress Mlle Duchesnois, who performs the part so naturally and with so much passion that we entirely forget the extreme plainness of the person. She acts with far more feeling and pathos than Mlle Georges. I shall never be able to forget Mlle Duchesnois in _Phedre_. She gave me a full idea of the impassioned Queen, nor were it possible to depict with greater fidelity the “Venus toute entiere a sa proie attachee,” as in that beautiful speech of Phedre to Oenone wherein she reveals her passion for Hippolyte and pourtrays the terrible struggle between duty and female delicacy on the one hand, and on the other a flame that could not be overcome, convinced as it were of the complete inutility of further efforts of resistance and invoking death as her only refuge. I was moved even to tears. I am so great an admirer of the whole of this speech beginning “Mon mal vient de plus lorn” etc., and ending “Un reste de chaleur tout pret a s’exhaler,” that I think in it Racine has not only united the excellencies of Euripides, Sappho and Theocritus in describing the passion of love, but has far surpassed them all; that speech is certainly the masterpiece of French versification and scarcely inferior to it is that beautiful and ingenuous confession of love by Hippolyte to Aricie. What an admirable _pendant_ to the love of Phedre! In Hippolyte you behold the innocence, simplicity and ingenuousness of a first and pure attachment: in Phedre the _embrasement_, the ungovernable delirium of a criminal passion.
I have seen Mlle Duchesnois again in the _Merope_ of Voltaire and admire her more and more. This is an admirable play. The dialogue is so spirited; the agitation of maternal tenderness, and the occasional bursts of feelings impossible to be restrained, render this play one of the most interesting perhaps on the French stage, and Mlle Duchesnois gave with the happiest effect her part in those two scenes; the first wherein she supposes Egisthe to be the person who has killed her son; in the other where having discovered the reality of his person, she is obliged to dissemble the discovery, but on Egisthe being about to be sacrificed she exclaims “Barbare, c’est mon fils!” The part of Egisthe was given by a young actor who made his appearance at this theatre for the first tune, and he executed his part with complete success (Firmin, I think, was his name). Lafond did the part of Polyphonte and did it well. At this tragedy many allusions were caught hold of by the audience according as they were Bourbonically or Napoleonically inclined; at that part of Polyphonte’s speech wherein he says:
Le premier qui fut Roi fut un soldat heureux. Qui sert bien son pays n’a pas besoin d’ayeux.
Thunders of applause proceeded from those who applied it to Napoleon. At the line:
Est il d’autre parti que celui de nos rois?
a loud shout and clapping proceeded from the Royalists; but I fancy if hands had been shown these last would have been in a sad minority. I have often amused myself with comparing the _Merope_ of Voltaire with that of Maffei and am puzzled to which to give the preference. Maffei has made Polyphonte a more odious and perhaps on that account a more theatrical character, while Voltaire’s Polyphonte is more in real life. In the play of Voltaire he is a rough brutal soldier, void of delicacy of feeling and not very scrupulous, but not that praeternatural deep designing villain that he is represented in the piece of Maffei. In fact Maffei’s Polyphonte appears too _outre_; but then on the stage may not a little exaggeration be allowed, just as statues which are destined to be placed in the open air or on columns appear with greater effect when larger than the natural size? Alfleri seems to have given the preference to the Merope of Voltaire.
I have seen Talma a second time in the part of Nero in the Britannicus of Racine; Mlle Georges played the part of Agrippina. Talma was Nero from head to foot; his very entry on the stage gave an idea of the fiery and impatient character of the tyrant, and in the scene between him and his mother Agrippina nothing could be better delineated. The forced calm of Agrippina, while reproaching her son with his ingratitude, and the impatience of Nero to get rid of such an importunate monitress, were given in a style impossible to be surpassed. Talma’s dumb show during this scene was a masterpiece of the mimic art. If Talma gives such effects to his roles in a French drama, where he is shackled by rules, how much greater would he give on the English or German stages in a tragedy of Shakespeare or Schiller!
Blank verse is certainly better adapted to tragedy than rhymed alexandrines, but then the French language does not admit of blank verse, and to write tragedies in prose, unless they be tragedies in modern life, would deprive them of all charm; but after all I find the harmonious pomp and to use a phrase of Pope’s “The long majestic march and energy divine” of the French alexandrine, very pleasing to the ear. I am sure that the French poets deserve a great deal of credit for producing such masterpieces of versification from a language, which, however elegant, is the least poetical in Europe; which allows little or no inversion, scarce any poetic license, no _enjambement_, compels a fixed caesura; has in horror the hiatus; and in fine is subject to the most rigorous rules, which can on no account be infringed; which rejects hyperbole; which is measured by syllables, the pronunciation of which is not felt in prose; compels the alternative termination of a masculine or feminine rhyme; and with all this requires more perhaps than any other language that cacophony be sedulously avoided. Such are the difficulties a French poet has to struggle with; he must unite the most harmonious sound with the finest thought. In Italian very often the natural harmony of the language and the music of the sound conceal the poverty of the thought; besides Italian poetry has innumerable licenses which make it easy to figure in the Tuscan Parnassus, and where anyone who can string together _rime_ or _versi sciolti_ is dignified with the appellation of a poet; whereas from French poetry, a mediocrity is and must be of necessity banished. Neither is it sufficient for an author to have sublime ideas; these must be filed and pruned. Inspiration can make a poet of a German, an Italian or an Englishman, because he may revel in unbounded license of metre and language, but in French poetry inspiration is by no means sufficient; severe study and constant practise are as indispensable as poetic verve to constitute a French poet. The French poets are sensible of this and on this account they prefer imitating the ancients, polishing their rough marble and fitting it to the national taste, to striking out a new path.
The Abbe Delille, the best poet of our day that France has produced, has gone further; he had read and admired the best English poets such as Milton, Pope, Collins and Goldsmith, and has not disdained to imitate them; yet he has imitated them with such elegance and judgment that he has left nothing to regret on the part of those of his countrymen who are not acquainted with English, and he has rendered their beauties with such a force that a foreigner Versed in both languages who did not previously know which was the original, and which the translation, might take up passages in Pope, Thomson, Collins and Goldsmith and read parallel passages in Delille and be extremely puzzled to distinguish the original: for none of the beauties are lost in these imitations. And yet, in preferring to imitate, it must not be inferred that he was deficient in original thoughts.
To return to the theatre, I have seen Mlle Mars in the _role_ of Henriette in the _Femmes Savantes_ of Moliere. Oh! how admirable she is! She realizes completely the conception of a graceful and elegant Frenchwoman of the first society. She does not act; she is at home as it were in her own salon, smiling at the silly pretensions of her sister and at the ridiculous pedantry of Trissotin; her refusing the kiss because she does not understand Greek was given with the greatest _naivete_. In a word Mlle Mars reigns unrivalled as the first comic actress in Europe.
I have seen too, _Les Plaideurs_ of Racine and _Les fourberies de Scapin_ of Moliere, both exceedingly well given; particularly the scene in the latter wherein it is announced to Geronte that his son had fallen into the hands of a Turkish corsair, and his answer “Que diable allait-il faire dans la galere?”
I have seen also _Andromaque_, _Iphigenie_ and _Zaire_. Mlle Volnais did the part of Andromaque; but the monotonous plaintiveness of her voice, which never changes, wearies me. In _Iphigenie_ I was more gratified; for Mlle Georges did the part of Clytemnestre, and her sister, a young girl of seventeen, made her debut in the part of Iphigenie with great effect. The two sisters supported each other wonderfully well, and Lafond did Agamemnon very respectably.
Mlle Georges the younger, having succeeded in _Iphigenie_, appeared in the part of Zaire, a bold attempt, and tho’ she did it well and with much grace, yet it was evidently too arduous a task for her. The whole onus of this affecting piece rests on the _role_ of Zaire. In the part where _naivete_ was required she succeeded perfectly and her burst: “Mais Orosmane m’aime et j’ai tout oublie” was most happy; but she was too faint and betrayed too little emotion in portraying the struggle between her love for Orosmane and the unsubdued symptoms of attachment to her father and brother and to the religion of her ancestors. In short, where much passion and pathos was required, there she proved unequal to the task; but she has evidently all the qualities and dispositions towards becoming a good actress, and with more study and practise I have no doubt that three or four years hence, she will be fully equal to the difficult task of giving effect to and portraying to life, the exquisitely touching and highly interesting _role_ of Zaire. She was not called for to appear on the stage after the termination of the performance, tho’ frequently applauded during it. The actor who did the part of Orosmane, in that scene wherein he discovers he has killed Zaire unjustly, gave a groan which had an unhappy effect; it was such an awkward one, that it made all the audience laugh; no people catch ridicule so soon as the French.
What I principally admire on the French stage is that the actors are always perfect in their parts and all the characters are well sustained; the performance never flags for a moment; and I have experienced infinitely more pleasure in beholding the dramas of Racine and Voltaire than those of Shakespeare, and for this reason that, on our stage, for one good actor you have the many who are exceedingly bad and who do not comprehend their author: you feel consequently a _hiatus valde deflendus_ when the principal actor or actress are not on the stage. I have been delighted to see Kemble, and Mrs Siddons and Miss O’Neil, and while they were on the stage I was all eyes and ears; but the other actors were always so inferior that the contrast was too obvious and it only served to make more conspicuous the flagging of interest that pervades the tragedies of Shakespeare, _Macbeth_ alone perhaps excepted. I speak only of Shakespeare’s faults as a dramaturgus and they are rather the faults of his age than his own; for in everything else I think him the greatest litterary genius that the world ever produced, and I place him far above any poet, ancient or modern; yet in allowing all this, I do not at all wonder that his dramatic pieces do not in general please foreigners and that they are disgusted with the low buffoonery, interruption of interest and want of arrangement that ought of necessity to constitute a drama; for I feel the same objections myself when reading Shakespeare, and often lose patience; but then when I come to some sublime passage, I become wrapt up in it alone and totally forget the piece itself. In order to inspire a foreigner with admiration for Shakespeare, I would not give him his plays to read entire, but I would present him with a _recueil_ of the most beautiful passages of that great poet; and I am sure he would be so delighted with them that he would readily join in the “All Hail” that the British nation awards him. Thus you may perceive the distinction I make between the creative genius who designs, and the artist who fills up the canvas; between the Poet and the Dramaturgus. I am probably singular in my taste as an Englishman, when I tell you that I prefer Shakespeare for the closet and Racine or Voltaire or Corneille for the stage: and with regard to English tragedies, I prefer as an acting drama Home’s _Douglas_[46] to any of Shakespeare’s, _Macbeth_ alone excepted; and for this plain reason that the interest in _Douglas_ never flags, nor is diverted.
In giving my mite of admiration to the French stage, I am fully aware of its faults, of the long declamation and the _fade galanterie_ that prevailed before Voltaire made the grand reform in that particular: and on this account I prefer Voltaire as a tragedian to Racine and Corneille. The _Phedre_ and _Athalie_ of Racine are certainly masterpieces, and little inferior to them are _Iphigenie, Andromaque_ and _Britannicus_, but in the others I think he must be pronounced inferior to Voltaire; as a proof of my argument I need only cite _Zaire, Alzire, Mahomet, Semiramis, l’Orphelin de la Chine, Brutus_. Voltaire has, I think, united in his dramatic writings the beauties of Corneille, Racine and Crebillon and has avoided their faults; this however is not, I believe, the opinion of the French in general, but I follow my own judgment in affairs of taste, and if anything pleases me I wait not to ascertain whether the “master hath said so.”
It shows a delicate attention on the part of the directors of the _Theatre Francais_, now that so many foreigners of all nations are here, to cause to be represented every night the masterpieces of the French classical dramatic authors, since these are pieces that every foreigner of education has read and admired; and he would much rather go to see acted a play with which he was thoroughly acquainted than a new piece of one which he has not read; for as the recitation is extremely rapid it would not be so easy for him to seize and follow it without previous reading.
Of Moliere I had already seen the _Avare_, the _Femmes savantes_ and the _Fourberies de Scapin_. Since these I have seen the _Tartuffe_ and _George Dandin_ both inimitably performed; how I enjoyed the scene of the _Pauvre homme!_ in the _Tartuffe_ and the lecture given to George Dandin by M. and Mme de Sotenville wherein they recount the virtues and merits of their respective ancestors. Of Moliere indeed there is but one opinion throughout Europe; in the comic line he bears away the palm unrivalled and here I fully agree with the “general.”
I must not quit the subject of French theatricals without speaking of the _Opera comique_ at the _Theatre Faydeau_. It is to the sort of light pieces that are given here, that the French music is peculiarly appropriate, and it is here that you seize and feel the beauty and melody of the national music; these little _chansons_, _romances_ and _ariettas_ are so pleasing to the ear that they imprint themselves durably on the memory, which is no equivocal proof of their merit. I cannot say as much for the tragic singing in the _Opera seria_ at the Grand French Opera, which to my ear sounds a perfect psalmody. There is but one language in the world for tragic recitative and that is Italian. On the other hand, in the _genre_ of the _Opera comique_, the French stage is far superior to the Italian. In the French comedy everything is graceful and natural; the Italians cannot catch this happy medium, so that their comedies and comic operas are mostly _outre_, and degenerate into downright farce and buffoonery.
[42] Major James Grant, of the 18th Light Dragoons, was made a Brevet Lieutenant Colonel on 18th June, 1815.–ED.
[43] A phrase in prose, often quoted as a verse, from Voltaire’s preface to the _Enfant Prodigue: Tous les genres sont bons, hors le genre ennuyeux_.–ED.
[44] A tragedy often acted by Talma, the work of Antoine d’Aubigny de Lafosse (1653-1708).–ED.
[45] Thomas Otway’s once celebrated tragedy, 1682.–ED.
[46] _The Tragedy of Douglas_, by John Home (1722-1808).–ED.
CHAPTER V
From Paris to Milan through Dijon, Chalon-sur-Saone, Lyons, Geneva and the Simplon–Auxerre–Dijon–Napoleon at Chalon-sur-Saone–The army of the Loire–Macon–French _grisettes_–Lyons–Monuments and theatricals– Geneva–Character and opinions of the Genevois–Voltaire’s chateau at Ferney–The chevalier Zadera–From Geneva to Milan–Crossing the Simplon–Arona–The theatres in Milan–Rossini–Monuments in Milan–Art encouraged by the French–Mr Eustace’s bigotry–Return to Switzerland– Clarens and Vevey–Lausanne–Society in Lausanne–Return to Paris–The Louvre stripped–Death of Marshal Ney.
I left Paris on the 17th Sept., in the diligence of Auxerre, The company was as follows: a young Genevois who had served in the National Guard at Paris, and had been wounded in a skirmish against the Prussians near that city; a young Irish Templar; a fat citizen of Dijon and an equally fat woman going to Dole. We arrived the following day at 11 o’clock at Auxerre, a town situated on the banks of the Seine. Water conveyance may be had from Paris to Auxerre, price 12 francs the person: the price in the diligence is 28 francs. We had during our journey much political conversation; the Bourbons and the English government were the objects of attack, and neither my friend the barrister nor myself felt the least inclined to take up their cause. The Genevois had with him Fouche’s expose of the state of the nation, wherein he complains bitterly of the conduct of the Allies. All France is now disarmed and no troops are to be seen but those in foreign uniform. The face of the country between Paris and Auxerre is not peculiarly striking; but the soil appears fertile and the road excellent. After breakfast we started from Auxerre and stopped to sup and sleep the same night at Avallon. At Semur, which we passed on the following day, there is a one arched bridge of great boldness across the river Armancon. We arrived in the evening at Dijon. The country between Auxerre and Dijon is very undulating in gentle hill and dale, but for the want of trees and inclosures it has a bleak appearance. As you leave Avallon and approach Dijon, the hills covered with vines indicate your arrival in a wine country. I put up at the _Chapeau rouge_ at Dijon and remained there one day, in order to visit the _Chartreuse_ which is at a short distance from the town and commands an extensive view. It was devastated during the Revolution. The view from it is fine and extensive and that is all that is worth notice. The country about it is rich and cultivated, and the following lines of Ariosto might serve for its description:
Culte pianure e delicati colli,
Chiare acque, ombrose ripe e prati molli.[47]
‘Mid cultivated plain, delicious hill, Moist meadow, shady bank, and crystal rill.
–_Trans_. W.S. ROSE.
The city of Dijon is large, handsome and well built. It has an appearance of industry, comfort and airiness. There are several mustard manufactories in this town. A dinner was given yesterday by the municipality to the National Guard, and an immense quantity of mustard was devoured on the occasion in honor of the staple manufactory of Dijon. From Dijon I put myself in the diligence to go to Chalon and after stopping two hours at Beaune, arrived at Chalon at 5 o’clock p.m. The country between Dijon and Chalon is flat, but cultivated like a garden. It is likewise the wine country _par excellence_. I do not know a wine more agreeable to palate than the wine of Beaune.
At Chalon I put up at the _Hotel du Parc_. Chalon is beautifully situated on the banks of the Saone. The Quai is well constructed and forms an agreeable promenade. There is an Austrian garrison in Chalon. The hostess of the inn told me that Napoleon stopped at her house on his way from Lyons to Paris, when he returned from Elba, and she related to me with great eagerness many anecdotes of that extraordinary man: she said that such was the _empressement_ on the part of the inhabitants to see him, and embrace him by way of testifying their affection, that the Emperor was obliged to say: “Mais vous m’etouffez, mes enfans!” In fact, had the army remained neutral, the peasantry alone would have carried the Emperor on their shoulders to Paris. It is quite absurd to say that a faction did this and that it was effectuated merely by the disaffection of the Army. The Army did its duty in the noblest manner, for it is the duty of every army to support the national cause and the voice of the people, and by no means to become the blind tools of the Prince; for it is absurd, as it is degrading to humanity, it is impious to consider the Prince as the proprietor of the country and the master of the people; he is, or ought to be, the principal magistrate, the principal soldier paid by the people, like any other magistrate or soldier, and like them liable to be cashiered for misconduct or breach of faith. This is not a very fashionable doctrine nowadays, and there is danger of it being forgotten altogether in the rage for what is falsely termed legitimacy; it becomes therefore the bounden duty of every friend of freedom to din this unfashionable doctrine into the ears of Princes and unceasingly to exclaim to them and to their ministers:
Discite justitiam moniti et non temnere gentes.[48]
In their conduct on this occasion the French soldiers proved themselves far more constitutional than those of any other army in Europe; let despots, priests and weak-headed Tories say what they please to the contrary.
I embarked the following morning at 12 o’clock in the _coche d’eau_ for Lyons. There was a very numerous and motley company on board: there were three bourgeois belonging to Lyons returning thither from Paris; a quiet good-humoured sort of woman not remarkable either for her beauty nor vivacity; a young Spaniard, an adherent of King Joseph Napoleon, very taciturn and wrapped up in his cloak tho’ the weather was exceeding hot; he seemed to do nothing else but smoke _cigarros_ and drink wine, of which he emptied three or four bottles in a very short time–a young Piedmontese officer, disbanded from the army of the Loire, who no sooner sat down on deck than he began to chaunt Filicaja’s beautiful sonnet, “_Italia, Italia, O tu cui feo la sorte_,” etc.–a merchant of Lyons who had been some time in England, and spoke English well–a Lyonnese Major of Infantry, also of the army of the Loire, who had served in Egypt in the 32nd Demi-brigade; three Austrian officers of Artillery with their servants. A large barge which followed and was towed by the _coche d’eau_ was filled with Austrian soldiers, and on the banks of the river were a number of soldiers of the Army of the Loire returning to their families and homes.
The peaceable demeanour and honourable conduct of this army is worthy of admiration, and can never be sufficiently praised: not a single act of brigandage has taken place. The Austrian officers expressed to me their astonishment at this, and said they doubted whether any other army in Europe, disbanded and under the same circumstances, would behave so well. I told them the French soldier was a free-man and a citizen and drawn from a respectable class of people, which was not the case in most other countries. Yes, these gallant fellows who had been calumniated by furious Ultras, by the base ministerial prints of England, and the venal satellites of Toryism, who had been represented as brigands or as infuriated Jacobins with red caps and poignards, these men, in spite, of the contumely and insult they met with from servile prefects, and from those who never dared to face them in the field, are a model of good conduct and they preserve the utmost subordination, tho’ disbanded: they respect scrupulously the property of the inhabitants and pay for everything. Mr. L., the young Irish barrister, told me at Dijon that he left his purse by mistake in a shop there in which were 20 napoleons in gold, when a soldier of the army of the Loire, who happened to be in the shop, perceived it and came running after him with it, but refused to accept of anything, tho’ much pressed by Mr. L., who wished to reward him handsomely for his disinterested conduct. Yes, the French soldier is a fine fellow. I have served against them in Holland and in Egypt and I will never flinch from rendering justice to their exemplary conduct and lofty valour. No! it is not the French soldiery who can be accused of plundering and exaction, but what brought the French name in disrepute was the conduct of certain _prefects_ and _administrators_ in Germany who were promoted to these posts for no other reason than because they were of the old _noblesse_ or returned _Emigrants_, whom Napoleon favoured in preference to the Republicans whom he feared. These emigrants repaid his favours with the basest ingratitude; after being guilty of the grossest and most infamous _concussions_ on the inhabitants of those parts of Germany where their jurisdiction extended, they had the hypocrisy after the restoration to declaim against the oppression of the _Usurper’s_ government and its system: but Napoleon richly deserved to meet with this ingratitude for employing such unprincipled fellows. I believe he was never aware of the villany they carried on, or they would have met with his severest displeasure in being removed from office, as was the case with Wirion at Verdun.[49]
I do not find that the French soldiers with whom I have conversed are so much attached to the person of the Emperor as I was led to believe; but they are attached to their country and liberty; and in serving him, they conceived they were serving the man _par excellence_ of the People.
The French army too was beloved by the people, instead of being dreaded by them as the armies of most other European nations are. In short, whenever I met with and held conversation with soldiers of this army, I was always tempted to address them in the words of Elvira to Pizarro when she seeks to console him for his defeat:
Yet think another morning shall arise, Nor fear the future, nor lament the past.[50]
The French Major was very much inclined to take up a quarrel with an Austrian officer, on my account, but I dissuaded him. The cause was as follows. A young Austrian boy, servant to one of the officers of Artillery, had entered the _coche d’eau_ at Chalon, some minutes before his master, and began to avail himself of the right of conquest by taking possession of the totality of one of the cabins and endeavouring to exclude the other passengers; among other things he was going to thrust my portmanteau out of its place. I called to him to let it alone, when the French Major stepped forward and said that if he dared to touch any of the baggage belonging to the passengers, he would punish him on the spot and his master also, for that he longed to measure swords with those “Jean F—- d’Autrichiens.” Fearful of a serious quarrel between them and being unwilling that any dispute should occur on my account, I requested the Major not to meddle with the business, for that I was sure the Austrian officer would check the impertinence of his servant when he came on board; and that if he did not, I was perfectly able and willing to defend my own cause. The Austrian officers came on board a few minutes after, when I addressed them in German, and explained to them the behaviour of the boy; they scolded him severely for his impertinence to us and threatened him with the _Schlag_, should it occur again. The rest of the journey passed without any incident. I found that my friend the Major had served in the French army in Egypt in the division Lanusse in the battle of the 21st March, 1801, (30 Ventose) and that consequently we were opposed to each other in that battle, as I was then serving as a Lieutenant in the Queen’s Regiment, commanded by that excellent and amiable officer the Earl of D[alhousie] in General Doyle’s brigade.
The voyage on the Saone presents some pleasing and picturesque points of view; the _coteaux_ on the banks of the river are covered with vines. We arrived at 8 o’clock in the evening to sup and sleep at Macon and put up at the _Hotel des Sauvages_. We had a most sumptuous repast, fish, flesh, fowls, game, fruit and wine in profusion, for all which, including our beds, we had only to pay 2-1/2 francs the person.
There is a spacious Quai at Macon, which always adds to the beauty of a city, and there are some fine buildings, public and private. I need not enlarge on the excellence of the Macon wine. The country girls we observed on the banks of the river as we floated along, and the _grisettes_ of the town who were promenading on the Quai when we arrived, wore a peculiarly elegant _costume_ and their headdress appeared to me to be something Asiatic.
The voyage on the subsequent day was more agreeable than the preceding one. The country between Macon and Lyons is much more beautiful and diversified than that which we have hitherto seen and resembles much the picturesque scenery of the West-Indian landscape. One part between Macon and Trevoux resembles exactly the island of Montserrat.
Within two miles of Trevoux we were hailed by some _grisettes_ belonging to the inns at that place, in order to invite us to dine at their respective inns. There was one girl exceedingly beautiful whose name was Sophie, daughter of the proprietor of the _Hotel des Sauvages_ at Trevoux. She, by her grace and coquetry, obtained the most recruits and when we disembarked from the boat, she led us in triumph to her hotel. From her beauty and graceful manner, Sophie, in a country where so much hommage is paid to beauty, must be a most valuable acquisition to the interests of the inn, and tho’ she smiles on all, she takes care not to make herself cheap, and like Corisca in the _Pastor Fido_ she holds put hopes which she does not at all intend to gratify. After passing by the superb scenery on the banks of the river (which increases in interest as you approach Lyons), the _Isle Barbe_ and _la Tour de la belle Allemande_, we arrived at Lyons at 5 p.m. and debarked on the _Quai de la Saone_. A _fiacre_ took me up and deposited me safe at the _Hotel du Nord_ situated on the _Place St Claire_ and not many yards distant of the _Quai du Rhone_.
LYONS, 26th Sept.
Lyons is situated on a tongue of land at the junction of the Saone and Rhone, and there is a fine bridge on the spot where the streams unite, called _le pont du Confluent_, which joins the extremity of the tongue of land with the right bank of the Saone. There is besides a large bridge across the Rhone, higher up, before it joins the Saone, leading in a right line from the _Hotel de Ville_; and two other bridges across the Saone. The _Quai du Rhone_ is by far the finest and most agreeable part of the city. It is spacious, well paved, aligned with trees, and boast the finest edifices public and private in the whole city; it is the favourite promenade of the _beaux_ and _belles_ of Lyons. The sight of the broad and majestic Rhone itself is a grand object, and on a fine day the prospect is augmented by the distant view of the fleecy head of Mont Blanc. On this Quai and within a 100 yards of the bridge on the Rhone are the justly celebrated _bains du Rhone_, fitted up in a style of elegance even superior to those called _les Bains Vigier_ on the Seine at Paris. The grand Hospital is also on the Quai; the facade is beautiful; its architecture is of the Ionic order and the building itself as well as its interior economy has frequently elicited the admiration of travellers. Among the Places in this city the finest is that of Bellecour.
The scenery is extremely diversified in the environs of Lyons, and in the city there is great appearance of wealth and splendour. Lyons flourished greatly during the time of the continental blockade, as it was the central depot of the commerce between France and Italy. Napoleon is much respected and regretted here, and with reason, as he was a great benefactor to this city. The Lyonnese are too frank, too open in their sentiments and too grateful not to render justice to his great talents and good qualities, while they blame and deplore his ambition. In fact an experience of a few days and some acquaintance I made here has given me a very favourable impression of the inhabitants of this city. The men are frank in their manners, polite, well informed, and free from all frivolity. The women are in general handsome, well shaped, and have much grace and are exceedingly well educated; they seem totally free from the _Petite-maitressism_ of the Parisian women, and both sexes seem to possess a good deal of what the French term _caractere_. Had the Parisians resembled the Lyonnese, Paris would never have fallen twice into the hands of the enemy, nor would the Lyonnese women have welcomed the entry of the invaders into their city with waving handkerchiefs, etc. These qualities of the inhabitants, the beauty of the country, and the cheapness of all the comforts and luxuries of life, would make Lyons one of the most agreeable places of residence to a foreigner of liberal sentiments and principles.
Cloth and silk are the staple manufactures of Lyons, particularly the latter; I accompanied my friend Mr M—- to see his fabrique of silk which is of considerable extent and importance, and everything appeared to me, as far as one totally ignorant of the business and its process could judge, admirably regulated and rapid in its execution. The _tournure_ of the _grisettes_ of Lyons is very striking and they possess completely the _grata protervitas_, the _vultus nimium lubricus aspici_ which Horace so much admires in Glycera.
I visited both the theatres here, viz.: the _Grand Theatre_, situated near the _Hotel de Ville_, and the smaller one called the _Theatre des Celestins_. At the former was some good dancing, and at the latter I was engaged in a conversation which I cannot forbear citing as it will serve to show the dislike the people have to the feudal system and the dread they have of its re-establishment, tho’ they can know nothing about it except by tradition. The piece performed was called _Le petit Poucet_ (Tom Thumb and the Ogre); but I missed my old acquaintance the Ogre and his seven-league boots of Mother Goose, and found that in this melodrama he was transformed into a tyrannical and capricious _Seigneur Feodal_. There was a very pretty young lady about 16 years of age accompanied by her father in the same box with me, and I observed to her, “Ou est donc l’Ogre? il parait que l’on en a fait un Seigneur feodal.” “Oui, monsieur (she replied), et avec raison, car ils etaient bien les Ogres de ce temps la.” I entered into a long conversation with my fair neighbour and found her well informed and well educated, with great good sense and knowledge of the world far beyond her years. She told me that she had begun to study English and that her father was a miniature painter. I took leave of her not without feeling much affected and my heart not a little “percosso dall’ amoroso strale.”
I must not forget to mention that there is a most spacious and magnificent building on the _Quai du Rhone_ to the North of the bridge, which serves as a cafe and ridotto or assembly room for balls, etc. I am afraid to say how many feet it has in length; but it is the most superb establishment of the kind I have ever met with.
Fortunately for the city of Lyons, the famous decree of Robespierre for its destruction, and the column with the inscription, “Lyon a porte les armes contre la liberte; Lyon n’est plus,” which was to occupy its place, was never put in execution and tho’ this city suffered much from revolutionary vandalism yet it soon recovered and has flourished ever since in a manner unheard of at any former period. No people are more sensible than the Lyonnese of the great benefits produced by the Revolution, and no people more deprecate a return to the _ancien regime_.
Oct. 2nd, GENEVA.
I started in the diligence for Geneva on the 28th Sept. and found it exceedingly cold on ascending the mountain called the _Cerdon_; the scenery is savage and wild, and the road in many parts is on the brink of precipices. We stopped at Nantua for supper and partook of some excellent trout. There is a large lake near the town, and ’tis here that the Swiss landscape begins. Commanding a narrow pass stands the fort of L’Ecluse. The Austrians lost a great many men in attempting to force it. From this place you have a noble view of the Alps and Mont-Blanc towering above them. As this was the first time I beheld these celebrated mountains I was transported with delight and my mind was filled with a thousand classical and historical recollections! The scenery, the whole way from Fort l’Ecluse to Geneva, is most magnificent and uncommonly varied. Mountain and valley, winter and summer, on the same territory. Descending, the city of Geneva opens gradually; you behold the lake Leman and the Rhone issuing from it. We entered the city, which is fortified, and after crossing the double bridge across the Rhone, we arrived at the _Hotel de l’Eau de Geneve_ at 12 o’clock. The most striking thing in the city of Geneva to the traveller’s eye as he enters it, is the view of the arcades on each side of the street, excellent for pedestrians and for protection against sun and rain, but which give a heavy and gloomy appearance to the city. An immense number of watch-makers is another distinguishing feature in this city. The first thing shewn to me by my _valet de place_ was the house where Jean Jacques Rousseau was born; I then desired him to shew me the spot where that barbarian Calvin caused to be burnt the unhappy Servetus for not having the same religious opinions as himself.
The most agreeable promenades of the city are on the bastions and ramparts, a place called _La Treille_ and a garden or park of small extent called _Plain Palais_. In this park stands on a column the bust of J.J. Rousseau. This park was the scene of a great deal of bloodshed in 1791 on account of political disputes between the aristocratic and democratic parties, or rather between the admirers and imitators of the French Revolution and those who dreaded such innovations. This affair excited so much horror, and the recollection of it operated so powerfully on the imagination of the inhabitants, that the place became entirely abandoned as a public promenade, and avoided as a polluted spot for many years. Very likely however a sort of lustration has taken place; an oration was pronounced and the place again declared worthy of contributing to the recreation of the inhabitants. It is now become the favourite promenade of the citizens of Geneva, tho’ there are still some who cannot get over their old prejudices and never set their foot in it. There is likewise a pleasant walk as far as the town of Carrouge in Savoy, which town has been lately ceded by the King of Sardinia to the republic of Geneva. In Geneva the sentiments of the inhabitants do not seem to be favourable either to the French Revolution, or to Napoleon. Their political ideas accord very much with those professed by the government party in England, and they make a great parade of them just now, as a means of courting the favour of England and of the Allied Sovereigns. The government here have shewn a great disposition to second the views of the Allied Powers in persecuting those Frenchmen who have been proscribed by the Bourbon government.
This state lost its independence during the revolutionary wars and was incorporated with France. As the citizens were suspected of being more favourable to the English than suited the policy of the French government of that time, they were viewed with a jealous eye and I believe some individuals were harshly treated; but what most vexed and displeased them was the enforcement of the conscription among them, for the Genevois do not