{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37344/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37344","id":"gutenberg_37344","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37344","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - European","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Travel Writing","France -- Description and travel"],"text":"FOUR YEARS IN FRANCE;\n\n OR,\n\n NARRATIVE\n OF AN\n ENGLISH FAMILY'S RESIDENCE THERE\n DURING THAT PERIOD;\n PRECEDED BY SOME ACCOUNT OF\n THE CONVERSION OF THE AUTHOR\n TO THE CATHOLIC FAITH.\n\n * * * * *\n\nRien n'est beau que LE VRAI.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLONDON:\n\nHENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.\n\n * * * * *\n\n1826.\n\n\nPrinted by A. J. Valpy, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n Page\n\nSOME ACCOUNT OF THE CONVERSION OF THE AUTHOR TO THE CATHOLIC FAITH, IN\n1798.\n\n The author's father and grandfather, prebendaries of\n Lincoln.--The Cathedral service described.--The service in\n Magdalen College Chapel at Oxford.--The author's mother and his\n maternal ancestry.--November 5th.--School at which the author\n studies.--Mrs. Ravenscroft, a Catholic neighbour.--Dr.\n Geddes.--The author matriculates at Oxford.--The Tale of a Tub,\n its speciousness.--The Douay Translation of the New\n Testament.--Advice of a schoolmaster.--Gibbon the\n Historian.--Defence of the Reformed Church.--Argument derived\n from the exclusive antiquity of the Roman Catholic Church.--The\n Kirk of Scotland denies that it can be in the wrong, as\n strenuously as the Church of England\n does.--Infallibility.--Richard Paget.--Archbishop Laud.--The\n author takes the degree of Master of Arts.--In Deacon's orders:\n he fills a curacy in Lincoln.--Becomes a fellow of his\n college.--He resides on his fellowship.--His probationary\n exercise.--His sermon at St. Mary's Church, Oxford.--Its\n success.--He preaches against non-residence.--Decease of his\n mother.--The author resigns his fellowship, and removes to\n Lincoln.--The Bampton lecture.--Dr. Routh.--M. l'Abbe Beaumont,\n an emigrant priest at Lincoln.--A disputation.--Catholic\n arguments which impress the author's imagination.--Nicole and\n Arnaud.--Bossuet.--Ward's errata.--Of the sacraments.--Of\n purgatory.--Chillingworth.--Of abstinence.--The author\n convinced, after investigation, of the genuineness of the Roman\n Catholic doctrines, visits London.--He attends high mass.--His\n conversation with Dr. Douglas, the R. C. metropolitan\n bishop.--Rev. Mr. Hodgson appointed to be his priest and\n confessor.--His conversion completed.--The author baptised.--The\n author's apology to the Protestants, on account of his having\n been in holy orders of the Established Church.--He receives\n confirmation in the chapel of Virginia-street.--The author's\n idea that the Roman Catholic worship should be by law the\n established religion in Ireland.--Anecdote of Archdeacon Paley;\n who declared that he considered such a concession to the Irish\n nation expedient. 3\n\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n Spirit of adventure of the English.--English\n fox-hunters.--Money spent abroad.--Migration through France and\n Switzerland into Italy.--Return.--The English associate\n together.--In what consist their reasons for foreign\n residence.--Distrust with respect to Napoleon.--Gallery of the\n Louvre.--Its dispersion.--Exaggeration of the number of English\n absentees.--The foreign notions of our motives for\n travelling.--Reflections on international intercourse.--Nature\n of the author's observations gleaned during a long residence\n abroad.--Remarks on the character of the French revolution.--Its\n effects.--Elevation of Napoleon.--Great results that have\n accrued from the French revolution in the West Indies, in South\n America; and that may possibly take place in Africa. 75\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n The author repairs with his two sons to Southampton.--They set\n sail for Havre de Grace.--Gale of wind.--Fecamp in\n sight.--Continue their course for Havre.--Land after a long\n passage.--The routes from London to Paris compared.--Port\n regulations.--The English Hotel.--Hotel de la Ville du\n Havre.--Damp sheets, how aired.--Strong\n coffee.--Mass.--Douanier.--Extortion by porters.--Imposition\n respecting passports.--Ill-breeding of certain\n parrots.--Commissaire de Police.--Embouchure of the\n Seine.--Legend and statue of St. Denis.--Inquiring\n peasant-boy.--French exactness.--The Rogation days.--Insolence\n of vulgar assistants in travelling abroad.--Commodious\n diligence.--Normandy.--Norman predilection.--Petition in\n verse.--The king of Yvetot.--Rouen.--Magny.--Abstinence,\n variously understood, and how practised.--Road along the banks\n of the Seine.--Village of St. Clair.--Pontoise.--Arrival at\n Paris.--Rate of travelling.--Lodge in the Rue de la Chaussee\n d'Antin. 92\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n Description of Paris.--Place Louis XV.--Palais\n Bourbon.--Triumphal arch of Neuilly.--Champs Elysees.--The\n Louvre.--Its gallery of paintings, and museum.--Excellent\n arrangement of the statues.--The Italian school.--Progress of\n the French school of painting.--The Jardin des Plantes.--Museum\n of Natural History.--Menagerie.--Manners of the\n Bourgeois.--Palais du Luxembourg.--King's library.--New\n structure at the Place du Carousel.--Pont Neuf.--Eglise de\n Notre Dame.--Ste. Genevieve.--Sepulture in that church.--Church\n of St. Sulpice.--Dome of the _Invalides_.--The Halle aux\n Bleds.--Pillar of the Place Vendome.--Young Napoleon.--Duc de\n Bordeaux.--Preponderance of Russia.--History of the \"Victoires\n et Conquetes, &c.\"--Model of the elephant, designed for the\n Place de la Bastille.--Le Marais.--Agreeableness of the\n Boulevards.--Great advantage of _quais_.--Hotel Dieu.--La\n Morgue.--Manufactory of the Gobelins.--Le Palais Royal. 118\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n Cemetery of Pere la Chaise.--Graves there become a\n property.--Reflections respecting church-yards.--Computation of\n deaths, and room requisite for graves.--The Catacombs.--Arrival\n at Paris of the author's family.--Palace of Versailles\n described.--Royal chapel.--Anecdote of a mandarin.--Orange\n trees.--The gardens.--The Grand and Petit Trianon.--St.\n Germains.--Its terrace.--St. Cloud.--Its park.--Remark of George\n III.--Malmaison.--Marly.--Fine prospect.--Stability of the\n peace.--Meudon.--The Dauphiness (Duchesse\n d'Angouleme).--Manufacture of porcelain.--St. Denis.--The abbey\n of St. Denis.--Sceaux, popular festivities here.--Castle of\n Vincennes.--Duc d'Enghien.--Ancient oak.--Confluence of the\n Seine and the Marne.--The author attends mass in the Royal\n Chapel at the Tuilleries. 141\n\n\nCHAP. V.\n\n Celebrated statues.--Various political opinions\n detailed.--Bargaining.--Two prices.--English travellers reputed\n to be very rich.--Parties.--The military.--Spoliation of the\n clergy.--Ambition of Bonaparte.--Prudence of Louis\n XVIII.--Increase of Paris.--Explanation of 'a la\n lanterne.'--Observations on the main streets of Paris.--High\n rents.--The Fauxbourg St. Germain.--The allied armies evacuate\n France. 168\n\n\nCHAP. VI.\n\n Inventory of a furnished apartment.--The pane of glass.--The\n author quits Paris.--Voiturier.--Berline with three\n horses.--Travelling arrangements.--Agreement for stipulated\n sums.--Comparison betwixt travelling by a voiture, thus agreed\n for, and travelling post.--Louis the coachman.--Sup at Essonne. 184\n\n\nCHAP. VII.\n\n The family of Fitz-James, settled at Essonne.--Description of\n Fontainebleau.--The Forest.--The King's bed.--The\n garden.--Marechal de Coigny.--Tomb of a Dauphin at\n Sens.--Auxerre.--Banks of the Yonne.--Use of the\n hot-bath.--Cleanliness of the French.--Hilly country.--Vintages\n injured by the cold of 1816.--The coopers in activity.--The\n Plain of the Saone.--Coche d'eau.--Tournus.--Image of the\n Virgin.--Arrival at Lyons.--Fete de St. Louis.--The\n Cathedral.--Place Bellecour.--Cathedral at Vienne.--The\n Isere.--Valence.--Memoranda discovered at the 'Grand Monarque'\n Inn.--Country of the olive.--Flat roofs.--Bad inns.--Triumphal\n arch at Orange. 193\n\n\nCHAP. VIII.\n\n The entrance into Avignon.--The Place de la Comedie.--Warm\n baths.--Expense of the journey from Paris to Avignon.--A\n _negociant_ serves for a banker.--The Duke of Gloucester passes\n through Avignon.--Imprisonment of the hostess.--M.\n Moulin.--Visit paid by the author to the Prefect.--Also to the\n Mayor; an old noble.--His confiscated house repurchased.--The\n author inspects various houses.--Conditions of\n tenure.--Description of the house which he takes.--He furnishes\n it.--Observations on French trades-people. 210\n\n\nCHAP. IX.\n\n Description of Avignon.--The city walls.--Closing of the\n gates.--Inconvenience of this custom.--Public walk near the\n Rhone.--Tolls of the bridge.--Building of the bridge over the\n Rhone.--St. Benezet.--Of miracles.--Inundations.--The Rock of\n Avignon.--Palace of the Popes.--Cathedral.--The Glaciere\n Tower.--Horrid history relating to it.--Avignon participated in\n the calamities of the revolution.--Conduct of the\n vice-legate.--Department of Vaucluse, of what it consists.--View\n from the summit of the Rock.--Chateau and town of\n Villeneuve.--Impressions left by the proscriptions and\n confiscations.--Rue Calade.--Public\n Library.--Museum.--Infirmary.--Jesuits' College.--Stone of\n which the palace and the city walls were built. 219\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\n English families.--The Pretender.--Further account of the\n Revolution.--The revolutionary tribunal.--Condemnation of a\n mother and son.--Present state of society at Avignon.--Fetes and\n card parties.--The author's tea-parties and dinners.--Contrast\n betwixt French and English cookery.--Mode of\n invitation.--Balls.--_Etiquette_ of the town.--Difficulty of\n acquiring a thorough knowledge of the French language. 230\n\n\nCHAP. XI.\n\n Education.--Drawing-master.--Other private teachers.--Climate of\n England and of Avignon compared.--Degree of heat.--The _bise_ or\n north-wind.--Rent.--Society.--Avignon inhabited by provincial\n gentry.--Number of French nobility.--Mode of letting farms.--On\n what tenure and for what consideration.--Excellent wines of the\n Rhone and of Provence.--On the duties upon French wines in\n England.--The author sets the example of burning coals at\n Avignon.--Dearness of fire-wood.--Domestic economy in\n France.--Comparison of expenses in the two countries.--Amount of\n savings.--The author's advice on this head is the result of\n experience. 245\n\n\nCHAP. XII.\n\n Remains of antiquity at Avignon, Nismes, St. Remy, and\n Arles.--Visit to Vaucluse.--Cavern of the Sources.--Dinner at\n Lisle.--_Henry Kenelm_, elder son of the author.--His\n birth.--Educated at Stoneyhurst in Lancashire.--The regulations\n and course of studies at that college.--He accompanies the\n author to the continent.--His scruples.--Observations on the\n study of the learned languages and of French. 263\n\n\nCHAP. XIII.\n\n Excursion to the Pont du Gard.--The author meets with an Irish\n officer in the French service.--The stately aqueduct\n described.--Arrival at Nismes.--The Maison Quarree.--Its\n surprising beauty.--The amphitheatre of Nismes.--Temple of\n Diana.--The Tour Magne.--Frejus.--Remarks on the neighbouring\n coast.--The Protestants of Nismes.--Supper and a political\n discussion at the inn (_The Louvre_) at Nismes.--Affray between\n the Catholics and Protestants soon after the restoration. 289\n\n\nCHAP. XIV.\n\n Executions at present uncommon.--Mission preached at\n Avignon.--An account of the Missionnaires.--An old French\n officer.--The author makes acquaintance with the grandson of the\n President de Montesquieu.--Election of a deputy.--Henry Kenelm\n visits England.--On theatres and comedians.--The author's son\n returns to Avignon.--His journey detailed.--He copies an Infant\n Jesus after Raphael.--Fine season.--Ice required at a\n ball.--Olives.--Artificial grasses.--Haricots.--The French\n agriculture described.--Vines.--Silk-worms.--Mulberry trees\n stripped of their leaves.--Threshing-floors.--_Abattoir_ for\n slaughtering cattle. 301\n\n\nCHAP. XV.\n\n Intended journey to Italy.--Character and studies of _Henry\n Kenelm_.--He resolves on the military profession.--Fair of\n Beaucaire.--Visit to Arles.--Ancient buildings.--St.\n Remy.--Cross the Durance.--Deficiency of gooseberries,\n strawberries, &c.--Cherries.--Mausoleum.--Triumphal arch.--Biere\n de Mars.--Maison des Fous.--Return to Avignon. 326\n\n\nCHAP. XVI.\n\n Joute d'eau on the Rhone.--_Henry Kenelm_ is seized with\n fever.--The disorder at first is mistaken by the physician, who\n afterwards perseveres in a wrong treatment although he discovers\n it to be the typhus fever.--Symptoms.--Delirium.--The author's\n second son falls sick, and is neglected by Roche the physician. 339\n\n\nCHAP. XVII.\n\n M. Guerard, an old physician, is called in, and countenances M.\n Roche in his deception.--Guerard's neglect.--The author is\n farther deceived, and the secret kept from him.--Result of this\n ill-conduct.--M. Breugne, another medical man. 352\n\n\nCHAP. XVIII.\n\n M. Breugne, on visiting the patients, declares the truth.--He\n gives hope only of the younger brother.--The sacrament of\n extreme unction administered to Kenelm.--His piety.--His\n decease.--Visits of condolence.--The funeral.--His\n monument.--Resemblance which an antique bust has to the deceased\n youth.--Consolation.--Affecting vision, luminous, and similar to\n others on record.--Arguments and doctrine relating thereunto. 365\n\n\nCHAP. XIX.\n\n M. Breugne detains the author in conversation until the funeral\n has quitted the house.--Zeal of M. Breugne for the recovery of\n the remaining patient.--Moment of anxiety.--Success of M.\n Breugne's treatment.--Convalescence.--Care in the administering\n diet, as well as medicines.--The author engages a voiture for\n his projected journey.--Passports. 382\n\n\nCHAP. XX.\n\n The author narrates the circumstances of a dream, which coincide\n with his subsequent history.--St. Clair.--The author's\n sentiments.--His idea of a rule or mode of living. 394\n\n\nCHAP. XXI.\n\n The author and his family quit Avignon.--Antoine accompanies\n them.--His history.--Orgon.--Aix.--The baths described.--Arrival\n at Marseilles.--The Hotel de Ville.--Curiosities.--Bad\n inns.--Romantic approach to Toulon.--Description of that fine\n sea-port.--The Mediterranean.--Hyeres.--Frejus.--The Foret\n d'Estrelles.--Danger of being overturned in crossing a\n river.--Arrival at Cannes. 403\n\n\nCHAP. XXII.\n\n Journey to Nice continued.--Antoine's amusing account of the\n Rhone.--Spot on which Napoleon landed from Elba.--Antibes.--The\n river Var is the limit of France on this\n route.--Douanier.--Passage of the wooden bridge.--Nice.--Quarter\n of La Croix de Marbre.--The author rents a house.--His landlord\n is a French general.--Account of this officer.--Carnival. 420\n\n\nCHAP. XXIII.\n\n Description of Nice.--Place Victor.--The Corso and\n Terrace.--Details of the Carnival.--Franciscan\n friars.--Devotional exercises.--Stations for their observance\n during Lent.--The orange tree.--Its blossoms.--Its\n fruit.--English Protestants build a chapel at Nice.--The port of\n Nice.--Villefranche.--Galley slaves.--The cathedral.--Marshal\n Massena.--The author departs for the Col de Tende on his way to\n Italy. 432\n\n * * * * *\n\nSOME ACCOUNT\n\nOF THE\n\nCONVERSION OF THE AUTHOR\n\nTO THE\n\nCATHOLIC FAITH,\n\nIN 1798.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\nSOME ACCOUNT, &c. &c.\n\n\nEight and twenty years ago, when I became a catholic, I was told that I\nowed it, both to those whom I had joined, and to those whom I had\nquitted, to publish something in defence of the step I had taken. I\nanswered, that the former had better apologists, and the latter better\ninstructors than myself. My advisers were protestants, who, having thus\ndefied any arguments I might by possibility adduce against them, were\ncontented with my refusal of the challenge.\n\nEven at this day I consider as utterly superfluous a serious refutation\nof protestantism, or a laboured vindication of the catholic faith, and,\nby consequence, of my conversion to it. Some account of this change in\nmy opinions is prefixed to the book now offered to the public, in the\nhope of removing the prejudices with which the book may be read, or,\nwhat would be still worse, through which it may not be read at all. It\nis not my intention to enter into controversy, but merely to state how\nthe thing happened that I _turned papist_ at the moment when the pope\nwas a prisoner at Valence, when Rome was in possession of the French\narmies, and all around me cried out \"Babylon is fallen.\"\n\nI must first ask pardon of the Anglican clergy, for having engaged in\nthe service of their church so lightly and unadvisedly. If I am blamed\nonly by those who have taken, on this matter, better pains than myself\nto be well informed, I shall not be overwhelmed by the number of my\ncensurers; for the solidity of the ground of the Reformation is usually\ntaken for granted: _popery_ is exploded.\n\nIndeed, I have found the clergy of the establishment to be the most\ntolerant and moderate of my opponents. Some of them expressed their\nregret, some smiled, but most of them respected my motives, and none\nwere angry. The Bishop, now of Winchester, approved of my acting\naccording to the dictates of my conscience; said that my conduct was\nevidently disinterested; expressing only his surprise, that a man of\nsense, as he was pleased to say he understood me to be, should be so\nconvinced. Such was the purport of his lordship's observations, which\nwas, as probably it was intended, repeated to me. His brother, Precentor\nof Lincoln, continued still to be my very good friend and neighbour.\n\nA few years later, the ex-governor of ---- said, in speaking of me,--\"I\nknew his father well; a very worthy man: but this young man, they tell\nme, has taken an odd turn; but I will return his visit when I get out\nagain.\" He did not, however, get out again: he had been ill for some\ndays; feeling himself dying, he called for a glass of wine and water,\ndrank it off, returned the glass to his servant, shook the man by the\nhand, and saying kindly, \"Good b'ye, John!\" threw himself back in his\nbed and expired, at the age of more than fourscore years. Here was no\n_odd turn_; the coolness with which his excellency met the grim king,\nwas generally admired. But I am making a long Preface to a short Work; I\nmust begin with my infancy, for reasons which the story of that infancy\nwill explain.\n\nI was born on the 21st October, 1768. My father was prebendary of the\ncathedral church of Lincoln, as his father had been before him. My\ngrandfather's prebend was a very good, or, as they say, a very fat one;\nmy father's prebend was but a lean one, but he had sense enough to be a\ndoctor in divinity, whereas my grandfather had sense enough not to be a\ndoctor in divinity. They both rest behind the high altar of the\ncathedral with their wives.\n\nSo accustomed are we to a married clergy, that we are not at all\nsurprised to see them, during life, with their wives and children; and\nin death it is perfectly decent that the husband and wife should repose\ntogether. All this is natural and in order, to those who are used to it.\nBut the feeling of catholics on this subject is very different. The\nstory of the poor seminarist of Douay, in the 17th century, is an\ninstance: he went to England on a visit to his friends; on his return to\nthe seminary, he was asked \"Quid vidisti?\" He mentioned what had most\nexcited his astonishment: \"Vidi episcopos, et episcopas, et\nepiscopatulos.\" A French emigrant priest entered my house one day,\nbursting with laughter: \"Why do you laugh, M. l'Abbe?\" said I.--\"I have\njust met the Rev. Mr. ---- with the first volume of his theological\nworks in his arms.\"--\"What is there to laugh at in that?\"--\"He was\ncarrying the eldest of his children,\"--\"La coutume fait tout,\" said I:\n\"you see the Rev. Mr. ---- is not ashamed.\" Marriage is allowed to the\npriests, though not to the bishops of the Greek church. I think the\ncatholic discipline is the best. The merriment of M. l'Abbe was excited,\nI am inclined to believe, not so much by a sense of the incongruous and\nridiculous in the very natural scene he had just before witnessed, as by\nhis own joke--\"le premier tome de ses oeuvres theologiques.\"\n\nMy father's house, in which I was born, was so near the cathedral, that\nmy grandmother, good woman! when confined to her chamber by illness, was\nwont, with her Anglican translation of the Bible, and Book of Common\nPrayer on the table, before her, to go through the service along with\nthe choir, by the help of the chant and of the organ, which she heard\nvery plainly. From my earliest years, my mother took me regularly every\nSunday to the cathedral service, in which there is some degree of pomp\nand solemnity. The table at the east end of the church is covered with a\ncloth of red velvet: on it are placed two large candlesticks, the\ncandles in which are lighted at _even-song_ from Martinmas to Candlemas,\nand the choir is illumined by a sufficient number of wax tapers. The\nlitanies are not said by the minister in his desk, but chanted in the\nmiddle of the choir, from what I have since learned to call a\n_prie-Dieu_. The prebendary in residence walks from his seat, preceded\nby beadles, and followed by a vicar or minor canon, and proceeds to the\naltar; the choir, during this sort of processional march, chanting the\n_Sanctus_. This being finished, and the prebendary arrived at the altar,\nhe reads the first part of the Communion Service, including the Ten\nCommandments, with the humble responses of the choir; he then intones\nthe Nicene Creed, during the music of which he returns to his seat with\nthe same state as before. Here are _disjectoe membra ecclesioe_: no\nwonder that the puritans of Charles the First's time called for a\n\"godly, thorough reformation.\" At _even-song_, instead of the Antiphon\nto the Blessed Virgin, which is, of course, rejected, though the\nMagnificat is retained, with its astonishingly-fulfilled prophecy of the\ncarpenter's wife, \"all generations shall call me blessed;\" at vespers\nwas sung an anthem, generally of the composition of Purcell, Aldrich,\nArne, or of some of the composers of the best school of English music.\n\nRemoved afterwards to St. Mary Magdalen College, Oxford, I found, in a\nsmaller space, the same ceremonial; nay, the president even bowed to the\naltar on leaving the chapel, without any dread lest the picture of\nChrist bearing the Cross, by Ludovico Caracci, should convict him of\nidolatry. Here we all turned towards the altar during the recital of the\nCreed; at Lincoln this point of etiquette was rather disputed among the\ncongregation: my mother always insisted on my complying with it; I\nlearned to have a great respect for the altar. Whence this tendency of\nmy mother's religious opinions or feelings was derived, is now to be\ntold.\n\nShe was daughter of Kenelm Digby, Esq. of North Luffenham, in the county\nof Rutland. A younger brother of this ancient family, in the reign of\nEdward IV. became the progenitor of this branch, which, illustrated by\nthe names and the fame of Sir Everard and Sir Kenelm Digby, adhered to\nthe religion of our forefathers down to the time of my maternal\ngrandfather: he was the first protestant of his family: he had married a\nprotestant: he died while my mother was very young, but she was able to\nremember his leading her one day to the private burial vault, which had\nbeen, at the Reformation, consecrated for the use of the family in a\nretired part of the garden, and in which he was soon after deposited\nhimself. His abjuration does not seem to have carried with it that of\nall his relations, at least not immediately or notoriously; for, on the\napproach of Prince Charles Edward, in 1745, when my mother was about\ntwelve years old, the horses and arms of the family were provisionally\ntaken from them, as being suspected papists: a precaution not\nunreasonable if their wishes were considered; for the children, as my\nmother told me, ran about the house, singing Jacobite songs, among which\nthe following may vie, in poetical merit, though not in political\neffect, with the memorable Lilleburlero:\n\n As I was a walking through James's Park,\n I met an old man in a turnip cart;\n I took up a turnip, and knocked him down,\n And bid him surrender King James's crown.\n\nIt is eighty years since: twenty years since the publication of Waverly.\nThe cultivation of turnips, by which our agriculture has been so much\nimproved, was introduced from Hanover.\n\nI am much inclined to doubt the fact of my grandfather's having\nrenounced the _errors of popery_: his interment in the sepulchre of his\nancestors, the suspicion attached to his family, as above stated, the\nadvantage from the supposition of the fact to those who wished to\neducate his children in protestantism,--these are my reasons for\ndoubting its truth. However this be, many catholic families fell away\nfrom their religion after the battle of Culloden: at this time the\nwhole Digby family was decidedly protestant, excepting three respectable\nvirgins, aunts of my grandfather; and my mother, under the care of an\nuncle, became, at the age of twenty-two, the meet and willing bride of a\nyoung Anglican divine.\n\nNevertheless, some \"rags of popery\" hung about her; she was very devout,\nand made long prayers: she had not her breviary indeed, but the psalms\nand chapters of the day served equally well: she doubted whether the\ngunpowder treason was a popish or a ministerial plot: the R. R. Dr.\nMilner had not yet written the dissertation, in his \"Letters to a\nPrebendary,\" which proves that it was the latter. For want of this\nwell-argued and convincing statement, I was called on to read, on the\n5th of November, while squibs and crackers sounded in my ears, and Guy\nFaux, suspended over the Castle Hill, was waiting his fate,--to read, I\nsay, the life of Sir Everard Digby in the Biographia Britannica, where\nhis character is treated with some kindness and respect. Sir Kenelm\nDigby is, of course, the next article in the \"Biography:\" all this while\nI was detained from the dangerous explosions of the fire-works, which\nwas in part my mother's purpose, though she had, no doubt, her\ngratification in the lecture.\n\nThe youth of the present day are quite indifferent to the celebration of\nthe 5th of November; they have not the grace to thank God for delivering\nthem from \"the hellish malice of popish conspirators;\" few of them even\nknow that this delicate phrase is to be found in their Book of Common\nPrayer. But five and forty or fifty years ago, before the repeal of the\npenal laws against catholics, when not a chapel was permitted to them,\nbut by connivance, those of catholic ambassadors alone excepted; before\nthe French Revolution had driven a catholic priest into almost every\ntown in England,--the case was widely different: let the riots of 1780\nbespeak the popular feeling of the people towards the religion of their\nforefathers. Here then, while they sung,\n\n O then the wicked papishes ungodly did conspire\n To blow up king and parliament with gun-pow-dire,--\n\nI was taking a febrifuge draught, prepared by maternal caution and\nfamily pride.\n\nI went every day to learn Greek and Latin at the school founded for the\nuse of the city out of the spoils of some monastery abolished at the\ntime of Henry the Eighth's schism. The sons of citizens are here taught\ngratis; others give a small honorarium to the master. The school was\nheld in the very chapel of the old religious house; the windows looked\ninto a place called the Friars or Freres, and over the east window\nstood, and still stands, the _cross_, \"la trionfante croie.\" But this\nwas not all. Opposite to the door of the school-yard lived three elderly\nladies, catholics, of small fortunes, who had united their incomes and\ndwelt here, not far from their chapel, in peace and piety. One of these\nladies was Miss, or, as she chose to call herself, Mrs. Ravenscroft. Now\nmy great grandfather, James Digby had married a lady of that family: it\nfollowed therefore that my mother and Mrs. Ravenscroft were cousins. My\nfather's house was about a third of a mile from the school: Mrs.\nRavenscroft obtained leave for me, whenever it should rain between nine\nand ten in the morning, the hour at which the school-boys went to\nbreakfast, that I might call and take my bread and milk at her house.\nSome condition, I suppose, was made, that I should not be allowed to\nhave tea: but they put sugar in my milk, and all the old ladies and\ntheir servants were very kind, and, as I observed, very cheerful; so\nthat I was well pleased when it rained at nine o'clock.\n\nOne day it chanced to rain all the morning, an occurrence so common in\nEngland, that I wonder it only happened once. I staid to dine with Mrs.\nRavenscroft and the other ladies. It was a day of abstinence. My\nfather, to do him justice as a true protestant, \"an honest man who eat\nno fish,\" had not accustomed me to days of abstinence; but, as I had had\nno play all the morning, I found the boiled eggs and hot cockles very\nsatisfactory, as well as amusing by their novelty. The priest came in\nafter dinner, and Mrs. Ravenscroft telling him that I was her little\ncousin, Master ----, he spoke to me with great civility. At that time\ncatholic priests did not dare to risk making themselves known as such,\nby wearing black coats. Mr. Knight was dressed in a grave suit of\nsnuff-colour, with a close neat wig of dark brown hair, a cocked hat,\nalmost an equilateral triangle, worsted stockings, and little silver\nbuckles. By this detail may be inferred the impression that was made on\nmy mind and fancy. I believe I was the only protestant lad in England,\nof my age, at that time, who had made an abstinence dinner, and shaken\nhands with a jesuit.\n\nWhen the rain gave over, I returned home, and related to my father all\nthe history of the day. This I did with so much apparent pleasure, that\nhe said, in great good-nature, \"These old women will make a papist of\nyou, Harry.\" He sent them occasionally presents of game in return for\ntheir attentions to me.\n\nThe wife of the Earl of Traquair was also of the family of Ravenscroft,\nand Lord and Lady Traquair, in coming from or returning to Scotland,\npassed part of a day with my father and mother. Dr. Geddes, since so\nwell known, accompanied his patron. I remember going with the party to\nsee the ruins of the bishop's palace. Dr. Geddes's conversation was\nlively and pleasing. He was sure, he said, that my sister, some years\nolder than myself, was a judge of poetry, since she read it so well: and\nhe requested her acceptance of a copy of a satire of Horace which he had\nlately translated and printed. I know not if he ever pursued this work.\n\nCatholic gentry, every now and then, made visits to my mother; I\nsuppose, for the sake of \"auld lang-syne.\" Amongst these, Mr. and Mrs.\nArundel, afterwards Lord and Lady Arundel, called on her so soon after\nthe death of my father, that she could not go with them to the cathedral\nwhere he had been but lately interred. I accompanied them, and, on\nentering the south door, pointed out the pedestal on which, and the\ncanopy under which stood, in catholic times, an image of the Blessed\nVirgin, under whose invocation the church is dedicated.\n\nComparing the behaviour of these gentry to my mother with the conduct of\nall of the same class, with three or four exceptions only, towards\nme,--I infer that the best way to be treated by them with common\ncivility is, to be, not a convert, but a renegado.\n\nMy father died while I was yet in the fourteenth year of my age: in less\nthan three years after this event, when I was not quite sixteen years\nand a half old, I became a commoner of University College, Oxford; and,\nhaving kept there three terms, was nominated, at the election held\nimmediately after the feast of the Patroness Saint; a Demy of St. Mary\nMagdalen College. I passed the long or summer vacations at my mother's\nhouse. During the second of these vacations, when rummaging among my\nfather's books, I found, thrown aside among waste papers in a neglected\ncloset, an old copy of the Rheims or Douay translation of the New\nTestament. The preface to this work is admirable, and might be read by\nmanagers of Bible Societies, if not to their advantage, at least to\ntheir confusion.\n\nBy what chance the book came there, how long it had lain there, whether\nmy father had even ever known of its existence, I cannot tell. The notes\nare equal in bulk to the text: they attracted my attention, and I read\nthem greedily.\n\nIt will be observed, from the account given of my infancy, that I had\nbeen from the first familiarized with popery; that I had been brought\nup without any horror of it. This was much: but this was all. I knew\nnothing of the doctrines of the catholic church, but what I had learned\nfrom the lies in Guthrie's Geographical Grammar, and from the witticisms\nin the \"Tale of a Tub,\"--a book, the whole argument of which may be\nrefuted by a few dates added in the margin. My English reading had\nfilled my head with the usual prejudices on these topics. Of popes I had\nconceived an idea that they were a succession of ferocious, insolent,\nand ambitious despots, always foaming with rage, and bellowing forth\nanathemas.\n\nI now perceived that there was some ground in Scripture for believing\nthat St. Peter was superior to the other apostles, (\"Simon Peter, lovest\nthou me more than these?\" \"A greater charge required a greater love,\"\nargues one of the Fathers;) and that, by the consent of all antiquity,\nthe Bishops of Rome were the successors of St. Peter. Of other doctrines\nI found rational, and what appeared to me plausible explanations.\nTransubstantiation was still a stumbling-block.\n\nI talked without reserve to my mother of my book, and of the impression\nit had made on me. She had no theological knowledge, but she had a\ngreat deal of religious feeling, and this feeling was all on the side of\ncatholicism. Had she consulted an able catholic priest, perhaps had she\nconsulted no one, I had at this time become a catholic: she would have\nbeen well pleased with my conversion, and her own would have followed.\nFor her sake, as well as for many other reasons, I most sincerely regret\nthat it did not at this time take place. Not that I doubt of the mercy\nof God towards innocent, involuntary error, but because, when we want to\ngo to a place, it is better to be in the right road.\n\nShe consulted my old schoolmaster, a wise and prudent man, as well\nacquainted with the question as the Anglican clergy in general are. As\nmy mother was perfectly free from poperyphobia, she proposed the matter\nat once: \"Henry has been reading this book, and has a great mind to be a\ncatholic: you know all my family were catholics.\" My counsellor, without\nlooking even at the outside of the book, put on a grave face,--a\ntremendously grave face: \"I had rather give five hundred pounds than\nthat such a thing should come to pass.\" I well knew the value he set on\nfive hundred pounds, and conceived an analogous idea of his repugnance.\nNevertheless, I pressed the book on his notice. \"All this has been said\na thousand times over;\" meaning, and I so understood him, that it ought\nto have no more weight with me than with others; though the argument\nproved nothing but the usual obstinacy of those to whom arguments are\naddressed.\n\nMy old master was too wise a man to argue even with a woman and a boy.\n\"What would the world think of such a step? What would your father say\nif he could come to life again? What will become of your education and\nfuture prospects?\" My mother was alarmed at her own responsibility in\nthe passive encouragement she had given. I was but seventeen years old.\nI did not, however, quite give up the point. \"These people have a great\ndeal to say for themselves.\"--\"You think so? There's Christianity enough\nin the church of England.\" A few years later I found he thought there\nwas too much.\n\nI had subsequent conversations with him: I indirectly consulted others:\nI still read my book; but a book of notes has not the effect of a\ndissertation, well followed up, and leading to a conclusion. I found\nsome insurmountable difficulties, and for the rest I said, \"Le roi\ns'avisera.\" I had no other catholic work, and no catholic adviser. I\nwent back to my college, where other studies occupied me; yet I may say,\nI never lost sight of the subject.\n\nGibbon, who was a gentleman-commoner of Magdalen College, a few years\nbefore my time, declared himself a catholic before his twentieth year.\nHe was still remembered in college as a young man who seldom or never\nassociated with other young men, who always dressed in black, and always\ncame into the hall or refectory too late at dinner time. He found\ncatholics to help him in the work of his conversion. His father put him\n_en pension_ with a Calvinist minister, to be re-made a protestant, no\nmatter of what sort. He saw, and throughout his great work shows that he\ncontinued to see, that the truth of the Christian religion rests on the\nauthority of the catholic church. \"The predictions of the catholics are\naccomplished: the web of mystery has been unravelled by Arminians,\nArians, and Socinians, whose numbers must be no longer counted from\ntheir separate congregations; and the pillars of revelation are shaken\nby men who profess the name without the substance of religion, who\nassume the licence without the temper of philosophy.\" Pity that such a\nman should have been led away by the spirit of the age, so as not to\nperceive that true philosophy is the good and natural ally of the\ncatholic faith.\n\nIf any grave doctor of the Anglican church had, at this time, attempted\nto lay the foundations of my belief in his own form of religion, he\nwould probably have failed in his work; partly, because the respect due\nto such a personage from a youth like me would have hindered that\nfreedom of question, reply, and rejoinder, by which satisfactory\nconviction is at length produced; partly, because I should have\nconsidered him as bound in honour and interest to maintain his own\nopinions, and require implicit submission; and because also I should\nprobably have found, as I have since found, the arguments, which such an\none would have adduced, to proceed on misrepresentation, and to be\nlogically absurd.\n\nThere are two methods of defending the reformed church of England; one\nis, by asserting the right of private judgment; but this method is\ninconsistent with the authority of Scripture, and with the truth of the\npromises of Christ;--with the authority of Scripture, because it is\nabsurd to allow to any body of men the right or power to say, \"this book\nis Scripture, and this book is not Scripture,\" and to refuse to the\nsame body the right of deciding on its sense in case of dispute. Had\nthis body the privilege of infallibility while deciding on the canon,\nand were they immediately deprived of it? Infallibility--I dispute not\nabout words: were they providentially preserved from error during this\nimportant operation, and ever afterwards abandoned to error? Common\nsense and the rules of criticism may enable us to decide on the\nhistorical credit due to any work laid before us; but _Scripture_, _the\nword of God_,--something more is necessary to men who are thus to\narbitrate between mankind and their faith; and it is absurd to suppose\nthat this _something more_ was taken from them when called on to\ndetermine matters of faith, by the help of this same Scripture, united\nto the tradition of the church. I might make my argument stronger, by\nremarking on the length of time which elapsed before the canon of\nScripture was settled: was the church infallible during all that time,\nor only at intervals, by fits and starts? I will quote the words of St.\nAugustin, a Father often cited by the Anglican church: \"Thou believest\nScripture; thou doest well: ego vero Scripturae non crederem nisi me\necclesiae catholicae urgeret auctoritas.\"\n\nIndeed, so difficult is it to reconcile the more than human authority\nof the Bible with the right of private judgment, that I believe the\nhistorical Christians, as they may be called, to be very numerous, and\ndaily increasing in number.\n\nThis right of private judgment is also inconsistent with the truth of\nthe promises of Christ. He sent his apostles to teach all nations,\npromising to be with them,--it must be presumed, in their teaching,--to\nthe consummation of the age. In the exercise then of that private\njudgment, which the reformers of the sixteenth century asserted, all the\nChristian world fell into error: yes, all of them; for Luther says, \"in\nprincipio solus eram.\" The clergy, it may be said, pretended to\nauthority, and even persecuted to the death those who differed from\nthem. Persecution is no theological argument, though it is one which\nCalvin and Cranmer and other reformers did not object to resort to. But\nthe clergy merely pretended to authority: by the supposed case, each\nman's particular opinion is his rule of faith, and therefore the Church\nof England is justified in its reformation. But, by following this rule,\nall the Christian world, according to the reformers, had fallen into\nerror. Jesus Christ therefore, though he promised to be with his\ndisciples to the end of the world, was unable or unwilling to keep his\npromise.\n\nThe other method of defending the reformation of the Church of England,\nis by admitting, that the Church of Rome, as the Anglicans call it, has\nbeen, and is, a true church, teaching with authority all doctrines\nnecessary to salvation; that the Church of England, having purified\nitself from errors and abuses, is also a true church, an integral\nportion of the catholic or universal church, with all the authority to\nsuch a body ecclesiastical, of due right, appertaining.\n\nThis statement compels the Church of England to assert for itself\nsomething like infallibility; for, as Voltaire expresses it, \"L'eglise\ncatholique est infaillible, et l'eglise Anglicane n'a jamais tort.\" This\nmust be so; for the authority of a church which may be in the wrong,\nmust be always questioned.\n\nThis statement also deprives the Church of England of all advantage in\narms (theological arms I mean,) against the dissenters and other\nreformers: they turn upon her, and ask how she is more infallible, or\neven more in the right, than the Church of Rome. The Kirk of Scotland\nwill no more allow itself to be in the wrong than the Church of England.\nThus disputes are endless; appeals to remote antiquity, instead of\nuninterrupted tradition, involve the matter in hopeless intricacy; and\nthe private judgment of nations has no more weight than the private\njudgment of individuals.\n\nSuch are the two modes of defending England's reformation adopted by the\nlow and the high church parties, which once declaredly and still\ninsensibly divide its clergy. I have explained both methods, as they are\nbetter understood by being contrasted: I have noted the vice of each,\nthat I may give in part my reasons for rejecting both in due time. Till\nthis due time arrived, I was induced to embrace, and, for the time,\nconscientiously embraced, the opinions of a high churchman; and I was\ninduced to this by the arguments and example of my friend Richard Paget.\n\nAt the time when I became a member of Magdalen College, he had just\ntaken the degree of Bachelor of Arts. A young under-graduate cannot help\nregarding with some deference one already in possession of the first of\nthose academical honours to which himself aspires. Paget was besides\nthree or four years older than me. This advantage of degree and age was\nnot so great as to cause any subjection on my part; I looked up to him,\nbut, if the pun may be allowed, did not suspect him. He, on his part,\ntreated me with the greatest kindness and familiarity. He was, as he\nsaid, the second son of a second son of a second son of a younger branch\nof a noble family. He had not much given himself to classical studies,\nbut he was well skilled in antiquities, including heraldry; witness the\nexactitude of his own pedigree: he was well read in English history,\nparticularly that of the time of Charles I. with every personage of\nwhich he might be said to be intimately acquainted. He had a great love\nand good taste for the fine arts and for music. His conversation was, in\nthe highest degree, pleasing; it was lively, allusive, full of anecdote:\nhis manner of expressing himself was at once forcible and easy; his\njudgment was discriminating, his temper gentle and equal. I never think\nof him without regretting his loss; and he is often recalled to my\nmemory by the benefit and instruction which I have derived from his\nfriendship.\n\nWe used to sit together hour after hour, cozing: I believe I must thus\nspell the word we have derived from the French _causer_; no other word\nhas the same meaning. He would take up scraps of paper, and draw\nadmirable caricature likenesses of the members of the college, not\nsparing the person before him; then a stroll round the walks; and then,\nas we passed by the door of my rooms on our return, \"come in again,\" and\nso, another hour's coze. Soon after the commencement of our\nacquaintance, he began the studies which he thought requisite as a\npreparation for being ordained a minister of the Church of England. I\nhad the result of these studies, which he pursued according to his own\ntaste, for there is or was no rule in this matter: great admiration of\nthe character of Archbishop Laud; lamentation of the want of splendor\nand ceremonial in the Anglican service; blame of those clergy who\nallowed church authority to slip from their hands, lowering themselves\ninto teachers of mere morality. He gave himself very little trouble\nabout the opinions of the dissenters, condemning them all in a lump by a\nsort of ecclesiastical and political anathema; but he took great pains\nto convince himself that the Church of England was in the right in its\npolemical dispute with the Church of Rome. He was willing to allow to\nthe bishop of that city a preseance above all other bishops, not merely\non account of the former imperial dignity of the city, but also on\naccount of his succession to St. Peter, who had the same precedence\namong the apostles, though the privileges of the apostles were equal, as\nthose of bishops ought to be. He saved the indefectibility of the\nchurch, by declaring that the Church of Rome was a true church, though\nnot a pure church; that papists might be saved, since what they believed\namiss did not destroy the effect of what they believed aright. He\naffirmed, that the separation of the Church of England from the Church\nof Rome was the pope's fault; that England had not separated from Rome,\nbut had exercised its right of reforming errors in faith, and abuses in\ndiscipline, and approached nearer to the primitive model; that the pope,\nin excommunicating England for having done thus, had in fact,\nexcommunicated himself. On several points he showed the practice of Rome\nto be right; on others, to regard things indifferent.\n\nMany other matters relating to this subject were discussed in our\nconversations, occasionally resumed during the continuance of my\nfriend's residence in college. He was ordained deacon, and some two\nyears after died.\n\nIn the year 1791 I took my Master of Arts' degree in Act term, that is,\nin the beginning of summer, and went to Lincoln to pass some time with\nmy mother, before I should put into execution a project which I had long\nmeditated of a journey to France and Italy. Between my Bachelor's and\nMaster's degrees, as I had no excuse for non-residence in college, I\nhad been obliged to reside: indeed I was sufficiently fond of the\nliterary leisure which this mode of life secured to me. I had always\nconsidered myself as destined to Anglican orders; it was the profession\nwhich my father had chosen for me, and I had, in some sort, prepared for\nit: I had confirmed myself in high church principles, and read a little\nHebrew; but I had also studied the French and Italian languages for the\nuse and service of my foreign travels, as also because it was rather my\nwish and ambition to enter on the diplomatic career, if I should find\noccasion and protection. But how could any one propose to himself to\npass any length of time on the continent, agitated, as it now was, by\nthe beginnings of the French revolution? Many ventured to go abroad; but\nI was alarmed: the unsuccessful attempt of the king and queen of France\nto escape to Montmedi had thrown France into confusion: it was evident\nthat a crisis was at hand.\n\nI waited. During this time a violent inflammation in my eyes (a\ncomplaint to which I had been often subject, and which will, I fear, in\nits consequences, finally deprive me of sight,) confined me to the\nhouse, and prevented me from reading for some weeks. Deprived of the use\nof books, at all times my chief employment and consolation, and\ncompelled to occupy myself with my own thoughts, I passed in review the\ntopics by which men are usually induced to devote themselves to the more\nimmediate service of God. My education, whatever may have been its\ninfluence on my virtue, had been regular, monkish even, if any one\nplease to call it so: the feeling of piety had never been entirely\nrenounced by me; and I now easily brought myself to entertain the hope\nthat, by entering into the ecclesiastical state, I might be of some use\nto the cause of religion. The first day that my eye-sight was restored\nto me, I wrote to the president of Magdalen College, then bishop of\nNorwich, requesting to be admitted as a candidate for deacon's orders at\nthe next ordination in September.\n\nThe same motives which influenced me to this step, induced me also,\nthree months afterwards, to take the curacy of a large parish in\nLincoln; to engage, that is, to do the duties of him _qui curat_, as far\nas my inferior degree of deacon permitted. The stipend, about one fifth\nof the wages of an able mechanic, was known to be no object with me: I\nhad an income more than sufficient for my wants as a single man, and,\nbesides, lived in the house of my mother. As usual, in similar cases,\nsome applauded my zeal, while others laughed at it.\n\nWithin a few months, a fellowship became vacant on my county. I went up\nto college to pronounce my probationary oration. In this discourse,\nenumerating the former worthies of the house, I commended our\npredecessors at the time of the Reformation for having been of the\nnumber of those who did not wish that reformation to be\nexcessive--_nimia_ was the word; and of those who did not think, \"the\nfurther from Rome, the nearer to truth.\" The orator, on this occasion,\nis introduced between the first and second course of the grand dinner of\nthe 22d of July; his voice may be clear as his stomach is empty: his\ntask completed, he is placed at the right hand of him who presides at\nthe \"strangers' table,\" ranged down the middle of the hall, and is\nserved with the first slice of the haunch of venison. I took the place\nreserved for me; and not perceiving that my high church sentiments had\ndispleased any of my auditors, found the second course of a public\ndinner, under such glorious and hopeful circumstances, an ample amends\nfor being excluded from the first.\n\nI was so much pleased with a college life, that I determined to return\nto my abode in college, on my admission as _actual_ fellow. I thought I\nhad done enough to testify my devotion to the church by one year's\nvolunteer service of the parish of St. Martin; for volunteer it was in\nthe spirit, and almost in the letter. \"Let all those who look for high\npreferment in the church, do as much,\" said I. My mother, who seemed\nquite to have forgotten the Rheims Translation of the New Testament, of\nwhich I was too besotted to remind her, received my promise to pass two\nor three months of every year with her. I soon found myself settled in a\nhandsome apartment of the new building of Magdalen College.\n\nIt is the usage to require of every one, to be admitted actual fellow of\nMagdalen College, what is called a probationary exercise. On this\noccasion I composed a treatise, bearing for title, \"The Christian\nReligion briefly defended against the Republicans and Levellers of\nFrance.\" There was no especial reason for levelling this treatise\nagainst the French levellers; but the French republic was, at this time,\nin England, the _black dog_ upon every occasion: my work was a defence\nof general Christianity, upon a plan suggested by the _pensees de\nPascal_. I had, however, my quarrel with the French legislators for\nmaking marriage a municipal ceremony and permitting divorce. I had not\na sense of justice clear enough to blame the English law, for insisting\nthat the marriages of catholics and dissenters shall be celebrated\naccording to the rite of the English church. I did not bring forward the\nremark, that divorce is permitted in England; nor did I observe, that by\nthe French law on the subject, no yoke was imposed on the conscience,\nsince no married persons were required to divorce themselves, but only\nallowed to do so. I am entirely of opinion that such a law is highly to\nbe reprobated in a civil point of view; but in what concerns religion,\nlet each man's conscience take care of itself.\n\nBut my main grief against the French legislators was the plunder and\ndegradation of their church. In treating this matter, I as much forgot,\nas if I had never heard or read, that, not much more than two centuries\nbefore this period, all the bishops of England, (excepting only him of\nLlandaff,) and about ten thousand clergy, were deprived of their\nbenefices, and sent to beg their bread all over Europe; and this, not\nbecause they would not accept a civil constitution, but because they\nwould not accede to a new religion; and this, not in a time of civil\ntumult, and under the pressure of foreign invasion; but at the bidding\nof a young woman of five and twenty. But \"tua res agitur paries cum\nproximus ardet,\" was a sentiment pretty generally felt at this time in\nEngland: to this sentiment, more than to any love of their religion, the\nFrench clergy may attribute the hospitable reception they met with in\nEngland. The deed was benevolent whatever its motive, and in the deed I\nhad more than my share.\n\nIn writing this essay, I struggled, and, as Longinus says, lashed my\nsides through two or three pages of introduction, and immediately\nafterwards found my composition to flow from me with tolerable ease: I\nwrote with less difficulty than I now experience, and am surprised that\nI so soon acquired a style by no means faulty. I do not say this for my\n_petite gloriole_, but because it seems a part of my story to give the\nreader a measure of my juvenile ability. I consulted two friends on the\nquestion of publication: they advised against it, told me I could do\nbetter, and pointed to the first part. Richard Paget also desired me to\nwrite the introduction over again, but did not, as my other\nbetter-judging friends had done, counsel the suppression. I went to\nLondon to find a printer: it was impossible here to sit down to correct;\nand I made a book of it as it was. Valenciennes was, at that time,\nbesieged by the Duke of York, and it was generally supposed that the\nallied armies were a better bulwark of Christianity than a shilling\npamphlet. The printer told me that Christianity was a very good thing,\nand that nobody doubted it.\n\nIn November following I preached before the university, at St. Mary's\nchurch, a sermon on the text, \"Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are\nremitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained.\"\nI asserted, that the power of absolving sin neither had been, nor could\nhave been, abandoned by our reformers; defended the power against all\nimpugners and repugners; and indicated the evil consequences resulting\nfrom allowing it to lie in abeyance. After some declamation respecting\nthe horrors then perpetrated in a neighbouring nation, and some fears\nrespecting the removal of our candlestick,--I concluded by trusting,\nthat all whom it might concern would acquit themselves as faithful\nstewards of the mysteries of God. The leading members of the university\nwere prodigal in praise of this discourse. One of them, afterwards a\nbishop, preached the Sunday following at St. Mary's, to assure the\nuniversity that I was in the right; a confirmation which, considering my\nyouth and inexperience, he justly deemed by no means superfluous.\nAnother, whom I should be proud to name were there no indiscretion in\ndoing so, bought the sermon when published; a compliment which, my\nprinter told me, he had not paid to any of those published for many\nyears past. He might do this, it may be said, as finding the sermon\nsupremely ridiculous; but this supposition is negatived by the gracious\nmanner in which, from this time, though I had not yet the honour of his\nacquaintance, he always saluted me in passing; his high station and\ncharacter permitted to him this mode of signifying his approbation to\none unknown, and rendered it peculiarly gratifying to me.\n\nSome, however, cried out \"flat popery;\" but the words in which the\npriest is directed to give absolution in the \"Order for the Visitation\nof the Sick,\" are so precise; the assertion of the right in all cases is\nhere so formal; (for it is not supposed that a physician is to be sent\nfor to determine whether the penitent patient is sick enough to be\nabsolved) the practice, in respect to penance, of those early ages to\nwhich the church of England appeals, is so well known;--that the cry of\n\"flat popery\" could not be sustained. Indeed, the sermon bears on the\nface of it some very outrageous abuse of the Romish church; but this\nabuse is so much a matter of course, that it would hardly have served as\na justification, had one been wanted. I professed myself contented to\nbe as popish as the church of England.\n\nOne of the heads of the university said to me: \"The doctrine of your\nexcellent discourse is clearly the doctrine of the church of England:\nshe asserts the right of absolution to be inherent in her clergy, but\nthe people will not submit to the exercise of the power.\" This is true;\nit is true also, that the clergy very prudently abstain, in general,\nfrom sounding the inclinations of the people on the subject. My attempt\nmust rather be considered, from the place in which the discourse was\ndelivered, as a sort of _concio ad clerum_.\n\nI have heard of one clergyman who made the attempt; he preached to his\npeople of the power belonging to him, as a priest, of absolving them\nfrom their sins, and of the benefit which they would derive, if truly\npenitent, from confession and absolution; concluding by fixing a time,\nat which he would be at home, to hear all those who should have any\ncommunications to make to him with such intention. This discourse caused\na mighty hubbub in the parish; people did not know what to make of it;\nsome doubted if their clergyman could seriously mean what he had said:\none old woman did not hesitate to declare \"she would be d----d if she\nwould tell him all she knew.\" The confusion ceased in due time; but the\npeople neglected to avail themselves of the offer of their pastor.\n\nSome time before, a book had been recommended to me, which I found\ngreat difficulty in procuring; at last I found it in the very centre\nof the fashionable world. I went into Faulder's shop, in Bond Street.\n\"Have you _Pluralities Indefensible_, by Dr. Newton, founder of\nHertford College?\"--\"It is a book which I always take care to have\nby me, for the best of all possible reasons,--I am always sure of\nselling it.\"--\"I should not have supposed that. Who buy it? Any\nclergymen?\"--\"Yes.\"--\"What use do they make of it?\" Mr. Faulder\nunderstood my question. I have forgotten his answer, but it was\ndiscreet.\n\nNon-residence on benefices with cure of souls, was one of those abuses\nin catholic discipline, which, more than any other, tended to bring on\nthe Reformation; it is an abuse which that Reformation has not yet\nreformed.\n\nI read my book on Pluralities, and was convinced that they were\nindefensible. Having not yet learned,--perhaps having yet to learn, that\n\"the better part of valour is discretion,\"--soon after my sermon on\nabsolution, I preached in the same church as before, to a congregation\ncomposed as before, a discourse, in which I detailed the evils of\npluralities, as necessitating non-residence, and the appointment of\n\"hired substitutes, improperly called curates,\" to perform those duties,\nwhich the principal has engaged to perform, and which, unless disabled,\nhe is in conscience bound to perform personally. This discourse was not\nheard with the same approbation as the former.\n\n\"Religious persuasion\" is a phrase bandied about by men who have no very\naccurate notion of the sense in which they employ the words. One cannot\nbe persuaded of a truth: he may believe that to be true which is not so;\nbut then he judges it to be true,--he is not persuaded; one cannot even\nbe persuaded of a fact; the judgment and the senses are not to be\npersuaded. In religion, a man either believes, or doubts, or rejects: if\nhe believe, his belief, on account of the supernatural authority to\nwhich he submits himself, is called faith. But, if in religion there be\nsects and parties, he may be persuaded by circumstances to choose one\nparty rather than another; but this is a persuasion that respects the\naccessaries to religion, not the religion itself. If he adopt or profess\nthe religion, without believing it, he is a hypocrite. I have laid down\nthese principles by which to try my own conduct during my stay in\nMagdalen College.\n\nIf I were conscious of any insincerity in my adherence to the church of\nEngland, during this period, I would now declare it; I hold myself bound\nto tell the truth, and not intentionally to lead the reader into any\nmisapprehension. I had certainly committed a great fault in not\nprosecuting the inquiry begun by the reading of the Rheims Translation\nof the New Testament: it was the fault of my boyhood,--a fault of which,\non human grounds even, I have but too much cause to repent. By not\nbringing this inquiry, at that time, to the point to which I afterwards\nbrought it, I lost twelve years of my life, dating from seventeen years\nold,--a time which might have been employed in diverting my education to\nother purposes, in adopting and following another profession, and in\nforming other connexions and friendships, than those which I have, of\ncourse, forfeited by my conversion. But, during these twelve years,\nexcepting the last year only, passed in doubt and research, I firmly\nbelieved that \"the church of Rome had erred, not only in matters of\ndiscipline, but also in matters of faith.\" Transubstantiation was the\ngreat stumbling-block; and a church which had erred in so grave a\nmatter was not a teacher to be implicitly confided in. I thought\ncatholics were, not intentionally, but in fact, guilty of idolatry; and\nI thought the sin pardonable in them on account of the intention. Having\nonce set myself at liberty to reject the authority of the church in\ncommunion with the bishop of Rome, I followed, among the various\ninterpretations of which Scripture is capable, that given by the church\nof England, judging it to be most reasonable. Not sufficiently\ninstructed in the distinction between matters of faith and questions of\ndiscipline, I believed the differences and points in dispute between\nthese two portions of the catholic church, to be more numerous than they\nreally are.\n\nArchimedes said, \"Give me where to stand, and I will move the earth.\" At\nOxford I was on the peculiar ground, the _terra firma_, if firm it be,\nof the church of England: there I could not move or weigh it, or see it\nat a due distance, to judge of its form or proportion. Indifference was\nhardly to be obtained amidst so many sympathies. An event however\noccurred, which removed me to a distance from this scene, leaving my\nmind free for an investigation which, with the opinions and feelings\nwhich my friend, Richard Paget, had taught and infused, and Oxford had\nconfirmed, was soon brought to a fair conclusion.\n\nOn the 10th of April, 1797, I received, by an express at ten o'clock in\nthe evening, a letter from a physician at Lincoln, acquainting me with\nthe dangerous state of my mother's health, informing me, that it was\nhardly probable that on my arrival at her house, I should find her\nliving. In an hour's time I was in a post chaise, and hastened by the\nshortest road through Northamptonshire. Though obliged to wait at every\ninn during the night time for fresh horses, and delayed two hours by\nbeing overturned, I got to Lincoln, a distance of a hundred and thirty\nmiles, by seven the next evening. My mother had died at the hour at\nwhich the express had reached Oxford.\n\nThe estate which devolved to me by her death being freehold, my\nfellowship was not tenable with it. I quitted Magdalen College within\nthree months, sent my books to Lincoln, and established myself there in\na mode of life very much according with my former collegiate habits.\nBefore I left Oxford, I acquainted the president of my college with my\nwish to be appointed to preach the Bampton lecture; he acquiesced, and\ndesired me to write him word when I should be prepared, that he might\npropose me to the heads of houses, with whom rests the nomination of\nthe lecturer. This institution is so well known, that no account of it\nhere is necessary. The subject of my lecture, as I mentioned to the\npresident, was to be, Christianity proved against the objections of the\nJews. Dr. Routh, with that amenity of manners, which distinguishes him\nas much as his great learning, gave me the titles of several books that\nmight be useful to me.\n\nWhile meditating the conversion of the Jews, I received one day at\ndinner a French emigrant priest and an Anglican clergyman. The _esprit\nde son etat_ in the former, and the total absence of it in the latter,\nwere equally remarkable. However, we talked _about_ religion. My\nAnglican attacked the catholic on account of certain practices which\nthis one easily proved to be common to both communions, the only\ndifference being that the church of England does not observe its own\nordinances. The clergyman would not take refuge in the \"slow and silent\nreformation,\" by which such deviations are usually excused: he knew he\nshould not have me for an auxiliary; he retreated to transubstantiation.\nHere the Frenchman, who talked English well but not currently, was soon\noverpowered by two opponents; and the Anglican, his retreat thus\ncovered by me, carried off with him the honour of the day.\n\nThe emigrant was M. l'Abbe Beaumont, who had formerly been rector of the\nuniversity of Caen, and appointed canon of the cathedral of Rouen: he\nwas about to take possession of his stall, when the order was issued, on\naccount of the approach of the Duke of Brunswick, that every priest who\nshould still refuse to take the oath prescribed by the civil\nconstitution of the clergy, should be banished from France within\nfifteen days. He had been brought to Lincoln by a gentleman of the\nneighbourhood, who had retained him for some time in his family to teach\nFrench to his children. On the death of Mr. Knight, whom I have\nmentioned above, he was appointed to the care of the little catholic\ncongregation of Lincoln. When visiting at my mother's house, I had\nformerly known him; and, on this occasion, renewed my acquaintance with\nhim.\n\nAfter the Anglican had taken his leave, he talked for some time on\nindifferent topics, but at length renewed the former conversation with\nan air, as if he had recollected something, though I rather suspect he\nhad prepared himself. \"Pray, at what time did the change take place from\nyour doctrine, respecting the Eucharist, to that professed by all\nChristians three hundred years ago?\" I begged of him to put his\nquestion more clearly. \"If your doctrine on this point be the true one,\nit was taught by the apostles, and received by the first Christians;\nthen, our interpretation must have been introduced at some subsequent\nperiod: I ask you to fix that period.\" There were better reasons than I\nat the time supposed for my inability to give a precise answer. \"It was\nintroduced gradually during the dark ages.\"--\"In the first place,\n_gradually_--that is impossible: the question is, whether the body of\nChrist is really or figuratively present: the people must have known in\nwhich sense they believed it to be present, and would have resisted\ninnovation. Do you think it would be easy at this day to make the people\nof England believe in the real presence?\"--\"No; because they have\nalready rejected it.\"--\"I admit the difference; but at any time it must\nhave been impossible to change the faith of the people without their\nperceiving it; and the controversy, which the attempt must have excited,\nwould have come down to our days in works written on both sides: the\nmemory of the Arian controversy is not lost.\" I was struck by the\nargument and the parallel. He pressed me. \"What do you call the dark\nages?\"--\"The tenth century is called by Cave, a learned English divine,\n_seculum tenebrosum_.\"--\"Berenger of Angers, in the eleventh century,\nwho first taught the figurative sense, found all the world in the belief\nof the real presence.\"--\"First? you forget the apostles.\"--\"It is for\nyou to prove that they taught the figurative sense. St. John Chrysostom,\nwho lived in the fourth age, preached on this subject like a catholic\ndoctor of the present day.\"--\"Really? I have his works; I will refer to\nthe passages.\"--\"Will you give me leave to send you a treatise on this\nsubject, entitled _La perpetuite de la foi de l'eglise touchant\nl'eucharistie_?\" As I was going to convert the Jews by a Bampton\nlecture, I said I did not wish to engage in reading a great work in old\nFrench: I inferred that it was old French from the word _touchant_. Mr.\nBeaumont assured me that it was written in very good French of the\npresent time, as also in a very agreeable style: he told me, that at any\nrate I should have time to read the tract of Nicole, of a few pages\nonly, stating the argument; that if I did not approve of it, I need not\nread the _Perpetuite_ by Arnaud, which was the development of Nicole's\ntext. I assented, and he wished me a good evening.\n\nI immediately referred to my edition of Chrysostom, by Sir Henry Savile,\nin eight volumes folio,--a master-piece of Greek typography, which I\nhad bought for three shillings a volume. I had read at hazard some of\nthe homilies. As these are in the form of a running commentary on the\ngospels and epistles, it was easy for me to turn to the texts in which\nthe institution of the Lord's Supper is narrated, and to the Epistle to\nthe Corinthians in which it is spoken of. I have no means at present of\nmaking quotations; those who are so inclined may refer as I did. I\nshowed these passages afterwards to two protestant friends, who\naffirmed, \"they must be figurative, because they were so strong for the\nliteral meaning.\" Sacramentarians are obliged to treat in this way the\nwords of Christ himself: this mode of begging the question (for it is\nnothing else) showed me the advantage of another sort of argument, which\nI found in Nicole and Arnaud.\n\nThey take it for granted that if it were certain Christ meant the words,\n\"this is my body,\" in the literal sense, protestants would give up the\ncause. In the time of these writers it might be so: I would not be too\nsure of that in the present day: I think many would reject, perhaps have\nalready rejected, the divinity of Christ, and his authority to teach\nsuch a doctrine, rather than admit the doctrine itself. I, however, was\nnot thus daring: I was prepared to admit the conclusion, if the premises\nwere proved. Unbelievers and catholics are consistent: protestants are\nphilosophers by halves.\n\nThe apostles then, according to Nicole, understood in what sense Christ\nspoke the words, \"this is my body,\" &c. and taught that sense to the\nfirst Christians, and the same sense was delivered to succeeding ages.\nBut, if this were the figurative sense, all the Christian world must, at\nsome time, have gone to sleep in the belief of the figurative sense, and\nawaked in the belief of the literal. The change, if there was one, was\neffected without the least disturbance, nobody knows how; and this, not\nin a question of abstract doctrine, but in one which included the\nadoration of _latria_, or the divine honour paid to the consecrated\nelements, in which worship every individual Christian was interested.\n\nArnaud, in the _Perpetuite_, proves, century by century, that the real\npresence and transubstantiation were believed, not only by the catholic\nchurch, but by the Greeks, after their schism as well as before, and by\nother communions separated from Catholic unity. At this distance of time\nI cannot do justice, nor could I at any time have done justice, by any\nsummary of mine, to the force and ability with which these two authors\nconduct the argument. To them I must refer the well-disposed, the\nimpartial, the disinterested, the honest inquirer.\n\nThe French theologians justly hold the first rank amongst all those of\nthe Christian world. I was now to become acquainted with him who may\ntake his place among the Fathers of the church,--the great Bossuet.\n\nThe church now re-entered on that claim to infallibility which it had\nlost with me by the supposed mistake touching the Eucharist. The book of\n\"Les Variations des Eglises Protestantes\" showed that the protestants,\nby their own admission, had no claim to this privilege, since they were\ncontinually changing and contradicting themselves; asserting, however,\nthe inspiration of the Holy Spirit in the enunciation of dogmas and\nformulas, which subsequent inspirations correct and amend.\n\n\"La reforme n'a jamais raison la premiere fois.\" How sharp, how cutting,\nhow penetrating, how conclusive is this sarcasm!\n\nThat book or section of the \"Variations\" which treats of \"the church,\"\nought to be published as a separate tract. I recommend a translation of\nit to the pious and zealous catholic clergy of England; it would be a\n_good work_: no men know better than they in what sense I use the\nwords.\n\n\"Quaerimus ecclesiam ubi sit,\" says St. Augustin; and from the words \"The\ngospel shall be preached in all nations, beginning at Jerusalem,\" he\ninfers, that the church is that body which began to teach at Jerusalem.\n\nOf the four marks of the church, set down in the Nicene creed, \"one,\nholy, catholic, apostolic,\"--the first mark is exclusive and\nindisputable. Any church may say of itself that it is holy, and every\ngood Christian will wish that it may be so. The church of England calls\nitself apostolic, because, as it affirms, its doctrine is apostolical;\nit also calls itself catholic, or a portion of the catholic church: but\nthen it is apostolical in one sense, and catholic in another;\napostolical by doctrine, and catholic by unity: then has the catholic\nchurch failed, since its doctrine was lost for so many ages: then may\nthere be union without communion.\n\nIt is curious to observe with what facility the English church can\ndistinguish between itself and the catholic in a question of persecution\nor civil exclusion, and how readily its portion of catholicity, when\npressed by the argument of unity, is re-asserted and resumed.\n\nA protestant Anglican friend said to me, one day, \"We are all catholics;\nyou are a Roman catholic, and I am--.\" He hesitated. \"What?\" said I; \"an\nEnglish catholic?\"\n\nNo Christian community, separated from the church, can claim to be the\nchurch; the date of its separation precludes the claim. \"Prior venio,\"\nsays Tertullian. Neither can it be a portion of the church; community in\nthings sacred being essential to unity. A mark is also given by Christ\nhimself, by which his one church may be known: \"Thou art Peter, and on\nthis rock I will build my church.\" All antiquity has recognised the pope\nof Rome as successor of Peter.\n\nHaving obtained this view of the subject, from reading several works of\nthe Fathers, I gave up the absurd notion of a true church teaching a\nfalse doctrine, and only wondered how I could have retained it so long.\nA church is essentially a teaching society, and, if it teach falsely, it\nhas failed in the very end and purpose of its existence. There is\nanother mode by which it is attempted to save the indefectibility of the\nchurch, namely, by supposing that, as there were seven thousand in\nIsrael, known only to God, who had not bowed the knee to Baal, so there\nalways existed somewhere some protestants. This fancy I had never\nadopted. The church is a city on a hill, not a candle under a bushel.\nHaving recognised the church by these marks, which are found united in\nit alone, I admired that Providence which supplied to the unlearned\nChristian or convert sufficient motives for submitting his judgment to\nthe doctrine of the church, instead of laying him under the necessity of\njudging of the church by the doctrine: which, enabling him to verify the\ncredentials of the ambassador, makes him confidently and joyfully\nreceive the embassy of grace and peace.\n\nIn this disposition of mind not much road remained for me to travel, and\nI followed henceforward the guidance of the church; studying for\ninstruction, not for dispute; to remove prejudices, and correct\nmisapprehension.\n\nCommunion under one kind, as at present practised in the catholic\nchurch, is ridiculed by Swift, who tells how my lord Peter locked up his\ncellars. Swift might have added to his buffoonery, by telling how the\nsame lord Peter, many hundred years before John or Martin were born or\nthought of, served no mutton to his wine. In the early ages, it was the\nuse to give the blessed Eucharist, under the species of wine only, to\nsick persons and to children. While inquiring on this subject, an\ningenious mistake of the Anglican translation of the Bible was pointed\nout to me: the Apostle says, \"he that eateth this bread _or_ drinketh\nthis cup of the Lord unworthily, is guilty of the body and blood of the\nLord:\" _or_ being altered into _and_, this text can no longer be quoted\nto justify communion under one kind: it still remains, however, a strong\nargument for the real presence, since it would be impossible to be\nguilty of the body and blood of the Lord, if they were there only in\nfigure. He who stabs the portrait of the prince commits an insolent\noutrage, but the prince is safe.\n\nWard's \"Errata to the Protestant Translation of the Bible\" is a book\nthat will set many matters right in the minds of those who are not\naverse from conviction. The author was obliged to fly his country on the\npublication of his work; as was Bishop Challoner, on account of \"Memoirs\nof Missionary Priests.\"\n\nOf the seven sacraments, two are retained under that name by the\nAnglican church: I had already proclaimed myself the advocate of what\nis, to all intents and purposes, the sacrament of penance. Confirmation\nis administered by a bishop, as among catholics. The form of giving\nbenediction by the imposition of hands is as ancient as the patriarch\nJacob, who thus blessed his grandsons, the sons of Joseph. Does any\nspiritual grace follow the blessing of the bishop? If so, it is a\nsacrament. The ordering of priests, in the church of England, is\nevidently sacramental; for the bishop, laying his hands on the person to\nbe ordained, bids him \"receive the Holy Ghost.\" Matrimony is called by\nthe apostle \"a great mystery;\" mystery is the Greek word for sacrament:\ngrace is required to sanctify so important a contract. The church of\nEngland celebrates it as a religious rite.\n\nThus far the dispute about the number of the sacraments seems to be a\n\"question of words and names.\" Extreme unction is totally rejected by\nthe church of England, because miraculous effects no longer follow the\nadministration of it. It is not very clear that restoration to bodily\nhealth is promised by the apostle, St. James, c. 5. v. 14.; but \"the\nprayer of faith shall save the sick man, and the Lord shall raise him\nup,\" may mean this, or may mean spiritual help; doubtless, however, the\npromise, \"if he be in sins they shall be forgiven him,\" authorises the\ncontinuance of this rite. I have also heard it observed, that it fails\nin that condition annexed to the definition of a sacrament in the\nAnglican catechism; it is not \"ordained by Christ himself.\" But, if it\nwas attended with miraculous effects, it is satisfactorily proved that\nthe apostle was sufficiently authorised in its institution.\n\nIf the church of England will believe purgatory to be \"a fond thing,\"\nfar from recommending the book of the Macchabees as good for an example\nof life, it ought not to allow it to be read in churches at all; for\nthere it is related that, after a victory, part of the spoil was sent to\nJerusalem that prayer might be offered for the dead, \"seeing it is a\ngood and wholesome thing to pray for the dead.\" This was a downright\npopish practice, justified by a popish reason. Thus All Souls College\nwas founded to pray for the souls of those slain at the battle of\nAgincourt. Of this ancient, this almost universal, this consolatory\npractice of praying for the dead, I shall say no more, than that it may\nbe inferred from the words of Christ, that sins are forgiven after\ndeath; since he says, \"all sins and blasphemies shall be forgiven to\nman,\" that is, are pardonable on repentance; \"but the sin against the\nHoly Ghost shall not be forgiven, neither in this world, nor in that\nwhich is to come.\" There are then sins that are forgiven in the world to\ncome: but when? immediately on the entrance of the soul into its future\nstate of existence? This would be equivalent to forgiveness in this\nworld. After a delay then? this delay is itself a purgatory.\n\nOn this head, the catholic church has defined simply that there is a\npurgatory, and that souls, therein detained, receive help from the\nsuffrages of the faithful: that this belief may be abused, does not\nprove it to be unfounded, or vain, or \"fond.\"\n\nMen abuse every thing, even the goodness and long-suffering of God. They\nrely on a death-bed repentance: they rely on purgatory. It is to be\nfeared that many, by the hope of heaven after purgatory, have been\nbetrayed into a state of final reprobation. On a death-bed repentance\nSt. Austin remarks, that there is but one instance of its assured\nsuccess,--that of the penitent thief; and he adds, very beautifully,\n\"unus erat, ne desperes; unus tantum, ne praesumas.\"\n\nThe Reverend Father O'Leary replied to an Irish bishop of the\nestablishment, who said to him, \"Mr. O'Leary, I do not like your\ndoctrine of purgatory,\"--\"My lord, you may go further, and fare worse.\"\n\nAmongst its thirty-nine articles, the Anglican church has one against\nworks of supererogation, for the purpose of casting a censure on\ncertain popish practices. The article bears a plausible show both of\nargument and humility; but the humility, taken as argument, proves too\nmuch, since it proves that our good works are useless to ourselves as\nwell as to others. I will give the reader an instance of a work of\nsupererogation, in which he will at least be at a loss to discover any\n\"impiety.\" My mother wrote to me at Oxford,--\"I went into a shop the\nother day to order some Gloucester cheese; a poor man was there, buying\na cheese for his family; I paid for it for him: for this, I hope, God\nwill bless _you_.\" My mother was no theologian, and suspected no more\nharm in giving an alms for me than in praying for me.\n\nEvery protestant, who thinks much about the matter, dresses up a certain\nbugbear in his own imagination, calls it popery, and holds it in horror.\nI had done thus, although my high-church principles had hindered me from\nsurcharging the phantom with the usual quantity of deformity. \"The\nExposition of the Catholic Faith,\" by Bossuet, is well adapted to show\nthe religion of our forefathers in its due proportions and real\nlineaments. I will own I was somewhat shocked at first to hear him talk\nof \"Messieurs de la pretendue reforme:\" I had not been used to be\ntreated so unceremoniously: but he could not help it; the reform was\neither pretended or real.\n\nThe council of Trent,--those decrees of the council of Trent which\nrelate to matters of faith, and which are very few in number, at least\ncomprised in few words; together with the catechism of the council of\nTrent, composed under the auspices of our countryman cardinal Pole,--are\nalso excellent works for setting such matters in a right point of view.\n\nI know many protestants who, if they would read these books, would be\nastonished at their own ignorance, which they have as yet neither\ndiscovered nor exposed, because they have talked only with each other,\nand have read books calculated rather to excite their passions than\ndispel their ignorance. Such a book is Chillingworth's.\n\nI had formerly been scandalized by the non-observance of the days of\nfasting and abstinence appointed by the church of England: I once got\nmyself laughed at for talking about it. Example and roast beef are\npowerful persuasives, and I continued to do as others did. While M.\nBeaumont was carrying on with me conversations tending to my conversion,\nhe called one morning at a house where, the breakfast not being removed,\nhe was civilly invited to eat something. He excused himself because it\nwas the season of Lent. The lady of the house said, \"We have no\nsuperstitious way of keeping Lent.\"--\"You keep it in your book, Madam.\"\nWhen M. Beaumont reported this to me, I observed, \"That pun would not do\nin French.\" He agreed, adding, \"They do not know what is fast; they know\nwhat is breakfast.\"\n\nAnother superstitious practice is the use of images: to set the people\nagainst this practice, and against those who practise it, the word\n\"image\" is lugged in at the beginning of the second commandment: in the\noriginal, the word is the participle passive of the verb, and ought to\nhave been translated \"graven thing,\" or \"any thing graven;\" but \"image\"\nwas good for the iconoclasti.\n\nBut I cannot pursue any further the railing and raillery continually\npoured forth in England against the religion which all England professed\nfor eight centuries; which those who converted our Saxon ancestors found\nto be the same as that professed by the ancient Britons in all points,\nexcept the time of the celebration of Easter; a conformity, which proves\nthe faith of the church to have been, through the early ages, perpetual,\nnot in respect to the Eucharist only, but in the whole body of its\ndoctrine. Let this argument be well weighed; it weighed much with me;\nand I think I shall be allowed to have made out a case, though I say\nnothing of indulgences, or celibacy, the invocation of the blessed\nVirgin and other saints, relics, or monastic vows, pilgrimages,\nceremonies, or holy water.\n\nI told M. Beaumont that, as he was subjected to the alien act, I would\nnot draw on him the responsibility of receiving my abjuration; that I\nwould go to town for the purpose of making it. Subsequent machinations\nagainst him proved my apprehensions to have been well-founded. He asked\nwhat I meant by my abjuration: \"You will abjure nothing; you will\ncontinue to believe all that you believe at present: but you can go to\nLondon, if you think right, and the bishop will appoint a priest to\nreconcile you to the church.\" On the 17th of May, 1798, I was present at\nhigh mass in St. Patrick's chapel: it was the feast of the Ascension. My\nemotion betrayed itself in tears which, in a man of my age, might be\nregarded as rather a violent symptom; but it called forth no indecorous\nsigns of surprise or curiosity in those near me. I forgot to inquire at\nthe sacristy the address of the bishop, and next morning found myself\nwalking in Hyde Park, alarmed at the step I was about to take, and\nalmost undecided. A friend, who was in my confidence, met me by chance,\nand, out of regard for my tranquillity, though a protestant, encouraged\nme to persevere. We turned into Grosvenor Square, and up Duke Street:\nold Mr. Keating informed us that the bishop lived at No. 4, Castle\nStreet, Holborn. \"We please ourselves by calling it the Castle.\" I\nparted from my friend, and proceeded to the Castle alone. An elderly,\nrather pompous, duenna-looking woman, opened the door of the house, for\nsuch it was; not the gate of a castle: his lordship was engaged, but I\nwas desired to walk into the dining-room, which, no doubt, served as an\nanti-room for want of any other. While I waited here, a French priest\ncame in, who, evidently alarmed at his approaching interview with the\nbishop, from whom probably he had \"something to ask or something to\nfear,\" inquired of me, \"Faut-il faire une genuflexion a Monseigneur?\"[1]\nI answered, that I was unacquainted with the ceremonial expected by\nMonseigneur; but that he, M. l'Abbe, had better do as he would on being\npresented to his own bishop. He took me for a countryman, but \"my speech\nbetrayed me.\" He was called for before me; this I thought unjust; but in\na few minutes after the bishop came in, and addressed me with, \"Qu'est-ce\nque vous demandez, Monsieur?\"[2] Again, thought I, my country is about\nto be lost to me; but let us hope for a better. I told Dr. Douglass the\npurport of my visit: he, seeing the affair was one not quickly to be\ndispatched, requested me to walk up stairs. We seated ourselves on each\nside of the fire in an old-fashioned wainscotted room with corresponding\nfurniture, the floor half covered by a well-worn Turkey carpet. On the\nwalls, yellow with smoke, hung portraits, which, through the soot that\nincrusted them, I hardly discerned to be ecclesiastical worthies;\nCardinal Allen, perhaps, founder of the college of Douay; a Campion, or\nArrowsmith, or other martyrs of the Reformation. A crucifix was set in a\nconspicuous place: over the chimney a little engraving of Pius VI, then\na prisoner. The bishop was a tall thin man, between sixty and seventy,\nof a healthy look, with a lively and good-natured countenance: he wore a\nsuit of black, not very fresh, with a little, close, white wig. Martinus\nScriblerus was proud of being able to form an abstract idea of a Lord\nMayor without his gold chain, or red gown, or any other _accidents_. I\nhad no difficulty in detecting the bishop in the plain man before me; for,\nbeing in his own house, he showed without reserve his pectoral cross, and\nI saw on his finger a ring in which was set an amethyst.\n\n\"This is a very important step, sir; no doubt you have given it due\nconsideration.\" I gave a succinct account of my studies and motives.\n\"May I ask, have you consulted your family and friends?\"--\"My parents\nare not living: I am their only surviving child. For my friends, I know\nbeforehand what they would say.\"--\"Are you aware of all the _civil_\nconsequences? The penal laws are repealed; but you will lose your _etat\ncivil_.\" I bowed my head. \"As you are in orders of the church of\nEngland, your conversion will excite more than ordinary surprise, and (I\nsay it only to warn you,) ill-will against you.\"--\"I trust not; people\nare sufficiently indifferent about such matters.\"--\"Perhaps you will\nlose some ecclesiastical benefice?\"--\"I have proceeded no further than\ndeacon's orders, and therefore have no preferment.\"--\"But your\nexpectations?\"--\"I must live without them.\"\n\nAfter a little more probing of this sort, and a short pause,--\"There is\na business which is very distressing to those who are not used to it,\nas it is very consoling to those who are; I mean confession: we all go\nto confession; I, who am bishop,--the pope himself. You know, I presume,\nthat you must begin by that?\"--\"I come to beg of your lordship to\nappoint me a priest.\" After a little consideration, \"Would you wish your\npriest to be an old man or a young one?\"--\"My lord, you know your\nsubjects better than I do: I leave the choice to you: his age is to me a\nmatter of indifference.\"--\"Many people think otherwise: however, if you\nwill be pleased to call here to-morrow at this hour, I will introduce\nhim to you.\" I took my leave without a genuflexion, but with a strong\nsentiment of respect and kindness for this worthy, amiable, old man.\n\nThe next day I found, in Castle Street, the Reverend Mr. Hodgson, one of\nthe priests of the chapel in St. George's Fields. Of him, as I do not\nknow but that he is still living, I shall only say, that I had every\nreason to be pleased and satisfied with his conduct and his counsels,\nand that I think of him with gratitude. I passed with him a part of\nevery morning of the following week, except Sunday and Thursday, at his\nhouse near the chapel; and in this chapel of St. George, on the 26th of\nMay, the feast of St. Augustin, apostle of England, was admitted into\nthe one fold, under the protection, as I humbly hope, of the one\nShepherd.\n\nBefore Mr. Hodgson took me to the altar, where I was to read, for this\npurpose, the creed of Pope Pius V, he inquired how baptism was\nadministered in the Church of England. I told him, by aspersion. He\nsaid, \"We have reason to believe that baptism is given with you\nsometimes very carelessly, and it is a rule to baptise conditionally\nevery convert under fifty years of age.\"--\"How do _you_ administer\nit?\"--\"By affusion; and the rule is, that there be so much water ut\ngutta guttam sequatur.\"--\"That was very probably not the case in my\nbaptism.\"--\"There are other ceremonies, not of the essence of the\nsacrament, which I shall omit.\" He added, \"Do not suppose that I\nquestion the validity of your baptism, if it were duly performed. Had\nyou been a Quaker--\" Even the grave circumstances in which I found\nmyself did not repress a slight movement of offended pride, at its being\nsupposed possible that I could have been a Quaker. \"Had you been a\nQuaker, I should have been sure that you were not baptized, and should\nnot even have received your confession.\"--\"But you do not allow the\norders of the Anglican church?\"--\"True: but even lay persons are not\nonly permitted, but enjoined to administer baptism, as an act of\nChristian charity, in case of necessity.\" Another distraction, as the\nFrench call it. Not having been used to belong to a tolerated and\ndespised sect, I had felt my bile rise at the word Quaker; and now\nmemory recalled the interesting scene in the \"Gerusalemme Liberata,\" the\nhelmet, the fountain, Tancred baptizing the dying Clorinda. I kneeled\ndown, however, and the priest poured water on my head, repeating at the\nsame time, \"Si non es baptizatus, Henrice, ego te baptizo in nomine,\"\n&c. I then made my profession of catholic faith, and was thus reconciled\nto the church. The next morning I received the blessed Eucharist from\nthe hands of the same priest.\n\nIt was Whitsunday: Bishop Douglass was to give confirmation in the\nchapel of Virginia Street. It was plain, for a reason above-stated, that\nI had not been confirmed. After breakfast, I walked with Mr. Hodgson\nover London Bridge, towards Ratcliffe Highway. It is usual for the\nperson confirmed, to be addressed by the bishop, either by his name of\nbaptism, or any other at his choice: I took the name of John, in honour\nof John, surnamed Chrysostom, to whom, as having removed the great\nobstacle _in limine_, I owed the beginning of my conversion. May the\ngood work be aided by his prayers!\n\nI have made my apology to the protestants of England, especially to\nthose with whom I was engaged, whose reform was conducted by the civil\npower, who are the national church. But, that a church is national is\ninconclusive in argument: a nation may be in possession of truth, but\ntruth is not national; and civil power enters for nothing into a\nquestion of religious truth. But justice is civil truth, the genuine\nattribute, the appropriate ornament, the best defence of civil power.\nLet the civil power cease to deprive of their civil rights those who\nadhere to that religion which the same civil power protected,\nencouraged, and maintained, from the time of Ethelbert of Kent, down to\nthe reign of the boy king, Edward the Sixth.\n\nThe religion of the people of Scotland is the established religion of\nScotland: a great principle is here recognised: truth is out of the\nquestion; for more than one religion cannot be true. Let the principle\nbe applied to Ireland: the people of that country still adhere to the\nancient faith; let it be established there for them: to make them good\nsubjects it is only necessary to treat them as such. Men quarrel not\nabout religion; there is nothing about which they are more indifferent,\nwhen the state does not quarrel with them about it; and every statesman,\nevery reader of history, knows that, for the uses of the state, the\ncatholic religion is at least as good as any other.\n\nExtravagant as this project of establishing the catholic religion in\nIreland will seem to those who \"like to hear reason when they are\ndetermined, because then reason can do no harm;\"--ridiculous, and even\ninsolent as it will appear to the maintainers of protestant\nascendency,--it is not my project, nor will I take on myself the\nundivided responsibility of it. It is the proposition of a much wiser\nman.\n\nWhen I lived at Lincoln, after the death of my mother, the celebrated\nWilliam Paley was sub-dean of the cathedral: I was in the habit of daily\nand familiar intercourse with him. One day, before one of those dinners\nwhich are given to the residentiary in a course as regular as that of\nthe dinners of the cabinet-ministers, the company was standing in a\ncircle round the fire; I stood next to Paley. He, almost pushing me out\nof the circle by a certain turn of his shoulder, to signify that what he\nwas about to say would not be said out of complaisance to me as a\ncatholic, while, at the same time he looked over his other shoulder to\nassure himself that I was listening,--Paley, I say, began to assert the\njustice, the expediency, and the utility of establishing by law in\nIreland the catholic worship, defending the measure by the arguments,\nand almost in the words set down by me; ending, by declaring himself\npersuaded that the catholic clergy of Ireland would be well contented\nwhen they were well paid, and the catholic population would, in that\nsupposed case, be as good subjects as they are every where else under\nthe same circumstances.\n\nThe greater part of Poland is subject to a schismatic; Silesia to a\nLutheran; the Low Countries, formerly Austrian, to a Calvinist: the\nsovereigns of those several countries have not yet taken away the\necclesiastical revenues from the catholic clergy, nor their civil rights\nfrom the catholic people.\n\nHaving made out a case, as I express myself above, I mention several\ntopics on which, for brevity's sake, I forbear to enlarge. I beg to be\nunderstood as having a due sense of the importance of these objects, of\neach in its kind, and as entertaining in regard to them the opinion held\nby the catholic church. I say this the rather, because many protestants,\nafter talking with me on religion, have found me, as they said, so\nreasonable, that they would not believe that I was really and truly a\npapist. The unreasonableness of the catholic faith exists only in the\nimagination of the protestants, who, in general, know nothing about it.\nOne of them asked me why the prayers were translated into Latin: I\nanswered, that the pope had ordered them to be subtracted in this manner\nfrom the curiosity of the good people of ----, naming the town nearest\nthe country residence of my interrogator. Another, a little perplexed on\nthe subject of unity, asked, \"What is the catholic church?\" as an\nanswer, I asked, \"What is the church of England?\" An Anglican clergyman\nput the question, \"What is the mass?\" I told him it was what he had\nengaged to oppose. He was a worthy, quiet man, and did not want to\noppose any thing.\n\nIn short, it is only from political causes that opposition, alienation,\nor dispute about this matter arise. Foreigners are astonished that a\nnation, so wise, so just, so tolerant as the English, should disqualify\none-third of its people from serving the state, and perpetuate\nanimosities which are laid at rest in every other country in Europe. The\nBaron ---- was the only man in France who saw through the whole matter\nat once: \"You have your interests of the Reformation, as we have ours of\nthe revolution.\"\n\nIt is a matter in which I have no interest but that of truth. I have\ngiven not as a polemic, but as a humble narrator, an account of my\nmotives and reasons for adopting as truth that which has been believed\nas such by the bulk and great majority of the Christian world in all\nnations and in all ages, from the foundation of Christianity. I have\ndone this in the hope of removing prepossessions, and to persuade the\nreader that he may accompany me abroad without any apprehension that I\nshall enter into controversy. Some extraordinary events are related in\nmy narrative, which a regard for truth has alone induced me to set down,\nat the risk of being considered as enthusiastic or superstitious.\nAgainst such an interpretation, formed on a view of part only of this\nwork, I am not afraid to appeal to the judgment of those who will take\nthe pains to read and consider the whole.\n\n _Ad Clari Montem.\n Clermont, en Auvergne. Clermont-Ferrand, Puy de Dome.\n 21st March, 1826._\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Is it necessary to bend the knee before his Lordship?\n\n[2] What is your pleasure, Sir?\n\n * * * * *\n\nFOUR YEARS\n\nIN\n\nFRANCE.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\nFOUR YEARS IN FRANCE.\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n\nThe English are assuredly a most enterprising and restless people: they\nform establishments at the Antipodes, and plant colonies on the banks of\nthe Loire, in an enemy's country, after a war of twenty years: their\nmerchant-vessels cover the seas, and their opulent and unoccupied gentry\ninundate the continent of Europe: their hardy mariners search out the\nnorth-west passage, and the idle and curious among them strive, with no\nless difficulty, to discover lakes, mountains, and cascades, unvisited\nby former adventurers,\n\n ------qua nulla priorum\n orbita.------\n\nEnglish reading-rooms are set up at Tours and in other great towns;\nEnglish seminaries of education are founded in France, Switzerland, and\nItaly; and English horse-races are exhibited at Naples. Fox-hunters and\nfox-hounds penetrate to covers where even the foxes never saw them\nbefore; where, coming from their holes, they gaze quietly upon them;\nwhere there is no sport, because no pursuit; no pursuit, because no\nflight; no flight, because no fear; no fear, because no experience of\nformer enmity.\n\nThe French calculated, with some degree of satisfaction, that, during\nthe occupation of their frontier by the army of observation, the English\nspent as much money at Paris as was contributed by themselves to the\nsupport of that army. At Florence, towards the end of the year 1822, I\nwas informed by good authority, that there were twelve thousand\nforeigners in the city, of whom seven thousand were English.\n\nBy a migration, very much resembling the flight of birds of passage,\nthey usually leave their country in the spring, and after a few weeks at\nParis, set off to pass the summer in Switzerland, arrive in Italy in the\nautumn, cross the Apennines before the winter; the beginning of which\nseason they spend at Florence: they go to Rome for the Carnival, to\nNaples for a month or five weeks of Lent, return to Rome for the holy\nweek, and then, much edified and instructed, they find their way home,\nduring the ensuing summer, through France or Germany. I asked Lady A. at\nRome, when she went to Naples: \"I don't know;--when the others go:\" so\nmuch is this route recognised as a matter of course.\n\nThe route is in truth admirably well traced, and eighteen months might\nthus be passed to great advantage by a well-prepared and impartial\ntraveller. Rarely however are these English sufficiently acquainted with\nthe languages of the countries through which they pass, to be able to\nsustain a conversation: they carry with them their insular prejudices,\ntheir pride of wealth, their unpliant manners, their attachment to their\nown customs, amusements, and cookery: though treated with indulgence and\neven civil attentions by the governments of the continent, they are\nsuffered, rather than received by the inhabitants. For their choice of\nthe objects of curiosity they visit, and the opinion to be formed upon\nthem, they are at the mercy of guides and ciceroni: for society, they\nare guided by instinct, and reduced by necessity, to herd together. An\nItalian lady at Florence opened her salon for the reception of a mixed\ncompany of Florentines and English: the English occupied, first one\ncorner, and then a whole side, of the salon, their numbers increasing,\nbut the chasm between them and the natives still remaining. The lady,\nfatigued with doing the honours of her house to two separate companies\non the same evenings, and disgusted with these appearances of distrust\nand resiliency, invented some decent pretext for receiving no more.\n\nObserving this propensity in the English to associate with each other,\nforeigners seem persuaded that Yorick alone did not quit England to seek\nEnglishmen. I was asked if I had been at Tours, because there were so\nmany of my countrymen there. \"My countrymen,\" said I, \"choose well;\nTouraine is said to be the garden of France.\" My interlocutor recurred\nto the idea with which he had first proposed the question. \"Il y a la\ntant de vos compatriotes.\"--\"Il y en a encore plus en Angleterre:\"[3]\nand Sterne's argument prevailed.\n\nMany persons of small incomes; many who wish to retrench their expenses,\nbut are ashamed of doing so at home; some for the purpose of having wine\nand fruit at a cheaper rate; and some for the sake of a better\nclimate,--pass several years abroad, fixed at the place of their\nfirst choice, or travelling but little, and at great intervals of time.\nThe economical residents abroad seldom proceed further from home than to\nthe towns near the southern shore of the channel, and to those on the\nbanks of the Loire. Some parents take their children abroad to enable\nthem to acquire the use of those living languages, which, though very\ngenerally taught, are very rarely learned in England. Excluded from the\ngreater part of the continent of Europe during twenty years of\nrevolution and of war, English travellers had been obliged to waste\ntheir activity in voyages to the western isles of Scotland, or in\npicturesque tours to the Giant's Causeway, or the Lake of Killarney:\nsome cooled their ardour amid the snows of Scandinavia, and others\nroused their classical enthusiasm by the view of Salamis and Thermopylae:\nsome measured the Pyramids of Egypt, others performed pilgrimages to the\nHoly Land. The peace of Amiens opened to them, though but for a few\nshort months, the road to Paris, and the gallery of the Louvre, enriched\nwith the spoils of nations.\n\nIt is not forgotten how, on the rupture of that peace, they were\narrested, throughout the whole extent of the French republic and its\ndependencies, and detained as prisoners of war, in reprisal of the\nseizure of French ships and citizens throughout the maritime empire of\nEngland: succeeding English travellers, twelve years later, remembered\nit well: the crowds, again attracted to Paris on the restoration of the\nking, fled in all directions on the landing of Napoleon from Elba.\n\"Pourquoi me fuient-ils?\" said he: \"je ne me repete pas.\"[4]\n\nPerhaps the outlawry fulminated against him by the congress of Vienna\nwould have been as good a reason for doing again what he had done\nbefore, as the sweeping the seas without declaration of war was alleged\nto be on the former occasion: perhaps he regretted the failure of a\nsecond opportunity of retorting on England, in this way, the hatred and\ninsult with which he had ever been treated by its government. At any\nrate, the distrust of the English travellers was founded on experience,\nand the reproach conveyed in this manifestation of it was answered by an\ningenious, spirited, and in some sort conciliatory pleasantry.\n\nAfter the battle of Waterloo, the travellers, some of whom had retired\nno further than to the Low Countries, followed in the train of the\nvictorious, and invading armies: all were impatient to return to Paris;\nin truth their impatience was not without good cause. All the monuments\nof the fine arts were now to be dispersed: the _fruits of victory_\ndeposited at Paris were soon to be restored to their former owners.\n\nIt was evidently the interest of England, that this superb collection\nshould remain within three days journey of London; but the principle\n\"suum cuique\" forbad it. Yet the republic of Genoa had the same right to\nits ancient constitution as to the far-famed emerald dish, which I saw\nin the Hotel de Ville at Genoa, with a piece broken out of it. The union\nof the littoral to the dominion of Sardinia is an advantage to both\nparties: but then what becomes of the principle which dictated the\nrestitution of the emerald dish?\n\nNotwithstanding the necessity thus imposed on our travellers of\nwandering all over Europe in search of objects once assembled near their\nown doors,--the nations of the continent are not too much inclined to\nbelieve in the _bonhommie_ of English politicians; nor indeed can it be\ncertainly known how far their good will was an ingredient in this, so\ncalled, act of justice.\n\nSince the second restoration of the King of France, peace, and the\nvisits of the English to the countries to which ingress is no longer\nprohibited, have continued without interruption: residence abroad has\nassumed an appearance of stability and design. An outcry has been raised\nin England against these emigrations, and it has been proposed to tax\nabsentees; a measure which, in its application to those who take a\njourney for a few months, would be at once vexatious and ridiculous, and\nin its operation on those who retire abroad on account of contracted\nincome, would be severe and unproductive; and which could, in neither\ncase, be effected without a partial income-tax. The number of travellers\nand residents abroad, though great, has been much exaggerated: wherever\nexact inquiry has been made, it has turned out to be less than was\nreported. I could not hear of more than six or eight English families\nresident by the year in each of the three great towns of Italy,\nFlorence, Rome, and Naples.\n\nThe French, persuaded that society can no where else be so well enjoyed\nas in France, feel little inclination to travel. The Italians, satisfied\nthat all that is best worth beholding both in art and nature is to be\nfound on their side of the Alps, seldom take the trouble of passing that\nbarrier. I speak of the same class of persons, in both nations, as that\nin which the English traveller is to be found,--the rich and idle; for\nthe poorer French and Italians are more adventurous, and more frequently\nleave their own country to gain their living abroad, than those of the\nlower condition of life in our sea-girt isle. I have therefore\nfrequently been called upon to explain the phenomenon of the British\nspirit of excursion. My friends at Avignon could hardly believe that\ncuriosity, the desire of instruction, the purpose of employing usefully\na portion of time which would otherwise be employed in the ordinary\nroutine of life, were motives sufficient for incurring the expense,\ntrouble, and risk of long journeys: the expense, they allowed, might be\na consideration of no importance to a people so rich as the English;\nbesides, they travelled cheaper in France than in England; yet it would\ncost still less to stay at home: the defiance of fatigue and danger were\nvery gravely accounted for by the supposition of something peculiar to\nthe English character, a certain restlessness and locomotive propensity,\nwhich dislodged them from the centre of repose, and impelled them to\nwander in wide and extravagant orbits. The astonishment of the\nAvignonais was excessive, when a lady, who intended to pass some years\nin the south of France, coming to visit my family, and changing her\npurpose, returned to Paris within a fortnight. \"Les Anglois font tout\nce qu'ils veulent: un voyage de trois cents lieues pour une visite de\nquinze jours.\"[5] Like the rustic in the fable, they waited to see the\nend of this current of travellers; and I could hardly obtain credit when\nI assured them that, though some extraordinary degree of expansion was\nto be expected after twenty years compression, yet when the present\ngeneration should cease, the succeeding one would still supply the\nstream.\n\nMay this stream still hold on in an equal and uninterrupted course; may\nno wars arrest it; no jealousies divert it; no disgusts dry up its\nsource! The division of mankind into nations is the great calamity of\nthe human race. War, with all its horrors, and all its crimes, (for\ncrimes there must be; since no war can be just on both sides, and may on\nboth sides be unjust,) war, with all its inflictions, is the first great\nevil arising from this separation of those who ought, as creatures and\nsons of the same Creator and Father, to be \"a band of brothers.\" From\nwar results that other great evil, seen in the administration of the\ninternal concerns of each country; the government being of necessity\nentrusted, for the defence of the people, with the power of the sword,\nthe people are governed by the sword of power. Hostile prejudices, the\nstrife of interests ill understood, false judgments, and the jargon of\nlanguages mutually unintelligible, fears, suspicions, and precautions\nperpetuate the evil of disunion when the work of havoc and desolation\nis suspended. Short and feverish are the periods of suspension: they are\nput out to inestimable profit when the means are employed of making the\nseveral peoples of the earth better known to each other, of softening\nasperities, removing misunderstandings, and conciliating mutual\ngood-will.\n\nSuch ought to be, over and above the peculiar advantage and pleasure of\neach individual traveller, the object of foreign travel. To the\nfurtherance of this object it is hoped that this account of a long\nresidence in France and Italy may in some slight degree contribute: it\nis written without prepossession, in good-will towards the people I have\nvisited, in the conviction that human nature, though not virtuous, is in\nall countries capable of, and inclined to virtue. For variety of usages,\nwhich makes men appear more alien from each other than they really\nare,--either it regards things indifferent, or there exists a good\nreason for it, which observation enables us to discover. To me in truth\nthis difference in European customs appears so slight, that, were it not\nfor the language, I could easily forget that I was abroad. \"Omne solum\nforti patria:\" but it requires still more fortitude to have no _patria_\nat all, as is the case of an English catholic: for political rights are\nincluded in the idea of _patria_.\n\nHaving lived between three and four months in Paris, and between three\nand four years in the south of France with my family, I have made\nobservations, which I hope may be useful to those who have the same plan\nof foreign residence or travel, and not less interesting, both to them,\nand to those who are content with their English home, than the remarks\nof a more hasty tourist. The care of a household and of the education of\nchildren brings the head of a family to the knowledge of many\ncircumstances and combinations which escape the notice of the single\ntraveller; and intercourse with the society of a place during a sojourn\ngives some insight into the character, some perception of the manners\nand opinions of a people.\n\nI have also lived three years and a half in Italy, of which country I\nseem to myself to have much to say; but for reasons that may be\nconjectured by the reader of this book, I defer my Italian narrative\ntill the present work shall have undergone the judgment of the public.\nMeantime, this is a separate composition, and independent of any thing I\nmay hereafter write on Italy.\n\nI have lived so long in the world, that, although, from motives of\ncharity, I wish to have the good report of all, few remain for whose\ncommendation I am anxious, even as an author. I think it right however,\nto request the reader's indulgence for a style of writing by no means\ncurrent or easy,--a fault owing to the habitual, daily use of two, or\neven three languages: often does the foreign phrase present itself, and\nthen the English one is to be sought for. I have besides, for these last\neight years, had but a very sparing intercourse with English literature.\n\nFor the sake of obviating misconstruction of my occasional remarks on\npolitical subjects, I think it right, in this introductory chapter, to\nmake a few general observations on the French revolution. I detest, or\nobtest, against all revolutions, for two reasons: change of forms and\nnames, and, generally speaking, of persons even, does not always produce\na change of principles or of conduct; tyrannical democracies and\nbenevolent despotisms are no new things in the history of the world:\nsecondly, revolutions cannot change the condition of the great bulk of\nmankind, of persons without property, of the poor: poor they must be;\nfor property is necessary to the existence of society; work they must,\nbecause they are poor. A man of this class at Paris, whom I wanted to\nengage to talk on the late revolution, cut short the matter by saying,\n\"pour nous autres, on ne demande a nous qu'a travailler.\"[6] That some\nof them may benefit by a political change, proves nothing against the\nuselessness of such a change to them, considered as, what they are in\neffect, the mass of mankind, and in reference to the continued duration\nof the social state.\n\nOn the 23d of June, 1789, Louis XVI offered to the states-general a\nconstitution very much resembling the charter since given by Louis\nXVIII. What has the French nation gained by the refusal of the Etats\nGeneraux, to accede to the project of this _seance royale_? Their church\nis impoverished; they are endeavouring to form an aristocracy, of which\ndestruction has hardly left them the elements; and the number of\nelectors,--of persons represented,--is now much smaller than it would\nhave been in the Etats Generaux. Since that day, little permanent\nadvantage has been obtained, except the abolition of feudal rights; but\nof these, exemption from taxation had been abandoned; all that was unjust\nor grievous besides, would soon have followed. A deficit of fifty millions\nof francs caused the revolution; and in its consequence it has trebled the\ntaxes: it rejected titles and ribands as unworthy of the dignity of man,\nand it has produced a second set of nobles, and a new order of knighthood.\n\nTrue liberal principles cannot be disgraced; like religion, they may be\nthe pretext, but are not the cause of excesses and of crimes; but the\nconduct of the revolution has retarded their spread and influence, by\nmaking every wise and prudent man afraid to trust to the professors of\nthem. After the perpetration of horrors, on which the human mind cannot\nbear to look fixedly, a military despotism is quietly submitted to, as\nif nothing but, \"res novae,\" new wealth, new power, had been sought for.\n\n ------\"Ubi nunc facundus Ulysses?\"\n\nThe leaders of the revolution and of the republic did not recognise the\ntrue limit of civil authority: it has nothing to do but to defend the\nstate against foreign enemies, and the citizens against each other:\nwhatever government attempts to do more, only supplies means of vexation\nto subordinate agents. They tyrannised over the religious and political\nconscience of the people by the civil constitution of the clergy, who,\nwhen their property was taken away, ought to have been let alone; by\npersecutions which belied the tolerance of philosophy; by oaths of\nhatred of royalty, which kept up the memory of the cowardly murder of\nthe king,--that aping of the English under circumstances totally\ndifferent. War, after the promulgation of perpetual peace, seemed\ninterminable; and the offer to assist all nations in the recovery of\nliberty, was seen to be a scheme for domineering in all nations by means\nof civil dissension.\n\nThese things prepared the way for Napoleon Bonaparte, whose elevation\nwas, at first, by no means unpopular in Europe. He must be admired by\nthe present age, and by posterity, as a great man: he offered himself as\npacificator, and in a few years subjected a hundred millions of\nEuropeans: such a force as this,--the arts, the knowledge, and by\nconsequence, the power of those whom he commanded taken into the\naccount,--no man ever yet had wielded. \"He gave not God the glory:\" in\nthis he was not alone; such was, such is, the spirit of the age: his\nfall was caused by the coming on of the snow and frost in Russia a week\nor fortnight sooner than usual. History records nothing equal to his\nelevation and his fall. That fall must be dated at the retreat from\nMoscow; the rest was but the struggle of the dying lion. The French\nrevolution seems like a bloody tragedy, after the representation of\nwhich, the actors put on their every-day clothes, and resume their\nordinary occupations: it has disappointed the hopes of the\nphilanthropist, and delayed the effect of the moral revolution, prepared\nlong before, and working in the minds of enlightened men. This sort of\nrevolution is the only one that can be permanent or beneficial to\nmankind. Christianity itself is, in its influence on civil society, a\nrevolution of this sort, and, in respect to this life only, has done\nincalculable good.\n\nThe great results of the French revolution are to be looked for beyond\nthe Atlantic. Owing to the distracted state of Europe, a continent, more\nabounding than the old world in the means of prosperity and power, is\nbecome independent: the slaves of Hayti have broken their chains, and\nmay carry civilization and freedom to the country of their origin. Yet\nanother century, and Europe itself may sink into comparative\ninsignificance. But let the wise and virtuous unite in opinion; and\nEurope, though no longer the proprietor, may still be the teacher of the\nnew world, and in the old may aid suffering humanity.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] \"There are so many of your countrymen there.\"--\"There are still more\nof them in England.\"\n\n[4] \"Why do they run away from me? I do not do the same thing twice\nover.\"\n\n[5] \"The English do whatever they have a mind to: a journey of three\nhundred leagues for a visit of a fortnight!\"\n\n[6] As for us, nothing is required of us but that we should work.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n\nOn the 23d of April, which the English now know to be the feast of St.\nGeorge, though, before the accession of King George IV. who observes\nthat day as his birth-day, few of them knew the name of their patron or\nthe day of his feast; \"such honour have the saints\" in England;--on that\nday, in the year 1818, I arrived with my two sons at Southampton, on the\nshore of that sea, which on the morrow was to separate me from my native\ncountry.\n\nThe son of the captain (for by courtesy he is called captain,) of the\nChesterfield packet came to us at the Dolphin Inn, and informed us that\nthe tide would serve at two o'clock the next afternoon. We had hastened\nthrough rain and darkness, during the last stage, with a grumbling\npostilion; for, though we knew the day, we knew not the hour of\nembarkation. The time we had to spare we might have passed more\nagreeably at Winchester. Southampton, a very pretty town, is so\nregularly built, that we had time more than enough to see it, and not\nenough to go to enjoy the beautiful view from the heights which command\nthe bay, the channel between Hampshire and the Isle of Wight, and the\nisle itself. All this, however, we saw from the deck of our vessel, more\nadvantageously than in what is called a bird's-eye view, which is only\nuseful when necessary for peeping into the inside of amphitheatres, and\nthe hollows of ravines and craters.\n\nOur travelling trunks were sent to the custom-house. A year before,\nowing to a discussion concerning cotton yarn, which Mr. Brougham may\nperhaps remember, an old lady, of seventy years of age, had been\ndespoiled of a pound of cotton thread which she was taking with her to\namuse herself with knitting: the stockings or garters thus fabricated\nshe would have brought back to England, without the least injury to its\nmanufacturing interests. But, on such important occasions, how can\ndiscretionary powers be entrusted to custom-house officers? We, being\nnot knitters of stockings, on this occasion, had the good fortune to\nexcite very little of their curiosity. They did not even wish us a good\nvoyage.\n\nA boat conveyed us to the packet: we set sail, if setting sail it might\nbe called, when there was hardly wind to swell the canvass. The air was\nsultry, the sky was cloudy; and when we had cleared the Isle of Wight,\nand night was coming on, there was every appearance of an approaching\nstorm: Captain Wood even allowed that there might be \"a puff.\" I admired\nthe self-possession he maintained, notwithstanding the troublesome\nquestions put to him, and expressions of fear and anxiety from the\npassengers: answering every one with the greatest civility, he yet never\nturned aside from the conduct of the vessel. \"It is silly in us,\ncaptain, to disturb you thus: we might trust to you.\"--\"Sir, my son and\nI are on board: the vessel cost me three thousand pounds.\" I drew the\ninference desired, and left him.\n\nWith every inclination, after the event, to begin my book with a\ndescription of a storm at sea, as Virgil begins his AEneid, I forego this\nattempt at amusing my reader, for two reasons: without the machinery of\nJuno, AEolus, and Neptune, the storm even of Virgil would hardly be\nraised in dignity above a common occurrence; and next, because _my\nstorm_ was really a very moderate one, hardly sufficient to excite that\ndegree of terror in me, and of pity in others, which is necessary to\nsublimity. In sober guise then, I have to relate that it rained,\nlightened, and thundered; but thunder at sea, I remarked, is not so loud\nas thunder heard on land, re-echoed by houses and buildings: and\nlightning in that vast space does not seem so directly aimed at one, as\nwhen flashed into one's face through the narrow boundary of a window.\nThe rolling of the sea was not very violent; but the wind drove us out\nof our course, and we found ourselves, in the morning, to the eastward\nof Fecamp. We could with the greatest ease have entered the port of\nDieppe: I proposed to the captain to do so; but his affairs and his port\npapers, which this little stress of weather was not a sufficient excuse\nfor contravening, recalled him to Havre. The other passengers also were\ndesirous of landing at Dieppe; but rules and regulations,--a phrase\nwhich I translated into English for the benefit of a certain provincial\nbook club, which had thus entitled its by-laws, rules, and\n_rulations_,--at every step vexatiously and uselessly embarrass the\nintercourse of mankind.\n\nIn the present case we had to employ sixteen hours in working our way\nback again towards Havre. The voyage was, however, pleasant. We were,\nall the while, almost within a stone's throw of the French coast: we\ntalked with several fishermen: we seemed to be all but landed. The\nclouds, which had so thickly covered the sky, and poured down so much\nrain the preceding night, had passed away to the eastward. In the\nafternoon, a brilliant rainbow was stretched across the channel, and\nseemed to unite, by an aerial arch, the countries of France and England.\nOur impatience was put to the proof by a calm, which arrested our\nprogress for two hours: the elements seemed to have conspired to treat\nus with a specimen of every sort of weather that can be experienced at\nsea. At last a breeze sprung up; slowly we crept along towards the mouth\nof the Seine; and a quarter of an hour before midnight entered the port\nof Havre, after a voyage of thirty-two hours, the latter half of which\nwas useless to my purpose of coming to France, and would have been\ndangerous had the storm come on again, as we were close on the rocks,\nand had very little sea-room.\n\nThe passage by Dover takes the traveller from London to Paris about a\nhundred miles out of his way. Brighton is the point of the English coast\nnearest to Paris; but, though the opposite harbour of Dieppe is good,\nthe embarkation and disembarkation at Brighton is exposed to all the\nviolence of the winds and waves. The passage from Southampton may be\nperformed in ten hours, and Havre is very little further than Dieppe\nfrom the capital of France.\n\nBefore we entered the harbour, our steward descended to extinguish a\nlarge lamp that burnt in the cabin: he gave us (that is, to me and my\nsons) our choice of going on deck, or staying below in the dark: we\nloitered, and were punished afterwards for our delay by breaking our\nshins against the cabin stairs. The vessel was not allowed to enter the\nport with a light on board; a lantern is hung out on the prow. The use\nof the lantern is evident: it is not quite so clear why our lights were\nto be put out: against an accidental fire this was no sufficient\nprecaution; had we wished to set our vessel in a state of conflagration,\nand run her amongst the French shipping, nothing was requisite but a\ntinder-box, or a gallipot of phosphorus. Regulations seem to be made\nsometimes, in order that those who are in employment may have something\nto do: work is invented for places, instead of places being created on\naccount of work.\n\nWe waited some little time for the officer of the port, who was to\nreceive our passports. I stood on the deck, and looked around on the\nlight-house, the shipping, and the lights from the windows; heard the\nmixture of French and English bandied in talk between us on board and\nthose on shore, and was delighted with these assurances that we were\nrestored to human life and society, and no longer tossed on the sea,\nwhere, as Homer says, there are no vintages. I quote this expression,\nnot because I am insensible to the beauty of a poetical amplification,\nbut for three reasons: first, to show my learning,--a motive which I by\nno means approve, but leave it to be appreciated by other authors:\nsecondly, because this epithet conveys precisely the reason of my\ndislike of sea voyages: Edie Ochiltre says, \"the worst of a prison is,\nthat one can't get out of it;\" and I say, the worst of the sea is, that\nit is not dry land; an objection in both cases essential and fatal:\nthirdly, I wish to make a remark, which has, I believe, escaped all\nformer commentators,--that Homer had probably no more notion of lands in\nwhich there were no grapes, than the African prince of walking on the\nsurface of a river.\n\nThe tide had raised our deck to the level of the quay: the clock struck\ntwelve; it was now the anniversary of the birth of my younger son, and\nwe set our feet on the soil of France. The other passengers had\nannounced their intention of going, in a mass, to the English inn, where\na part of my family, three months later, found, what was to be expected,\nhigh charges; and, what was not to be expected, plenty of bugs. Fearing\na contest for beds amongst such a number, (for there were ten or twelve\nof us,) and the delay of getting them ready for so many, I went to the\nHotel de la Ville du Havre, recommended by Captain Wood, who conducted\nus thither, roused the sleeping family, introduced, and left us! M. and\nMadame Marre appeared in night-cap and dressing-gown, very much\nresembling (I say it with all due respect for very worthy persons,) the\ncaricatures of French physiognomy exhibited in our print-shops. Madame\nMarre told the chamber-maid to show me the beds: I went up stairs, and\non my return was asked if I was contented with what the \"bonne\" had\nshown me. I have heard of an old lady who was very much offended by\nbeing called good woman; and the expression \"la bonne\" appeared to me a\ncontemptuous one: such a novice was I, that I looked at the girl to see\nwhether she took it as an affront or a compliment; she was quite\nunmoved. I told the mistress that the three beds were very good, and\ndesired to see the sheets: they were more than damp; they might be said\nto be wet: to have them aired at one in the morning was out of the\nquestion; our resource was to do without them for that night. I know an\nEnglish family who, arriving early in the evening at an inn in France,\nand, as a matter of course, ordering the sheets to be aired, were\ncharged, the next morning, five francs for fire-wood. Our sheets were\naired, on the next day, without any instructions on our part to that\neffect, according to the custom of the country, _au soleil_.\n\nThis sun enabled us to sit at an open window during our breakfast: for\nthis meal we had French rolls, excellent Norman butter, and cafe au\nlait. The coffee usually served in England is considered by the French\nas no better than coffee and water; what was now furnished to us was so\nstrong, that, though mixed with an equal quantity of boiling milk, it\nhad more of the taste of coffee than I have found in what was called\nvery good coffee at those splendid and fatiguing assemblies, which the\nladies call routs, at Bath and other towns,--where, in order that four\npersons may amuse themselves at whist in a creditable way, forty others\nare crowded together for the same laudable purpose.\n\nIt was Sunday: we went to mass: the church was crowded to excess: so\nmany churches have been confiscated to the use of the nation, that, in\nthe great towns, not enough of them remain for the use of the people. We\nwent to the port to inquire after our trunks: it was low water; and our\npacket-boat, which rode so high in the night, was now hardly afloat: we\nwent down into it by a ladder, and found that our goods had been sent\nto the custom-house: thither we bent our steps: the officer attended, a\nsmart young man in a military dress: he ascertained the nature of the\ncontents of my boxes, and the object of my journey, and gave no\nunnecessary trouble: he talked much of English commerce, and did not\naffect to conceal his satisfaction that it was \"ecrase par les\nimpots.\"[7] I ought therefore to believe in the sincerity of his wishes,\nthat my journey in France might be as agreeable and advantageous as I\nmyself desired. I now had to disengage myself from three out of five\nstout porters, who stood in readiness to bear away my two hair trunks\nand writing-desk: I told them, two men could carry the whole: they\nassured me it was impossible. I then endeavoured to get rid of one at\nleast of the five, by placing the writing-desk on one of the trunks,\nmaking a civil leave-taking sign, at the same time, to the man who\nseemed to consider the desk as his share in this weighty matter: the man\nanswered me by a low reverence, and by taking the desk under his arm;\nthe other four seized each the ring of a trunk, and all set off at full\nspeed to the inn. Nothing remained but to follow, and pay them according\nto their number.\n\nOur passport, granted by the Marquis d'Osmond, the French ambassador at\nthe English court, allowing us to circulate freely within the kingdom of\nFrance, had been forwarded to Paris, and we were to receive another for\nthe limited purpose of following our passport. I had not found the\nBureau open: this was no inconvenience, as I intended to rest this day\nat Havre. M. Marre gave us a very good dinner, at three francs a head,\nand claret at the same price a bottle: he sat down with us, and did the\nhonours, and animated the conversation, \"like any other gentleman.\"\nAmong the company was a priest, who showed at once his gratitude and his\ndiscontent, by telling me that the English government, which had taken\nnothing from him, allowed him, during his emigration, a larger pension\nthan the French government now paid him, though it was in possession of\nthe property of which he had been deprived: he forgot that the\nspoliators and those who compensated were different parties; that in\n1818, nothing was left of the _biens nationaux_ of 1789.\n\nWe viewed the town and the port, and saw nothing particularly\nremarkable, but the great number of parrots hung at doors and windows,\nand crying out--\"damn\" and \"damn your eyes.\" Their voyage from the\ntropics had been performed under English auspices. Havre is a great\ndepot of colonial produce; and this bird may probably be in great demand\nin a nation, so loquacious as we, in our vulgar prejudices, suppose the\nFrench to be. The commerce of the place assumed at this time a great\ndegree of activity in objects of more importance than parrots, however\naccomplished. But the day was a day of rest.\n\nThe next morning I went to the Bureau de Police for my passport: the\nCommissaire, for reasons or from feelings best known to himself, desired\nme to call again in two hours. I have seen many instances of the hatred\nof the French towards the English, which the imperial government had\nexcited to the utmost degree of intensity, and which did not begin to\nsubside till the removal of the army of observation. M. le Commissaire,\nI suspect, indulged in a little ebullition of this unamiable sentiment:\nin vain I represented that my passport had been in his office the whole\nof the preceding day, during which I had called there three times: this\nseemed to increase his triumph; and he coolly, though very civilly,\nrepeated his request that I would call again in two hours.\n\nHe procured for us a very pleasant walk on the hills, which command a\nview of the town, the mouth of the Seine, and the channel. The trees, in\nthis land of cyder, were in full blossom; the rye was in ear; all seemed\nto be a month earlier than in the northern region we had left a week\nbefore, when we quitted our home. We entered the church; the parish is\ncalled St. Vic: I was surprised to see the exact resemblance of this\nchurch to those edifices, the remains of former times, which, in our\nvillages, are opened once a week for divine worship: the altar and\nimages excepted, it was the same sort of interior: there was indeed the\nholy water pot, but of that the trace at least is to be found in almost\nall our old churches: but the images; ay, there was St. Denis, with his\nhead, not under his arm, but held between his hands. On this I shall\nonly remark, that he who, on account of the legend of St. Denis,\nbelieves the catholic religion to be false, may deceive himself in a\nmatter of the greatest moment; whereas he who believes the legend to be\ntrue, may be deceived, but in a matter of no moment at all.\n\nA farmer's lad, of about fourteen, came up to us in the church-yard, and\nentered into a conversation, which he conducted without bashfulness, and\nwith the greatest propriety. He told us, that mass was said every\nmorning at break of day, and that the peasantry attended it before\ngoing to their labour. He talked of the principal tombs before us, and\nof the families in two or three large houses within our view: he asked\nquestions respecting England, where, he supposed, there were no poor,\nbecause he had never seen any: undeceived on this point, he inquired\nafter the state of these poor, with marks of fellow-feeling; what wages\nthey gained: and when I, in my turn, was informed of the wages and price\nof bread in his country, and showed him, that though the Englishman\ngained more sous, the Frenchman gained more bread, he clearly\napprehended the nature of the case, pitying at the same time those who\nhad less bread to eat than he had himself. He took leave of us, and\ncertainly had not the least expectation of a present to make him drink:\nthat we were strangers,--that we talked his language with\ndifficulty,--all that would have repelled an English peasant,--excited\nhis curiosity, and even his good-will.\n\nWe returned to the town, found a commis who expedited our passport in\nfive minutes, and went to take our places in the Paris diligence. A\nwoman gave me a receipt for my _arrhes_. I told her it would save\ntrouble to include my luggage in the same receipt. \"When you shall have\nsent it, sir,\" was the answer. A distinguishing character of the French\nis exactness; in criticism, in style of writing, in calculation, in\naffairs, they are exact. I give my own opinion, not perhaps that of\nothers.\n\nIt was the first of the Rogation days, which an Anglican may see, in his\nbook of common-prayer, noted as days of abstinence. M. Marre, profiting\nby the neighbourhood of the sea, gave us a very fine turbot, part of a\ngood dinner, at which appeared some dishes of meat. I paid my bill,\n(about fifty francs for three persons during two days,) and took my\ndeparture, but was arrested, in my way to the diligence, in a curious\nmanner. I had given a franc to a boy for taking my two trunks in a\nwheel-barrow a short distance to the coach-office; _Boots_, at an inn in\nEngland, would have been contented with a sixpence; but the _porte-faix_\nof the _douane_ had admonished me of the high expectations from English\nwealth and generosity. The father of this boy stopped me in the street;\ncharged me with having robbed his son by paying only one franc instead\nof three, to which he had a right; threatening to take me before the\ncommissary of police, \"who,\" said he, \"will put you in prison.\" He acted\nhis part very well; he could not have been more angry, had I in reality\ncommitted an act of injustice towards so dear a part of his family as\nthis son, dressed, like himself, in a stout jacket of English fustian,\nand the heir apparent of all his impudence, who took his share in the\nscene by barring the passage to my elder son, not so stout, though\nrather taller than himself. I dreaded some act of vivacity on the part\nof my son, and called out to him at all events to be quiet. The boy of\nthe inn, who carried my writing-desk and great coats, had no need of\nsuch a caution. My younger son, now in the first day of his thirteenth\nyear, though alarmed by the hubbub, had the sense to see that the only\nway to get out of the affray was to pay the man, and begged me to do so.\nThe clock struck five, the hour of the departure of the diligence,--a\ncircumstance which made compliance with this sage counsel no longer a\nmatter of choice, and on which the man had calculated with more reason\nthan on the assistance of the police. After all, the lad was not much\nbetter paid than the _porte-faix_ of the _douane_, who had attacked me\nonly with the smell of garlic and tobacco, issuing from their mouths\ntogether with bad French. So much for Havre, _ci-devant, de Grace_.\n\nWe found the diligence to be a convenient and even handsome public\ncarriage, made to hold six persons within, and three in the cabriolet\nor covered seat attached to it in front: at first, we had all this space\nto ourselves. After about an hour's ride, we got out of the coach to\nwalk up a steep hill, and took our last leave of the semblance of\nEnglish landscape. France and Italy offer no views of luxuriant\npastures, with herds and flocks grazing in them, of trees irregularly\nplanted, of enclosures unequally distributed, of fine swelling clouds\nhanging in the horizon,--themselves a beautiful object, and adding\nvariety of light and shade to the picture. These we were to exchange for\nvines, like bushes, planted in rows, or trained in festoons from one\npollard elm to another; for the pale leaf of the olive, for skies almost\nalways cloudless, for fields abundant in produce, but without any thing\nliving or moving in them. But we were as yet unable to make the\ncomparison. As night came on, we took up other passengers who were going\nto a short distance: they were Normans; at least such I judged them to\nbe from the great breadth of their bases, which took up a considerable\nspace on the seats of the coach: in manners as well as in form they were\ndifferent from Frenchmen; they were not indeed reserved, they had no\n_mauvaise honte_, but they were rude and selfish. The French proverb\nhowever says, and it is certainly right, \"il y a des honnetes gens\npartout, meme en Normandie;\"[8] a proverb, cited by way of reprisal for\na saying reported by a Norman; in contempt of the people of Champagne;\n\"quatre-vingt dix-neuf moutons et un Champenois font cent bonnes\nbetes.\"[9] It is curious to find jokes, like our own on Yorkshire\nhonesty and Gloucestershire ingenuity, repeated in a foreign land.\n\nTo return to the country through which I am passing; the Normans are\nsaid to be very litigious; in proportion to the frequency of the\ndiscussion of questions of _meum_ and _tuum_, are the illegal attempts\nat appropriating what belongs to another; an offence which the law calls\ntheft, and punishes capitally. It seems that, before the Revolution,\nthis capital punishment was administered at the gallows; a machine of\nwhich our Norman conqueror brought with him perhaps a model into\nEngland,--an excellent subsidiary to the curfew, as lately tried in\nIreland; for our Saxon legislators are recorded to have hung offenders\non trees, but I am ignorant that any proof exists of their having\ncontrived a gallows.\n\nThe invention of the guillotine was a still further improvement; but,\neither from dislike to the shedding of blood, or from attachment to\nlong-established modes, the Normans are said to have prepared for the\nking, on his restoration, a petition, of which here follows a copy:--\n\n _Petition adressee par les Normands a S. M. Louis\n XVIII. a son Retour en France._\n\n Sage Prince! quand tu nous rends\n Tous nos anciens usages,\n Accepte les hommages\n Et comble les voeux des Normands!\n Que la potence\n Revive en France,\n Daigne d'avance\n Nous donner l'assurance\n Que sous le regne des vertus\n Les gibets nous seront rendus;\n Heureux Normands! nous serons donc pendus!\n Sous un roi debonnaire,\n Comme on pendait nos peres!! (bis)\n\n Oui, les bons Normands vont ravoir\n L'antique privilege\n D'aller en grand cortege\n Danser a la Croix du Trahair;[10]\n Nouvelle etude\n Nous semble rude,\n De l'attitude\n Nous avons l'habitude,\n Avec le sang de pere en fils\n Ce penchant nous etait transmis:\n Venez encore orner notre pays\n Gibets hereditaires\n Ou l'on pendait nos peres!!\n\nI am sorry I cannot give the notes of the music to which this song or\npetition was set, as that doubtless lent to it additional charms in the\nears of His Majesty.\n\nWe arrived at Yvetot: I heard some talk, amongst my companions,\nconcerning the king of Yvetot, but was unable to obtain from them a\nsatisfactory explanation of its import. I have since been told, that\nthere is a family in this neighbourhood, the head of which, by an\nimmemorial traditionary usage, bore the title of King of Yvetot, with\nthe consent and approbation of the king of France, which consent was\nregularly asked for, on every demise of the crown of Yvetot, and never\nrefused till the time of Louis XIV: he refused it, however, saying, he\nwas determined to be the only king in France: since this time the king\nof Yvetot has disappeared from among the sovereigns of Europe, or,\naccording to the form of anathema of republican or imperial France, \"has\nceased to reign.\" The family still subsists, and its chief is, no\ndoubt, contented to be a private gentleman. I have forgotten his name.\n\nWe breakfasted at Rouen, at five in the morning: I much regretted the\nwant of time to visit this great city, so well worthy of the curiosity\nof strangers. Here our companions left us, and we were again \"all alone\nby ourselves.\"\n\nAt Magny they served soup and bouilli as the first part of our dinner,\nor _dejeune a la fourchette_: I protested against the use of meat on a\nRogation day. \"C'est egal,\"[11] said the landlady, an elderly woman of\ndry and quiet comportment. \"I thought France was a catholic country,\"\nsaid I. \"C'est egal,\" repeated the imperturbable landlady. She gave us,\nhowever, with some symptoms of approbation of our conduct, and of\ncompassion for my young fellow-travellers, plenty of coffee and its\naccompaniments, with boiled eggs at discretion. I have often been\nridiculed, by those who never dine without roast beef or its equivalent,\nfor \"taking thought what I should eat,\" on a day of abstinence; they\nhave told me, that if mortification was my purpose, it would be most\neffectually accomplished by dining on bread and water. They forgot, or\nchose not to remember, that fasting or abstinence is a _positive_ duty\nconsequent on a precept, and that it suffices to comply with a precept\nto the extent of the precept. I find fault with no one for eating meat\non whatever day of the year, but for so doing in defiance of a precept,\nthe obligation of which he himself recognizes, while he aggravates his\ninconsistency by thinking scorn of those who comply with it.\n\nAn old relation of mine, in Devonshire, told me he went to dine with a\ncatholic family, in that county, who made an excuse for being obliged to\ngive him what he would find a bad dinner: \"They set me down,\" said he,\n\"to eleven dishes of fish, and, d--n 'em, they called that fasting.\" My\nrelation was gourmand enough to have preferred eleven dishes of meat.\nBesides, none but those who have made the experiment know how insipid\nfish is to those who do not eat it, as all men of true taste do eat it,\nfor variety only. So sensible are catholics of this insipidity, that\none, at whose house I dined with a large party, called out to us on\nentering his dining room,--\"No fish, gentlemen: we have enough of that\non other days.\"\n\nThere is another road from Rouen to Paris, called the lower road,\nfollowing, at a little distance, the course of the Seine, and exhibiting\na great variety of fine scenery: that taken by our coach passed over a\nhigh plain of land of little fertility, but very well cultivated; it was\nin a straight line, and bordered by rows of apple trees, which, for some\ntime before the season of gathering the fruit for cyder, are guarded in\nthe night by dogs: during the day, their situation by the side of the\nroad secures them from all but petty pilfering. At intervals were seen\nfarm-houses, which seemed adapted for large farms; and the country bore\nsigns of being occupied on the plan of what is called grand cultivation,\nexcept near the towns, where small patches of land, of different crops,\nmarked the minute subdivision of property.\n\nWe passed through the village of St. Clair. A very particular\ncircumstance, which had occurred five months before, caused me to be\nmuch affected, while in sight of this town. My elder son, who sat\nopposite to me, remarked the change of my countenance, and asked the\nreason: I eluded his question for the present: I was not aware how much\nwhat I then revolved in my mind regarded the fate of this son. St. Clair\nwas an English priest, who, in the eighth century, retired into the pays\nde Vexin, led there an eremitical life, and occupied himself in the\nreligious instruction of the inhabitants. His name and memory are held\nin great honour, particularly in the dioceses of Beauvais and Paris.\n\nWe crossed the bridge of Pontoise without entering that ancient town, in\nwhich the Etats Generaux were sometime held. The building of a bridge\nwas formerly so great an exploit, and the possession of one an advantage\nso uncommon, that the word enters into the composition of many names of\ntowns: we find even Deuxponts, and Bracebridge. The waters of all the\nrivers which fall into the Seine seem to be of the same colour; all\nbring with them chalk and clay. The soil of the whole basin, or valley\nof the Seine, is generally uniform.\n\nParis is hidden, from those who approach it by the road of St. Denis, by\nthe interposition of Montmartre, a bare hill of no pleasing form. No\nincreasing populousness or bustle, or passage of exits and entrances,\nannounces the vicinity of a great town: Paris is all within its own\nwalls. We were stopt at the gate; for every gate is a douane, as all\nprovisions pay a tax on entering the city, except bread, corn, and\nflour, which receive a premium: even one of my trunks was opened. As the\nparts of a town, remote from its centre, are, of course, inhabited by\nthe poorer classes, it is unreasonable to expect magnificence on the\nfirst entering, even of Paris; but it improved as we proceeded. We\ncrossed the Boulevards, and were set down at the Messageries, the grand\nestablishment of all the public carriages, whence we proceeded to the\nHotel de Conti, at a little distance, and near the Palais Royal. We had\nperformed the whole journey in twenty-five hours, at the rate of about\nsix miles an hour, all stoppages included. During the night, and where\nthe road was bad, we went slowly; but from Rouen to Paris we went more\nthan seven miles and a half an hour, the rate of an English mail coach;\nthe relays of horses always being in readiness at the door of each\npost-house. The expense for three persons, including breakfast and\ndinner, was about five pounds.\n\nA friend, whom I had hastened to see before his departure from Paris,\nand who, to my very great satisfaction, prolonged his stay there for\nfour weeks after my arrival, came to us in the evening: we passed the\nnext day with him, and on Thursday, after attending mass, on the feast\nof the Ascension, at the magnificent Gothic church of St. Eustache,\nsettled ourselves in an apartment in the Rue de la Chaussee d'Autin,\ncalled otherwise, while Savoy was a department of France, Rue Mont\nBlanc, a name not yet entirely forgotten. It is, for length and width,\none of the best in Paris, but very noisy. Garcons, however, did not mind\nnoise: I too was a garcon, waiting the arrival of the female part of my\nfamily. We had two sitting-rooms with cabinets, and three good beds. The\nhouse supplied us with hot water for our tea; we had our mid-day repast\nof fruit; and, when we did not dine at a cafe, which we did but rarely,\nwere supplied with our dinner by a neighbouring traiteur. Thus we lived\nfor nearly three months: a French master and drawing-master attended my\nsons; I superintended their other studies; and we employed our time in\nthe attainment of the object immediately within our reach--in becoming\nacquainted with Paris and its environs.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[7] Overwhelmed by duties.\n\n[8] There are honest people every where, even in Normandy.\n\n[9] Ninety-nine sheep and one native of Champagne make a hundred good\nbeasts.\n\n[10] The Tyburn of Paris.\n\n[11] It is all the same.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n\nHe, who, on his return to Edinburgh from London, should publish his\nremarks on the latter city, would not take more superfluous pains, for\nthe instruction of his countrymen, than the Englishman who should\npublish in England an account of Paris: it is there almost as well known\nas London itself. Still it is a foreign city: and many, who would scorn\nto take up a London Guide, may, for the hundredth time, amuse themselves\nwith notices of Paris.\n\n\"Il n'y a qu'une Paris dans le monde,\"[12] say the French, and of that\nworld they consider it as the capital: they are in some measure\njustified in so considering it, by the universality of their language,\nby the general imitation of their manners, and, above all, by the\nliberality with which every thing that a stranger can desire to view is\noffered to his inspection. There is certainly a greater resort of\nforeigners to Paris, independently of commerce, than to any other city\nof Europe.\n\nI followed the advice of a former tourist, and went, first of all, to\nthe Place Louis XV. It is almost the only object I have seen in my\ntravels, that I have heard much praised beforehand, which has not\ndisappointed me. Perhaps I was thus well contented, because the feeling\nof admiration was now, for the first time, excited in the beginning of\nmy tour in foreign parts; and I pleased myself in expecting a frequent\nrenewal of it; and I have since admired less, because I have seen more\nthings to admire. But, to the Place Louis XV. Entering it from the\nnorth, you have the Seine, with its bridge, and the Palais Bourbon\nbefore you; advancing to the middle of the square, you have public\nbuildings with magnificent colonnades behind you; on the left is the\ngarden of the Tuilleries, at the end of the central allee of which is\nseen the chateau; on the right, the Champs Elysees; and, at the end of\nthe grand avenue, the triumphal arch, which shared the fate of the\ntriumphs of its founder, being left incomplete: it has since been\nfinished in honour of his Royal Highness the Duc d'Angouleme on account\nof his Spanish campaign of 1823. A very good taste dictated to Napoleon\nthe site of this arch; without it the fourth side of this magnificent\nsquare was trees and country only; but the arch seems to enclose the\nChamps Elysees, as the Palace encloses the garden of the Tuilleries; the\nextent of the _Place_ is increased by making the Champs Elysees appear\nas a part of it, and the whole is perfected. The daughter of Louis XVI.\nand Marie Antoinette avoids this Place with a pious horror, in which\nevery honest heart is disposed to sympathise.\n\nThe Museum of the Louvre consists of the lower apartments, in which the\nstatues are placed, and of the gallery of paintings; but as it has\nbecome usual to call the gallery by the name of the Gallery only, the\nlower rooms have retained sole possession of the name of Museum. At the\ndoor may be bought catalogues of the statues and paintings, which enter,\nin some cases, into a short detail of their history and merits. The\nstatues are well placed: one may go round them, and see them on every\nside. Common sense directs, that a statue should be placed thus; yet at\nRome, statues, the admiration of the world, are placed in dark cabinets,\nin niches, close to the wall; as if statues, like paintings, were to be\nseen only on one side: they are thus robbed of half their glory, nay of\nall their glory; since, to judge of a statue, it must be contemplated as\na whole. \"They order these things better in France.\"\n\nIt is easy to say, and it has often been said, that the gallery is too\nlong,--too long, that is, for its breadth: but who would wish it to be\nshorter? and as, on each side, there is sufficient distance to allow a\ngood view of the pictures opposite, it cannot be said to be too narrow\nfor its use. By two arches, thrown across the ceiling, it seems to be\ndivided into three compartments; and thus the length is, in some sort,\nbroken. The paintings of the Italian school have the place of honour, in\nthe compartment at the end furthest from the door; the French school is,\nhowever, in a most flourishing state, and boasts great names: it will\nsoon rival, if it does not already rival, the old Italian school; to\nsurpass it, is, I suppose, impossible.\n\nThis gallery, originally intended as a passage from the Louvre to the\nTuilleries, from the town-house to the country-house of the kings of\nFrance,--is now, with the rooms on the ground-floor, and some large\nchambers that have been added, the repository of the finest collection\nof monuments of the arts, that is to be found out of Italy. Indeed no\nsingle Italian collection equals it, saving always the reverence due to\ncertain renowned and incomparable chefs-d'oeuvre.\n\nThe Museum of Natural History, in the Jardin des Plantes, is said to be\nthe first in the world. That class of society which has but one day in\nthe week of relief from labour is admitted here as well as at the\nLouvre. Sunday is not the day on which the museums are closed; as the\nFrench government has not discovered the wisdom of driving the people\ninto the cabaret by depriving them of all other amusement on that day. I\nhave attended on that day at both museums, and have been equally\nsurprised and pleased in witnessing the behaviour of those who on that\nday only have leisure to attend in great numbers. They had not the\npretensions of savans and connoisseurs; though probably there might be\nfound amongst them their fair proportion of connoisseurs and savans.\nThere was no crowding or jostling,--not so much as I have sometimes\nobserved in assemblies of people more fashionably dressed: there was no\nnoise or clamour; they conducted themselves with the greatest decorum:\nin the botanical garden, they kept themselves on the walks and allees\nwithout ever stepping among the plants; they did not even teaze the poor\nanimals imprisoned in the menagerie. No apprehension seemed to be\nentertained by any one that they would injure any object of art or\nscience. This love of mischief is only excited in the people by the\njealousy or disdain of their superiors, refusing to share with them\npleasures that may, at so cheap a rate, be made common to all. Dr.\nWillis used to have some of the persons entrusted to his charge as his\ndaily guests at dinner: he was asked how he succeeded in making his\npatients behave so well at table,--\"By treating them as if they were in\ntheir senses.\"\n\nThe palace of the Luxembourg contains many very fine paintings, the\nworks chiefly of living authors: its beautiful garden is a source of\nhealth and enjoyment to the inhabitants of this distant quarter of the\ncity; and this garden, as well as that of the Tuilleries, is open every\nday to the public. Even the passage from the Place du Carousel to the\ngarden, through the chateau, or from the front door to the back door of\nthe king's palace, is a public thoroughfare; a practice not very\nrespectful to the king, say some: I say it is a mark of his kindness;\nand I hope the people, to reward him for it, and show their gratitude,\nwill cry \"Vive le Roi\" whenever his Majesty appears on the balcony.\n\nThe library of the king of France is second only to that of the Vatican,\nand superior to the imperial library at Vienna, and to the Bodleian at\nOxford: it is not generally known, even to the English, that this\nlast-named ranks as the fourth library in Europe. The king of France\ngives the use of his library to the public during four hours every day\nof the week not a festival, except Thursdays. Persons are in attendance,\nwho, with an air of civility, as if pleased with the service required of\nthem, find and present every book that may be asked for; and although\nthe number of readers is great, the most perfect decorum and silence\nprevail. There are five or six other great public libraries at Paris, at\nall of which the same accommodation is afforded. The apartment in which\nthe king's library is kept is handsome, but not sufficiently so, and is\nin the midst of other buildings: if a fire should happen, a risk is\nincurred of an irreparable loss. When the building, now in construction,\nopposite to the Museum of the Louvre, shall be completed, and the Place\ndu Carousel shall form one vast quadrangle, it is to be hoped that this\nbuilding will contain a gallery, like that of the paintings, in which\nmay be deposited this superb and useful collection of books. With two\npalaces united by two such galleries, the king of France will be more\nmagnificently lodged than any monarch of ancient or modern time: he need\nnot envy the golden palace of the Caesars: he may even be contented under\nthe inconvenience consequent on his condescension to the wants of his\npeople,--of having no place where he can take the air, but that very\nbalcony, on which I augur to him the continuance of their felicitations.\nThe Pont Neuf is a fine point of view from which to see the eastern and\nsouthern fronts of this edifice, with the garden and Champs Elysees and\ncountry beyond.\n\nOf the churches of Paris, the cathedral of Notre Dame may rank with the\ncathedral churches of the second order in England. Ste. Genevieve,\nsometime the Pantheon, although the inscription, \"aux grands hommes la\npatrie reconnoissante,\"[13] was still legible in 1818, is now restored\nto the use for which it was built. The portico is so extremely\nbeautiful, that the architect was blamed by a pun, not transferable into\nEnglish, for having turned all his architecture out of doors,--\"mis a la\nporte toute son architecture.\" A greater and more unequivocal fault than\nthis was committed; it was found necessary to support the dome by a\ndouble thickness of wall within. This church is not equal in grandeur to\nSt. Paul's, which the little boy called \"the church of England;\" but the\ninside is more beautiful, and would appear larger, (as the pillars do\nnot occupy so much space,) were it not too short in the part beyond the\ndome; shorter than the due proportion of the cross demands.\n\nA traveller, soon after the restoration, having visited the tombs below\nthe pavement of this church, and seen the torch, typical of philosophy,\nissuing from that of Voltaire,--observed a monument which seemed to him\na new one; he inquired whose it was, and was told by the attendant,\n\"that of a member of the ancient Senate.\"--\"But,\" said the traveller, \"I\nthought this edifice was the place of interment for great men.\"--\"C'est\nvrai; mais, en attendant, on y enterre des senateurs.\"[14] It is not\ncertain whether this was said in simplicity or in _persiflage_.\n\nI recommend to the attention of those who visit the church of St.\nSulpice an image or statue of the Blessed Virgin, with the infant\nSaviour in her arms, seated on a globe, and surrounded by angels. The\nlight, from an unseen opening above, falls on the figures in such a\nmanner, as to give to the whole scene an appearance of animation beyond\nwhat the sculptor, however great his merit, could have produced. There\nare other objects in this church worthy of notice. The double portico, or\nrather two porticos, one above the other, are much to be admired. I\ncannot be persuaded, however, even by the numerous examples of this\npractice, that it is not absurd for pillars to support pillars: it seems\nas if children were playing at architecture, and trying how high they\ncould make their building reach. Yet there is nothing childish in these\nporticos; they are grand and imposing.\n\nThe gilded dome of the Church of the Invalids, from whatever point it\ncan be seen, is the ornament of Paris, and it is an ornament because it\nis gilded. A dome is, on the outside, an ugly and heavy object to the\nview; and therefore gilding, or what is better, architectural ornament,\nlike that left incomplete at Florence, is well employed on a dome. I\nknow I have Cicero against me, who speaks in high praise of the dome of\nthe Capitol. Cicero and the Capitol are great names; but, much as I\nvenerate that great orator and philosopher, I hope there is no harm in\nsaying, that I have seen more domes than he had an opportunity of\nseeing. I reserve what I have to say on the interior of domes till I\nshall arrive at St. Peter's and the Pantheon. The Church of the Invalids\nis a very handsome one: I attended military mass there: none but those\nwho have proved it can judge of the fine effect produced, on such an\noccasion, by the military music and ceremonial.\n\nThe Halle aux Bleds is an object very likely to be overlooked by an\nelegant traveller. I have heard of a young man of fashion, who, being\nrequested to call at Child's bank, declared he never had been so far in\nthe city in his life. In this Halle is deposited the corn and flour\nbrought for the supply of Paris: it is conveniently situated for the\ndistribution of this supply, being in the most populous quarter of the\ncity; but the streets leading to it are narrow; and it has,\nunfortunately both for its commercial uses and for the view of it, no\nopen space around it. It is in form and dimensions exactly like the\nPantheon at Rome, without the portico: no timber is employed in its\nconstruction; it is built entirely of stone and iron; even the doors are\nof iron. I know not if I saw it on a gloomy day, or if the sky of Italy\nbe clearer than that of France, or if the corn and flour sacks hindered\nthe reflection of the sun; but, though the opening at the top be equally\nlarge, it did not seem to admit so much day-light as that of the\nPantheon.\n\nNapoleon did much, and projected still more, for the embellishment of\nParis. The pillar in the Place Vendome is superior to those of Trajan\nand Antonine in every thing, but in the veneration due to antiquity and\nthe name of Rome. His son bore the title of King of that ancient capital\nof the world; and for him,--for the king of Rome,--was projected a\npalace on the right bank of the Seine opposite the Hotel des Invalides,\nthat from his infancy the view of these _emeriti_ of French valour might\ninspire him with an ardour for military exploits, and that these\nwarriors also might find a part of their recompense in being continually\nunder the eye of the heir of so much glory. This project has, of course,\nbeen abandoned. Yet why should not the education of the young Henry, the\nfuture heir of the French monarchy, be conducted in the same spirit as\nwould have been that of the young Napoleon? There exists, indeed, but\ntoo much cause why it should be so conducted, as to form a leader fit to\nhead the armies and direct the energies of France. A million of bayonets\nthreaten Europe from the north, and France only can array itself against\nthem, Russia has already absorbed, within its empire, that great\nlimitrophe nation which might have been a barrier against its further\nprogress: its nearest neighbour has a force not more than a third of\nthat which Russia itself can wield: the first military power of Germany,\nPrussia,--a camp rather than a kingdom, a state rather than a\nnation,--must continue the voluntary or involuntary ally of Russia: the\nrest of Germany is divided into petty sovereignties. Russia has an army,\nthe half of which is sufficient for its own defence; nay, it is secure\nfrom attack: what then may it do, What will it do, with the other half?\nThe irruption of the now half-civilised and well-disciplined hordes of\nthe north, directed by one will, which rules from the Aleutian isles to\nthe banks of the Vistula, is an event that may take place before the\ninfant Henry shall have attained the age of manhood: then, instead of\nthe prospect of the Invalides, he may have that of the \"tented field;\"\ninstead of mimic war and reviews on the Champ de Mars, he may join in\nreal battle for the security of France and the protection of Europe.\n\nThe building which was to have been a monument dedicated to the grand\narmy, is converted into a church, for which, by its form, it was well\nadapted. But, instead of this edifice, a monument has been raised to the\nglory of the French warriors, _aere perennius_;--a work in twenty-six\nvolumes, by a society of military men and men of letters: it is entitled\n\"Victoires et Conquetes\" in very large capitals, \"desastres et revers\"\nin very small capitals, of the French armies, from 1792 to 1815. It is\ncomposed in the spirit of the liberal party, but with great moderation:\nit speaks with constant respect of the royal family of France, with\nunreserved freedom of Bonaparte, and with severe censure of the faults\nof the republican government: its hatred of England is more than\npatriotic,--plus quam civilia: it is written in a very respectable\nstyle, itself a history, and forming a collection of materials to be\nembodied into future, general, or partial histories of the revolution.\nEven \"the Great Unknown\" himself, than whom no one has a better right to\ndisprove the assertion of Pindar, that fable delights more than truth,\nsince so much of what is delightful in fable is of his own creation, and\nevery one may do what he wills with his own;--even he, who may dispute\nwith Cervantes, Shakspeare, and Ariosto, the title of \"the greatest liar\nthat ever lived,\"--may have recourse to more than the latter half of\nthese twenty-six volumes, in the composition of that story, in which\nevery thing shall be true, yet every thing shall be astonishing. It is\nsuperfluous to wish him success: of that he is assured, both by his\nsubject, and by the novel manner in which it will be handled; but I wish\nhe would take the trouble of once revising his manuscript before\nimpression, to correct the blunders of rapid composition.\n\nI saw the model in plaister of the statue in marble, of an elephant,\nwhich statue was to have been raised upon a high pedestal in the Place\nde la Bastille: a staircase, beginning within one of the fore-legs of\nthe elephant, was to have led to the top of a tower on his back, from\nwhich would have been seen all Paris and its environs: from his\nproboscis was to have issued a fountain. The model, I am told, is now\nbroken in pieces. Perhaps this is fortunate: the elephant might in\nfuture times have answered the purpose, if not of the Bastille, of the\nbull of Phalaris: after the pleasant jests we have heard of _la petite\nfenetre nationale_,[15] and the _bapteme republicain_[16],--who knows\nwhether the sovereign people, calling to mind the bull of Phalaris oh\nthe site of the Bastille, and justifying, according to custom, its own\ntyranny by that of others,--might not have amused itself with the\nbellowing of an elephant? Despots, of one or many heads, resemble each\nother:\n\n ----facies non omnibus una,\n Nee diversa tamen.\n\nStill it is a pity that the elephant is not to be erected: he would\nhave been at once a curious and majestic figure; and his absence will\nnot deprive cruelty, if the disposition to it should unhappily again\nexist, of the means of inflicting vengeance. It is always an easy\nmatter, says the English proverb, to find a stick to beat a dog; and\nwhen one portion of society become dogs to the other and more powerful\nportion, of course the dogs must be beaten.\n\nThe model of the elephant drew me into the neighbourhood of the Marais:\nthis quarter of Paris was once the court end of the town, and Vincennes\nwas what St. Cloud has since become. The streets of the Marais are much\nwider and cleaner, and better built than the other ancient streets of\nParis; and this quarter, with the Place Royale, is well worth visiting,\nthough seldom visited: it is inhabited by an old-fashioned set of\ngentry, who prefer Paris, as a residence, to any country town, but take\nno part in its amusements; who go to church, and do not go to the opera;\nwho persist obstinately in the more ancient mode of dining at one\no'clock; who gave no assistance or encouragement to the revolution, it\nmay be, because it brought in so many innovations. I am assured that,\nduring the most tumultuous scenes of that period, the Marais was always\ntranquil. Strangers who mean to spend some time in Paris, and who have a\ncarriage, or can do without one, would do well to establish themselves\nin the Marais: they would indeed be at a great distance from their\nastonished friends and from the places of amusement, but the line of the\nBoulevards would lead them any where.\n\nThe Boulevards are a great, and precious, and a peculiar advantage,\nwhich the city of Paris enjoys above all cities that I have seen or\nheard of. This ancient enclosure of the town is now at about half-way\nfrom the Seine to the walls; so much have the Fauxbourgs increased; for\nall beyond the Boulevards is called Fauxbourg. Thus, in the midst of\nParis, for the whole of the distance from the bridge of the Jardin des\nPlantes to the Place Louis XV. in a line running at first from south to\nnorth, then westward, and then inclining to the south, is found a wide\nstreet, with a broad walk on each side, shaded by two rows of trees.\nHere you may walk in safety, without fear of the cabriolets or one-horse\nchairs, which, in all the streets of Paris, even on the trottoirs,\nendanger life and limb. Here you may see exposed to sale, on tables\nniched in between the trees on one side, and between the trees and\nhouses on the other, all kinds of wares; millinery and bon-bons,\nliterature and jou-jous, maps, prints, and cutlery. \"Voila,\" says a boy,\nflashing in your eyes his string of steel watch-chains, \"voila des\nchaines superbes.\"--\"Voila le regne de Napoleon,\" says a moralist, out\nof time and place. Here you may find petits gateaux and eau de\ngroseille, to allay both hunger and thirst; and chairs, for a sous\na-piece, to repose while you refresh yourself. The houses are lofty, and\nmany have balconies: the shops are well supplied; at every step are\ntheatres, and spectacles, and cafes, and public gardens and diversions\nof every sort: an infinite variety of physiognomy, character, and\noccupation is continually flitting before you. It is the most amusing\nmorning scene of this amusing metropolis.\n\nNapoleon gave to Paris the bridges of Austerlitz and Jena: the names\nhave been changed to those of \"du Jardin du Roi,\" and \"des Invalides;\"\nbut the benefit remains: thus the extension of the city, at both\nextremities, was encouraged, and the value of property increased. Along\nthe Seine, on both banks, from the one to the other of these bridges, is\na space of the width of a very broad street between the houses and the\nriver. This too, as well as the Boulevards, is an advantage peculiar to\nParis. In London, to get a view, or a peep at the Thames, you must go to\nthe ends of the streets at right angles with it: the projected terrace,\nwhen accomplished, will, I hope, form a magnificent answer to this\nreproach. At Florence, the _lungarnata_ extends for about one third only\nof the course of the Arno through that beautiful city.\n\nThe Hotel-Dieu is in a central situation, more convenient, both for the\npatients and their medical attendants, than the sites now often chosen\nfor such institutions in the precincts of cities. The course of the\nSeine supplies it with air and water. An admirable cleanliness is\nobserved in the wards: even the beds of the patients are free from all\noffensive odour. This infirmary is a school of medicine: young surgical\npractitioners flock to Paris for instruction. The French have unhappily\nhad of late so many opportunities of perfecting themselves in this\nscience, that they are well qualified to give lessons. If honour hath no\nskill in surgery, he is obliged to lead in his train many who have. The\nHotel-Dieu is a credit to the country.\n\nIt is very easy to find your way in Paris: between the Seine and the\nBoulevards you may always arrive quickly at a point where you may know\nwhereabouts you are. This is facilitated too by a trifling, but\ningenious arrangement: the streets parallel to the river are\ndistinguished from those at right angles with it, by inscribing the\nnames of the one set in black letters on a light ground, and of the\nother set in white letters on a black ground.\n\nThe Morgue is an excellently well-contrived establishment. It is a\nlittle building, on the bank of the river, where are deposited the\nbodies of persons found drowned or otherwise accidentally slain. These\nbodies are laid on an inclined plane, in a space partitioned off by\nglass doors and windows, stript of part of their clothes, which are hung\nup over their heads. By this simple method, the members of a family, of\nwhom one is lost or missing, have the means of finding and reclaiming\ntheir own, if there, without inquiry,--without exposing to public remark\na mischance which may be only temporary. Calling here one day, I was\nwitness to a scene on which the genius of Sterne would have lived and\nrevelled most sentimentally. The body of a middle-aged man, who, by the\nclothes suspended above, appeared to have been a sailor, was laid in its\nplace to be recognised. After gazing on this sight for some little time,\nI was retiring, when I met, at the outer door, an elderly woman\naccompanied by a lad of about fourteen years old. Their steps were\nhurried: their countenances full of anxiety and terror. \"They have\nlost,\" said I, \"a son and a father.\" I waited the event. They advanced\nto the window, with what I will call, if the phrase may be allowed, a\nprecipitate irresolution,--dreading to find what they sought. They\nreturned consoled, but still dejected: the expression of their faces\nsaid plainly,--\"It is not he; but then, where is he?\" He was not found\nthere, yet still he was lost.\n\nThere are several manufactures at Paris worthy of attention. Old renown\nled me to the Gobelins: it was not in a state of great activity at this\ntime, but I saw some works both finished and carrying on, worthy of that\nold renown. The process of making this tapestry is exceedingly tedious.\nI observed that the workmen, like clock-makers, and printers, and other\n_men of letters_, were almost all short-sighted.\n\nThe Palais Royal, as a centre of wealth and dissipation, deserves all\nthe celebrity it has acquired: it is besides a very handsome quadrangle,\nas I once was used to call the interior of buildings of this form: it is\nnot a square; it would be pedantic to call it a parallelogram, and not\naccording to usage to call it an oblong. The arches are not wide enough;\nand the arcade (the space, I mean, between the arches and the shops,)\nis not broad enough. Here is more splendour, but less of variety to be\nseen, than on the Boulevards. The shop-keepers are not dearer here than\nin other quarters of Paris: the greater number of their transactions\npays their higher rents, though their profits may be only equal to those\nof their brethren in trade. I took ice at the Cafe de Mille Colonnes,\nand found that, counting shadows or reflections in the mirrors with\nwhich the rooms are lined, the number, though indefinite, may not be\nexaggerated.\n\nThe garden is enclosed by iron palisades between the arches: it is\nclosed in the night, the arcade being still left as a thoroughfare. I\nfound no reason to avoid passing through it with my elder son, a youth\nof seventeen, though I should have been most unwilling to lead him in\nthe evening into any street in London. When will the police of the\ncapital of the British empire take shame to themselves?\n\nThe colonnade of the Louvre, which the Gascon said was very much like\nthe _back_ front of his father's stables, is justly admired. The court I\nthought to be too much ornamented, and the ornaments too much\nsubdivided, and the height of the building within too great for its\nextent of area. It is, however, an exceedingly handsome building: I was\nglad to see it completed, at least as to the exterior. I was told it had\nbeen nearly two centuries in building. He who had Versailles wanted no\nother dwelling.\n\nI shall be well pleased to have excited the reader's attention to my\nremarks also on the curiosities of Paris: at any rate I have not\ndetained him long. I hope he will not be disinclined to accompany me to\nthe environs.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[12] There is but one Paris in the world.\n\n[13] To great men their grateful country.\n\n[14] That is true; but, in the mean time, they bury senators.\n\n[15] The little national window--the hole of the guillotine that\nreceives the neck.\n\n[16] Republican baptism--drowning people by boatsfull.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n\nThe cemetery of Pere la Chaise is on a height commanding a view of Paris\nand of the whole extent of country from Vincennes to St. Cloud. Le Pere\nla Chaise was confessor to Louis XIV. and sometime proprietor of this\nlarge field, now the burying-ground of a great proportion of the\npopulation of Paris. It is laid out, with due regard to the irregularity\nof the ground, in walks and allees; and the care of adorning and\nplanting is left to the relations and friends of the deceased here\ninterred. It is adorned with tombs and monuments, some of which display\nmore taste than is usually brought to such designs: around these tombs\nare planted poplars and cypresses, roses and jasmines; and thus the\nquarter where the rich are buried, (for even here \"the people of quality\nflock all together,\") has the air of a pretty shrubbery. The price of so\nmuch land as may suffice for one corpse is now three hundred francs, and\nthe ground, with whatever may be erected upon it, becomes the property\nof \"heirs and assigns for ever.\" The money so raised is, I believe,\napplied to the maintenance of infirmaries or other public charities.\nThat part of the cemetery where the poor, or those who do not buy their\ngraves, are buried, is dug very deep on the occasion of each interment:\nthe ground is taken up regularly; and it is supposed that the bodies\nfirst buried will be reduced to earth before it shall be necessary to\ndig over the same ground a second time.\n\nSuch is, by law, the mode of sepulture throughout France: no one can be\nburied in a church, nor even in his own garden or field, unless at a\ncertain distance from all habitation; and cemeteries, regulated like\nthat of Pere la Chaise, are every where provided. These burying-grounds\nare to be restored to cultivation, wholly or in part, as the case may\nrequire, during the time necessary for the complete rotting of the\nbodies beneath; a space of fourteen years, says Hamlet's grave-digger,\nfor \"all but your tanner:\" this however must depend more on the nature\nof the soil than on the former occupation of the persons deceased; but\nShakspeare is allowed to jest on every subject.\n\nI will own that the view of the great cemetery of the capital of France\ndispleased, and even disgusted me; and that the law in regard to this\nmatter appeared to me a scheme of irreligious legislators for putting\nout of sight all that might remind them of death, and for desecrating\nchurch-yards, and for rooting out of the minds of the people their\nveneration for ancient usages and consecrated places. An enclosure,\ndestined to the uses of a church-yard, turned into a flower-garden,--or\na flower-garden, still retaining its finery, turned into a\nchurch-yard;--monuments surmounted, not by the symbol of salvation, but\nby vases in which no ashes were contained, and which are absurd in a\nplace where bodies are not burned, but buried;--inscriptions, which\nspoke not of eternity, but were such as if the person beneath had died\nwithout hope or fear,--all this offended me. The provisions of the law\nof burial, which does not allow families to repose together even in\ndeath, since each corpse must take its place in the row or line,--this\nlaw, which destroys all sepulchral memorials of families or\nindividuals,--(for if the land be restored to cultivation the sepulchres\ncannot well be preserved,) all this shocked my habitual notions and\nancient prejudices.\n\nYet what can be more dangerous to the health of a great city, than that,\nin every populous part of it, there should be a small enclosure,\ncontaining, at a little depth under ground, dead bodies in every stage\nof putrefaction,--a dunghill of most noxious exhalation, slightly\ncovered with mould? How much is this danger increased by the contagious,\n(I was going to say pestilential, but it is now doubted whether\npestilence be contagious or not,) by the contagious nature of many\ndiseases! What can be more indecent, and at the same time dangerous,\nthan that, at the digging of a grave, bodies should be disturbed before\nthey are assimilated to the dust to which they are committed, and that\nskulls and other bones should be thrown out for play-things to\nthoughtless children? Such things I have seen, and so has every man who\nhas been present at the digging of a grave in any town in England; such\nthings are even represented on the stage, to the disgrace of our\nnational character, for the sake of the grave-diggers' puns, and an\ningenious moralizing on the skull of Yorick. Custom reconciles us to\nthings in themselves most shocking. Medea might have slain her children\n_coram populo_, if the people had been used to it. They _were_ used to\ngladiators.\n\nYet custom will not prevent infection: we ought, in spite of custom, to\nbe sensible of the indecency of our mode of interment, and of the risk\nwe run by heaping our dead on each other in a narrow boundary, yearly\nencroached upon by the altar-tombs of the wealthy, and rendered still\nnarrower by a predilection, foolish as it may seem, for the sunny side\nof the church-yard. How then are the dead to be disposed of? a question\nto my mind more difficult to answer than \"how are the dead raised up?\"\n\nIn populous cities,--a situation unfavourable to human life,--of thirty\npersons, one dies yearly: each individual requires for his grave two\nsquare yards of earth; grown persons rather more, as every grave ought\nto be separated from that nearest to it; and children will require less\nthan two square yards; but upon an average, a population of seventy-two\nthousand six hundred souls, or more properly on this occasion, bodies,\nwill cover with their dead, in the space of one year, an acre of land.\nThe dead of the city of Paris in fourteen years,--Shakspeare's period\nfor entire decomposition,--would take up a hundred and forty acres. If\ncemeteries are not restored to cultivation, the dead, after a few\ngenerations, will starve the living; at least it must be borne in mind\nthat cemeteries, near great towns, must be allotted in situations where\nland is most valuable. Unwillingly I abandon all my prepossessions in\nfavour of holy ground and other \"circumstance\" of christian burial. The\ndead ought not to be carried into the church before interment: that\npractice is still allowed in France, but ought, for obvious reasons, to\nbe suppressed: the coffin ought to have no lid or cover; thus the\ncompression of the ascending vapour will be more complete, and the\nassimilation of the body to the surrounding mould will not be retarded:\nif the horrible accident of burying any one alive should unhappily\noccur, at the least, that which most aggravates the horror of such a\nmisfortune,--the lingering torments of the interred,--are prevented:\nportions of land ought to be appropriated, in the neighbourhood of great\ncities, to the uses of sepulture and cultivation successively: lastly,\nthe rich ought to be contented with cenotaphs and inscriptions to their\nmemory on the walls and pavements of churches, while masses and other\ncommemorations may be celebrated in the presence of catafalques.\n\nThe catacombs are, or is, (for I have forgotten my English grammar,) one\nof the _lions_ of the environs of Paris; and such a _lion_! Let the word\n\"lumen\" mean \"life,\" and call it \"monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens,\ncui lumen ademptum.\" When the Cimetiere du Pere la Chaise was\nsubstituted for church-yards, out of these latter, now to be applied to\nsecular uses, were dug the human bones that were found in laying the\nfoundations of buildings: these bones were carried to certain stone\nquarries, now no longer worked, a little to the south of Paris. So far,\nso good: but it came into the heads of the managers of this affair to\nmake a pretty thing of it: on the sides of the passages of the quarry,\nand in the wider spaces, they ranged these bones in squares and circles,\nand wheels and stars; a skull in the middle, and rays of thighbones,\nbrachia, and lacerti; of the ossa, ilium, ischium, and coccygis,--there\nwas no os _sacrum_,--they made obelisks and pyramids; and this \"region\nof horror,\"--these \"doleful shades,\"--under the abused name of the\ncatacombs, attract the idle and curious traveller to see by what\nfantastic devices that which is most respectable and venerable to\nhumanity and to faith can be tricked out into raree-show. This place\ncannot be visited without inconvenience: it were to be wished, as in the\ncase of the opera tune, that, instead of difficulty, there might be\nimpossibility: it is excessively damp; moisture issues from above,\nthough on the sides it is hidden by the choice tapestry with which they\nare decorated; but the ground is slippery; each person gropes along with\na wax taper in his hand, sometimes obliged to curve himself. It is some\nconsolation, at length, to find here an altar, on which, once in the\nyear, on All Souls' Day, a _missa pro defunctis_ is said. I trust in\nthe good taste, if not in the piety of the French people, so far, as to\nhope that this altar will be set up in a chapel above-ground, and that\nthe catacombs will be filled with earth, and closed till the\nconsummation of all things.\n\nThe cimetiere and the catacombs are, strictly speaking, in the environs\nof Paris, being without the walls. I made however with my sons several\nexcursions to places in the neighbourhood, setting out in the morning,\npassing the day at the place of our visit, and returning in the cool of\nthe evening. Mrs. ----, and my daughters, who had remained in England\nfor the purpose of spending some time with her relations before quitting\nthe country, arrived at Paris, under the conduct of one of her brothers,\ntowards the middle of July,--in fact, as it happened, on the memorable\nfourteenth. I took an apartment for a month in the Rue Neuve des\nMathurins, and during that month also we made excursions. I shall make a\nfew observations on what I saw; and \"first with the first,\" the pride of\nLouis XIV and of France, the deserted palace or chateau of Versailles.\n\nIt is rather a handsome and extensive building, than a monument to the\nglory of a great king and a great nation. The front toward Paris,\ncomposed in part of some corps-de-logis of the ancient hunting-seat of\nLouis XIII. is irregular, and this grande cour, (and a grand court it\ncertainly is,) does not form a whole. The approach to the garden front\nis through a passage, and to take a view of this front one must first go\naway from it. At the edge of the terrace one does not see the wings,\nwhich recede, and form a line with the back of this part of the palace:\nbelow the steps of the terrace, the lower part of the building is hidden\nby the intervening ground. This inversion of the wings has not the\neffect of breaking the too great length of the building: it is said to\nhave been the project of Napoleon to erect a magnificent colonnade or\nportico in front of that part which stands forward on the terrace; thus\nthe wings, if such they may be called, would be thrown into the back\nground: for this they are indeed too handsome; but in the back ground\nthey have been placed by the plan of Louis XIV. One would suppose that\nthey retire to form, on the other side, a part of the eastern front; but\nthey are not even seen from the grand court. The architectural ornaments\nof the garden facade are not many; slight Corinthian pilasters only; the\nentrance, even, is what may be called a garden door, hardly\ndistinguishable from the other windows of the ground floor.\n\nThe staircase is handsome, but not sufficiently so for that to which it\nleads. I shall not pretend to describe the suite of state apartments.\nOne wonders that men of five feet and some inches high should build, for\ntheir own use, rooms so disproportionate to their stature. The chamber\nin which Louis XIV. died is amongst the largest of these rooms: from its\nwindows are seen the three avenues, called _la patte de corbeau_, or of\nsome other bird: the ends of these avenues are not near enough to the\npalace; a defect easily to be supplied. This chamber, the central one of\nthe grande cour, remained unoccupied, in token of respect for the memory\nof that great monarch, who rendered null the efforts of a powerful\ncoalition against him, put his grandson in quiet possession of Spain and\nthe Indies, carried the frontier of France to the Rhine, made all Europe\nbegin to learn French, and exemplified the truth of William of Wykeham's\nmotto,--\"manners maketh man.\"\n\nWhen I saw the palace of Versailles, it was unfurnished; they were\nrenewing the gilding, and repairing the damages of revolution and\nneglect. The celebrated gallery runs the whole length of the central\npart of the garden front. The side opposite the windows is panelled with\nmirrors in a manner exactly resembling the old wainscot which I remember\nin my youth, and which has now given place to stucco, silk, and paper.\nWhat splendid scenes have these mirrors reflected! and all that was then\nso glorious is now as unsubstantial as the shadowed form.\n\nThe chapel is such an one as may be expected in such a palace. The seat\nof the royal family is in what is called the tribune, which is entered\nfrom the state apartments, and is at the height of half the chapel from\nthe pavement, looking down on the altar at the opposite end. In all the\nroyal chapels, the place of the king is thus situated, thus elevated\nabove the altar. Of this I cannot approve: let me quote a story which\nwill explain my meaning. King George III. sent, as a present to the\nEmperor of China, a handsome town-built chariot. On board the vessel\nwhich conveyed it, (it was packed up in separate pieces) a mandarin\nattended, to see it mounted and put together, that he might inform\nhimself of the uses of the several parts.--He readily understood all the\nrest; but the two seats, the one within, and the coachman's seat,\ncovered, of course, with a superb hammer-cloth, perplexed him. \"For whom\nis that seat?\" said he, pointing to the inside of the carriage. He was\ntold that it was for the Emperor. \"And that?\" pointing to the\ncoach-box. \"For the man who guides the horses.\" \"Do you think,\" said he,\nwith a sudden burst of indignation, \"that our glorious sovereign, the\nson of the sun, &c. &c. will allow any one to be placed higher than\nhimself?\"\n\nFrom the southern end of the terrace is seen the orangery below,\nsheltered from the north by the terrace, and the southern end of the\ncentral part of the palace; and from the east by that wing in which are\nthe _petits appartements_. Oranges, in this climate, endure the open air\nduring five months in the year: those of the Tuilleries had already\ntaken their station in the garden when I arrived at Paris, in the end of\nApril. It is said that Louis XIV. received a Turkish ambassador at a\nfirst audience in this orangery. This envoy having learned at Paris that\nVersailles was a most magnificent palace, and at the Sublime Porte that\nflattery was a most important part of his trade, began to offer to the\nking his prepared compliments. The king quietly allowed him to proceed\nand finish; and then taking him on the terrace, and into the state\nrooms, enjoyed his surprise, mingled, as may be supposed, with some\nconfusion, at having repeated his lesson rather too soon.\n\nThe formal arrangement and straight lines of the garden have, of course,\nbeen blamed by those who, according to the present English taste, wish\nevery thing in this kind to be tortured into irregularity. I do not\ndesire that the trees should be clipt, but sympathize rather with the\nold duchess, who said it made her melancholy to see so many millions of\nleaves, not one of which was permitted to grow as it pleased. But a\ngarden near a house ought to partake of the regularity of the building;\nand the house ought not to look, according to the ingenious expression\nof the author of Waverly, as if it had walked out of the town, and found\nits place in the fields by chance. The grand central walk leads down to\nthe water-works, which are, doubtless, very fine, when the water spouts\nforth from the shells of tritons and the mouths of dolphins. On each\nside of this allee, are bowers and bosquets, statues and fountains,\nvases and beds of flowers. Turning to the right, through avenues of\nwell-grown, unclipt trees, one arrives at the Grand and Petit\nTrianon,--two very pretty country-seats, at which grandeur was pleased\nto escape from itself. In the Jardin Anglois, the good taste of Marie\nAntoinette has shown itself superior to rules for avoiding rule, and\nplanned all according to the advantages of the site.\n\nThe view of the country from Versailles is pleasing: but how was it\npossible for him, who had the choice of this spot or of St. Germains for\nhis purpose, to choose the former? I will not believe the reason that\nfrom the latter are seen the towers of St. Denis: his piety, or, if not\nhis piety, that force by which most men are unhappily but too well\nenabled to shut their eyes on death, and all that may remind them of it,\nwould have surmounted this objection. A superbly-elevated natural\nterrace, with a wide and varied prospect; the Seine, here a lordly\nstream; an extensive forest abounding with game; a proud height, from\nwhich his palace would have shown majestically to the country\naround;--all these advantages, not one of which is possessed by\nVersailles, ought to have induced Louis XIV. to prefer St. Germains. The\nonly unpleasing feature in the view from the terrace is the aqueduct,\nmade to carry to Versailles the water of the Seine raised by the machine\nof Marly. Certainly he who can command money can command labour; and\nlabour can erect a series of arches on the side of a high hill. Let this\nfault be redeemed by the canal of Languedoc.\n\nThe handsome tower-like chateau of St. Germains, when I saw it, was used\nas a caserne: the chapel was filled with military stores. We entered the\napartment in which our James II. lived and died an exile, chased from\nhis house and home by his son-in-law. History records many deeds more\natrocious, but none more disgraceful, than this violation of family\nconfidence,--of the pledge of good faith given and received. But, what\nis more disgraceful still, the English nation, besotted by prejudices,\nsees nothing disgraceful in the transaction.\n\nThe palace of St. Cloud is an agreeable, and, according to the favourite\nEnglish phrase, a comfortable habitation, splendidly, but not too richly\nfurnished. The salle-a-manger particularly attracted my notice, being\nthe first good specimen I had seen of a French dining-room. It is a room\nlarge enough for about forty persons to dine in it conveniently. A round\ntable of mahogany, or coloured like mahogany, one fauteuil, and half a\ndozen chairs, seemingly not belonging to this room, but brought from\nanother, standing round the table on a mat which went underneath it; a\nchandelier, or lustre, hanging over the tables;--such, with a few\narticles for the use of the attendants, was the furniture of the room.\nInstead of a sideboard, a painted shelf went round the room at about\nfour feet from the floor. On one of the panes of the window, a\nthermometer, with the scale marked on glass, was fixed on the outside:\nthus the temperature of the outer air might be known without opening\nthe casement.\n\nAn English family of moderate fortune lives very much in the\ndining-room: a French family would as soon think of sitting in the\nkitchen as in the salle-a-manger at any other than eating hours. The\nEnglish think it marvellous that a French lady should receive visits in\nher bed-room; but to this bed-room is annexed a cabinet; which conceals\nall objects that ought to be put out of sight: the bed is either hidden\nby the drapery, or covered by a handsome counterpane, with a _traversin_\nor bolster at each end, which, as it is placed lengthways against the\nwall, the two ends resembling each other in the woodwork also, gives it,\nduring the day-time, the appearance of a couch.\n\nThe park of St. Cloud is not a park in the English sense of the word; it\nis a pretty pleasure-ground, with great variety of surface. If King\nGeorge III. had been as much accustomed to the continental notion of a\npark as the king his grandfather probably was, he would not have\nexpressed so much surprise, when, on his visit to Magdalen College,\nOxford, he was asked if he would be pleased to see the park. \"Park!\nwhat, have you got a park?\"--\"We call it a park, sir, because there are\ndeer in it.\"--\"Deer! How big is it?\"--\"Nine acres, an it please your\nMajesty.\"--\"Well, well, I must go and see a park of nine acres: let us\ngo and see a park of nine acres.\"\n\nFrom the elevated ground of the park of St. Cloud, where the lantern\nrears its head, Paris is seen over an extent of flat and marshy ground,\nover which the Seine winds with as many evolutions and curvatures as a\nserpent. The fable of the sun and the wind contending which of them\ncould first induce a traveller to quit his cloak, might be paralleled by\none invented on the sinuosity of rivers in plain countries. Let nature\noppose rocks and mountains, the river holds on its way by torrent and by\ncataract: arrived at a level country, it seems to amuse itself by delay.\nIf it were told, at an English gaming club, that the mountain and the\nplain had engaged in a contest, which of them should most effectually\ndivert the course of a river from its direct line to the ocean, the odds\nwould, most likely, be in favour of the mountain. But the result is\notherwise.\n\nThe road from Paris to St. Germains en Laye is the most varied and\nagreeable of any in the environs. From the avenue and bridge of Neuilly\nit passes by Mont Valerien, a finely-wooded hill; through Nanterre, the\nbirth-place of Ste. Genevieve, patroness of Paris; near Malmaison, the\nlast abode of Napoleon in France; by Marly, where all is beautiful\nexcept the aqueduct. There is a steam-engine to raise the water, and\npipes to conduct it, which workmen were repairing. We clambered up by\nthe side of the pipes, at every step induced to mount higher by the\nbeauties of the prospect, the same as that from the terrace of St.\nGermains. It reminded me of the view from Richmond Hill, but it is\nbolder and more romantic; and the Seine, being nearer to the hill than\nthe Thames at Richmond, appears an equally important feature in the\nlandscape.\n\nOne of the roads to St. Cloud passes through the Bois de Boulogne: this\nwood was much injured while the allied armies remained in the\nneighbourhood of Paris: young trees had been planted, and appeared\nthriving. Let us hope that a long, a very long peace, may obliterate all\ntraces of a war which desolated all Europe, and more than Europe, for a\nquarter of a century. Indeed, I cannot help agreeing in the wish\nexpressed by one of the common people, in answer to another who\ncongratulated him on the good news of the peace of Amiens:--\"Ay,\" said\nthe first, \"I wish we may never have such good news again.\" A third\ncried out, \"D--n your jacobin eyes, what do you mean by that?\" The\ncongratulator explained, \"Why, doesn't see, that, for us to have good\nnews of peace again, we must first have war again? and he wishes we may\nnever have another war.\" The wish, it seems, was then a symptom of\njacobinism; but in the present day, it must be considered as laudable to\njoin in it, as I do most cordially, since it is the end proposed by the\nHoly Alliance.\n\nAt Meudon, is a very pretty palace, from the terrace of which the eye\nlooks down on a beautiful ravine, and then traverses the plain which is\nseen from the park of St. Cloud. While my sons and I were loitering on\nthe bridge of this latter place, the daughter of Louis XVI. passed by on\nhorseback. She returned our salute by an inclination of the body, while\nthe principal person in attendance (a general officer he seemed to be,)\ntook off his hat, as Dr. ---- said, determinately. Three years only\nafter the restoration, to see this princess for the first time was an\ninteresting occurrence; and I certainly regarded her with a very\ndifferent feeling from that of the Parisian, who, on her entrance into\nthe capital, after five and twenty years of suffering and exile, showed\nwhat he was _not_ thinking of, by exclaiming, \"Comme son chapeau est\npetit!\"[17]\n\nWe returned to the restaurateur's to dine; and, passing the bridge in\nthe evening, saw the water works play in honour of the arrival of the\nking; a sheet of water thrown down artificial rocks; a pretty play-thing\nenough.\n\nWe saw at Sevre a most splendid collection of china, for the greatest\npart ornamental. Every one has seen some of this china, but it is well\nworth while to see it _en masse_ in a great quantity at this repository.\nThe working part of the manufacture was not opened to us; as I had not\nbeen aware that, for this purpose, it was necessary to be fortified,\n_muni_, with a permission of the director. If I translate _muni_ by\n_fortified_, it is in the sense of the Englishman, who being invited to\nbe present at a mass, \"assister a une messe,\"--asked what it was\nexpected of him to _do_ there.\n\nWe went to St. Ouen, celebrated by Madame de Staeel as the birth-place of\nthe revolution and of the _charte_; and thence, along the bank of the\nSeine, to the port of St. Denis,--the point, that is on the river,\ntowards which one of the streets of the town extends itself. It is a\nsmall _bourg_; but the seat of a sous-prefecture. On the abolition of\nroyalty, the ashes of the kings of France, who for many ages had been\ninterred in the church of St. Denis, were dug up and thrown to the\nwinds: they were punished for the crime of having been kings, as\nCromwell was punished for having been an usurper. Royalty was called an\nusurpation on the sovereign people. The roof of the church was stripped\nof its lead to be melted into bullets for the use of the armies, and the\nwindows were broken for no use at all. The building was thus left\nexposed to all the injuries of the seasons, till that great\ncounter-revolutionist Napoleon undertook to repair it as a burial-place\nfor the monarchs of \"the fourth dynasty,\"--a phrase by which he\ningeniously reminded the French that, as the race of Capet was not the\nfirst, it had no imprescriptible right to be the last race of their\nsovereigns. The force of this argument prevailed, while maintained by\nthe argument of force. The audacious _roturier_ who had seized on the\nsceptre of royalty, like the daring mortal who stole fire from heaven,\nwas chained on a barren rock, with vultures,--their prey a fallen great\nman,--to gnaw his entrails: on this rock he found his grave. The\nreparations of the church of St. Denis, continued by order of the king,\nwere, at this time, nearly completed. Some remains of the bodies of\nLouis XVI. and his queen, rescued from the unseemly sepulture to which\ninfuriated republicanism had consigned them, had been here honourably\ndeposited. We had seen the mortal spoil of the brave Prince de Conde\nlying in state at the Palais Bourbon; it had here also found its place.\nThe church resembles that of Notre Dame; it is not so large, but\nproportionably loftier; and the pillars, with the whole of the\narchitecture, are lighter.\n\nSceaux is a small town, six miles to the south of Paris, situated on a\nridge commanding a fine view to the south and north. It is, as well as\nSt. Denis, the seat of a sous-prefecture. Hither the Parisians resort\nduring summer on Sundays to dance under arbours in gardens, and enjoy\nother sports, with the zest of those who have been \"long in populous\ncities pent.\"\n\nJames I. issued an ordinance in favour of Sunday sports: Charles I.\nrenewed it: the spirit of those who observe no festival but Sunday, and\nwho keep Sunday like a fast, prevails in England. Such persons will\nhardly think it a sufficient set-off against the enormities of the\namusements of Sceaux, that, during four months residence at Paris, I did\nnot see one drunken man, not even on a Sunday.\n\nThe chateau of Vincennes is an ancient feudal castle with modern\nadditions: it has a chace before it, an extensive open space left for\nmilitary exercises and sports of chivalry, and to prevent surprise from\nan enemy, who might, under the shadow of a wood, have approached too\nnear without being discovered. In the moat, surrounding the castle, the\nDuc d'Enghien was put to death. Every one must lament the early fate of\nthis prince, and the extinction of an illustrious house. The duke\nperished for having done or attempted to do what he thought to be his\nduty, and Bonaparte, in causing him to suffer death, regarded himself as\nacting according to his own. He is said to have declared at St. Helena\nthat, were the deed to be done again, he would do it. The \"greenest\nusurpation,\" to use a phrase of Burke's, has never scrupled to inflict\ncapital punishment on those who endeavoured its overthrow. In the\nbeginning of the reign of William III. a man was guilty of intending the\ndeath of the king; and having nothing to plead in his defence except the\ndefect, according to his reasoning, of the king's title, and that\n\"murderare\" was bad Latin,--both which pleas were considered as equally\nvalid by the court,--received the sentence of a traitor. But some time\nmust elapse ere the conduct of Bonaparte be judged by principles applied\nto that of other men.\n\nSeventeen years ago, I entertained the design of writing the history of\nthe French revolution, which then appeared to be terminated by the\nassumption of the imperial title by Bonaparte: a counter-revolution was\nin reality effected; all was reversed that had been done during the\nrevolution; republican principles,--the very name of republic,--was\nextinguished, and, as a Frenchman well expressed himself, \"a la chute de\nBonaparte les Bourbons n'avoient qu' a monter le trone tout dresse.\"[18]\nI was told it was too soon to write the history of so stormy a period.\nYet Thucydides, Tacitus, Davila, Clarendon, were contemporary with the\ntimes of which they wrote. It was not too soon, at the time of\nBonaparte's elevation, to write with impartiality, as I was disposed to\ndo, the history of the preceding events, but it was too soon for readers\nto judge without passion.\n\nIn the chateau is a small room, hung with black, with an altar, on\nwhich, by the care of the family of Conde, masses are said for the\nrepose of the soul of their unfortunate relative; and some military\naccoutrements, said to have been his, are shown to strangers whom\nsympathy may render credulous. He desired to have the assistance of a\npriest before the execution of the sentence of the commission. \"Veux-tu\nmourir en capucin?\"[19] is said to have been the answer. I pass over all\nother obvious reflections on this circumstance, to remark that it\nimplied an eulogy on the Capucins, which, from all that I have seen and\nknow of them, they well deserve. Brutus and Cassius were called the last\nof Romans; the Capucins may perhaps be the last of Christians.\n\nThe bottom of the fosse is flat, about twelve feet broad: a wall, of the\nheight of a man, supports the earth of the outer side: the spot, where\nthe execution took place, was pointed out to us. The sign of the cross\nfortified him in the absence of that other spiritual succour which had\nbeen refused to him.\n\nIn front of the castle is shown an oak under which Saint Louis was wont\nto sit. The title of saint was given to this king _honoris causa_: in\nhis time it was honourable; at the present day, the recollection of his\nvalour, probity, piety, disinterestedness, and great talents is\nnecessary to rescue Louis IX. from the ridicule of having been a saint\nand a crusader. The fashion of this world passeth away: religion would\nhave passed away with it, had it depended on the fashion of this world.\nVeritas Domini manet in aeternum. Let those, who now wish to maintain it,\nremember that it is not truth because useful, but useful because truth.\n\nForty years ago, who could return into the country, after having made\nthe visit of a countryman to London, without having seen Bedlam? I was\ncontented with the view of the two admirable statues of furious and\nmelancholy madness at the entrance of the court. I went to Charenton\nwithout seeing the Maison des Fous. Such an asylum ought not to be an\nobject of passing curiosity: there may be among the patients some who\nare amused by visits, but there are others who are very much afflicted\nby them. Besides, my sons were with me: it requires long experience and\nobservation of the miseries of human life to harden the mind to the\nendurance of such a scene as a mad-house presents. Terror and pity have\nsometimes too strong an influence on young imaginations, when excited by\ntheatric exhibition of fictitious woe; how much more when called forth\nby the sight of real misery such as this,--of man in his lowest state of\ndegradation and wretchedness!\n\nWe made our remarks on the confluence of the Seine and Marne: the latter\nis by far the more rapid river of the two, and, though not quite so\nbroad, seems to bear along a greater quantity of water. It flows, for\nsome distance, in the same bed with the river in which its independent\nexistence is merged, and its name lost, without mingling with it, as if\nresenting the injustice of its own lot. This appearance I afterwards\nlooked for in vain at the junction of the Rhone and Saoene, though it is\nrecorded, if I mistake not, by classical authority. The Saoene has no\npretension to an equality with the Rhone, and ought quietly to submit to\nits fate.\n\nOn the day of my departure from Paris, I attended mass in the chapel of\nthe Palace of the Tuilleries. This is one of the sights that the English\ngo to gaze at, it being new to them not only in deed, but in thought;\nand even \"Augusto mense,\" there was great resort of them. To me it\nappeared nothing wonderful that the Most Christian King should assist at\nmass; that, supported by his attendants on account of his great bulk, he\nshould place himself on his knees, and his guards present arms, at the\nmoment of the elevation of the host. Monsieur, now Charles X. and other\nmembers of the royal family, passed through the room in which we were,\nin their way to the tribune of the king.\n\nBefore I leave Paris, I must indulge in a few remarks on the spirit of\nthe times, and the state of the public mind at this epoch.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[17] What a little hat!\n\n[18] At the fall of Bonaparte the Bourbons had only to mount the throne\nthat had been set up again.\n\n[19] Dost thou want to die like a capucin?\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. V.\n\n\nO Fortunatos nimium! O too fortunate those who visited Paris in the year\n1814! They knew not however their own advantage, as they foresaw not the\nevents of the following year, and all the changes consequent on those\nevents. The pictures and statues of the Louvre were sent back in 1815 to\nthe countries which had produced them, where, says an enthusiast for\nItaly, it is more natural to see them: just as a whig chancellor of the\nexchequer said that ten per cent was the natural limit of the income\ntax. Venus and the Graces fled to climes resembling those of Paphos and\nCythera; Apollo and Laocoeon went to be shut up in dark closets at Rome;\nthe horses of St. Mark galloped off to Venice, leaving the beautiful\narch, constructed by Napoleon as a pedestal for this trophy of his\nvictories, to be a misplaced entrance to an iron palisade.\n\nBut this was not all, nor the worst: it even served the English as an\nexcuse, though a superfluous one, for travelling further from home: the\nspirit of the French people was changed, both in regard to foreigners,\nand towards each other.\n\nIn 1818, I found it to be pretty generally believed in France, that the\nEnglish government contrived and connived at the return of Napoleon from\nElba, as an expedient for dividing, weakening, humbling, and despoiling\na rival nation. It was in vain that I argued, that the experiment was\ntoo hazardous a one to have been ventured upon; that the imperial\ngovernment was implacably hostile to England, while the royal government\nwas, for the present at least, friendly, and likely to continue so; that\nthe English people were overwhelmed by a load of debt and taxation, and\nneeded repose after so long a war; that, had the battle of Waterloo been\nlost, they were very ill disposed for the struggle that must have\nensued.\n\nI was answered point by point; that, happen what might as to the success\nor discomfiture of Napoleon, England was secure, fearing no invasion so\nlong as France had no marine; that it was the rival of France under\nwhatever government; that, spite of its debt, it would find means to\nhire the troops of the continent; that, had the Prussians not come up in\ntime to gain the battle of Mont St. Jean, the Austrians and Russians\nwould have arrived shortly after, and the whole force of Europe would\nhave been set in array.\n\nBefore the \"hundred days,\" all that had happened from 1789 was\nconsidered as the result of a concatenation of circumstances neither to\nbe foreseen nor controlled;--as a visitation of Providence, a fatality,\na delirium. This explanation had been given and received between the\nrestored government and individuals, and by individuals amongst each\nother: all things proceeded towards union and amnesty. But during the\n\"cent jours,\" the medal was reversed: many were compelled or persuaded,\nor joyfully availed themselves of the occasion to manifest opinions and\nengage in acts contrary to royalty: jacobinism or republicanism, which\nNapoleon in the vigour of his sway had stifled, began again to take\nbreath during his short and fleeting apparition; so that the second\nrestoration of the king found the people in every town, in every\nsociety, divided and discordant.\n\nAfter the battle, which it was unkind and unjust to refuse to call by\nthe name of \"La Belle Alliance;\"--after this battle, in which so many\nthousand human beings lost their lives,--the French submitted to\nsacrifices, galling to every man of every party among them; for in\nFrance it is permitted to every man to be a patriot. Their\nfrontier-line was remeasured in a manner unfavourable to them, in a\nsense contrary to that in which it had been marked out the year before:\nthen all that was enclave was ceded to them; now, whatever stretched out\ninto the neighbouring territory was taken from them; some fortresses\nwere abandoned; others were to be temporarily occupied by allied forces,\nfor whose sustenance the French paid what they regarded as enormous\nsums: \"the spoils of victory,\" and such they really were, at the Louvre,\nwere yielded up.\n\nLet any Englishman suppose what would be his own feelings were such\ntreatment dealt out to England by a hostile country; and how much the\nsoreness of his mind would be irritated, if he imagined, (whether truly\nor falsely imports not,) that these evils were the result of the\nmachinations of the government of that country. He would think the\ndisplay of a little ill-humour towards individuals of that country to be\nvery natural at least, if not very reasonable. I was therefore not much\nsurprised nor offended by the \"civil god-dems,\" with which we were\noccasionally saluted at Paris. At Auxerre, I overheard a god-dem which\nrather amused me. My younger son had placed a table on the balcony, and\nwas drawing a view of the church. \"Voila un petit god-dem qui\ndessine,\"[20] said they: this might even have been good-naturedly meant.\nAt Chalons-sur-Saone, as we walked in the evening by the side of the\nriver, we were greeted by hisses, low and suppressed, but still audible\nhisses. At Lyons, some soldiers, contrary to the rule of military\ndiscipline, (for they were marching in their ranks,) and contrary to the\ngallantry of the military profession, cried out \"a bas les Anglois.\"\nFrom several instances of resiliency, coldness, and alienation,\ninconsistent with the genius of the people, and their well-known\npoliteness, it was evident that the spirit of enmity was not yet\nsubsided.\n\nThe practice of barter is not so well understood in France as in\nEngland. A French shop-keeper, (many of them at least, though the number\nof such is, I believe, daily diminishing,) proposes to himself to gain,\nnot a certain profit on each article, but as much as he can obtain, the\nwealth, ignorance, and other circumstances of the customer taken into\nconsideration. A French gentleman, or, rather let us put the case, a\nFrench lady, after beating down the price of an object for half an hour,\nwill, as a last effort, leave the shop; and, if this valedictory\ndemonstration does not succeed, will return in the course of the morning\nto complete her purchase, in a renewed treaty, of which the basis is the\nprice last named: if, by these manoeuvres, a few francs are saved, the\nmorning has been well employed. If the French thus bargain amongst\nthemselves, it may easily be imagined how they would treat, in money\nmatters, with the English, supposed to be indefinitely rich, coming\nfrom a country where prices were, during the currency of paper money,\nhigher than in France, ignorant of French prices, and affording an\noccasion of political revenge.\n\nI really believe that, in many instances, the gratification of this\npassion was an incitement to overcharging, stronger even than private\ninterest. At any rate, during the first years of peace, the English are\nsaid to have thrown their money out of the window: I knew one of them at\nAvignon who did so literally. They paid English prices and gave English\ngratifications; sometimes they paid more than was demanded, as they\nsaid, for the honour of old England: having deposited a certain sum with\na banker, if the sum was spent sooner than they expected, they had only\nto return home so much the sooner; like the young Oxonian, who being\nasked how long he should stay in town, answered \"twenty pounds.\"\n\nThe French, who had any thing to dispose of for money naturally wished\nto profit by this disposition of the English, which they flatteringly\ntermed generosity; and to have the advantage of the highest prices which\nthese latter were willing to give: but, at this time, these prices were\nunknown and unsettled, and every affair of bargain and sale rose into a\ncontest. \"Quel est _votre_ prix, Monsieur?\"[21] said one, of whom I was\nbuying a parasol. The Parisian shop-keepers, when they saw an\nEnglishman, nodded, and cried, \"Speculation.\" \"On ne dit plus god-dem,\non dit speculation,\"[22] said my informant. \"As you are an Englishman,\nyou ought to pay double,\" said one, whose opinion was asked on occasion\nof an over-charge. My voiturier, who, for a certain sum, paid my\nexpenses on the road, told me that he would do this for a German family\nfor half the money. \"The inn-keepers set no bounds to their charges,\"\nsaid he, \"when they know you to be English;\" muttering besides some\nwords, from which I inferred the hostile mind above-mentioned.\n\n_La jeunesse Francaise_ (so the young men of an age for military service\naffected to call themselves, as if they were a corps apart,) seemed\nstill to breathe war and defiance, and to endeavour by fierceness of\nlook to make up for the want of cockades and epaulettes. An especial\nordinance was required to prevent all who were not officers in the army\nfrom wearing moustaches. These symptoms of a warlike temper were not\npleasing to a peaceful visitant. The whole French nation was, at this\ntime, discontented; and it was evident that some years must pass away\nbefore it could resume that amenity of manners which rendered it\nheretofore the delight of strangers. All parties were discontented.\n\nThe prudent and conciliatory conduct of the king displeased the\nroyalists. The emigrants said, that the restoration was to them no\nrestoration, since they had lost their estates; and they complained\nbitterly of that provision by which the purchasers of the national\ndomains were confirmed in their possessions: had nothing been said on\nthis matter,--had silence been observed on a subject on which themselves\nonly had a right to speak,--a great part of the lands confiscated\nduring the revolution would have been restored unconditionally, or on\nterms of easy compromise, to the ancient titulars. The clause by which,\nas the emigrants said, their estates were thus a second time given away\nwithout their consent or avowal, was reported to have been of\necclesiastical suggestion. It would be unfair to suppose any man, least\nof all an ecclesiastic, capable of deriving an uncharitable consolation\nfrom having companions in misfortune; but it is remarkable, that no\nmention was ever made of the restitution of ecclesiastical property. It\n\"died and made no sign.\" The French clergy endured this spoliation with\nthe patience of Christians and the good humour of Frenchmen, as every\none can witness who knew them in their emigration: but, on their return\nhome, they found their appointments inadequate to their services and to\nthe augmented price of the necessaries of life.\n\nThat Napoleon should descend from the throne when he could no longer\nmaintain himself upon it,--that France should re-enter within her former\nlimits,--that what was gained by victory should be lost by defeat;--all\nthis was in order. But military glory had consoled many for the loss of\nliberty and republican forms,--synonymes in their vocabulary: though\nthey needed not to go very far back in history to discover that they\ndid not always subsist together. Of military glory Napoleon had obtained\nfor the French more, beyond all comparison, than was ever gained by any\npeople within an equal number of years. Possessed of absolute power over\na great empire, he had used the means, at his disposal, of drawing to\nhimself many adherents,--of founding the fortunes of many. Frequent\nsuicides took place, after his fall, of persons whose hopes were ruined\nby that event. Some of these chose, in preference to any other mode of\nself-destruction, to throw themselves from the top of the column erected\nby Napoleon in the Place Vendome: insomuch that, when I was in Paris, an\norder was still in force that no one should be allowed to ascend the\ncolumn without a permission, that it might be ascertained that they had\nno motive but curiosity. Such were the discontents of the Bonapartists.\n\nHad Bonaparte contented himself with being the first magistrate of the\nrepublic,--had he allowed its name and forms to subsist,--he would have\nidentified himself with the cause and party of the revolution. But he\nhad put down the revolution; and in 1814 the question was no longer\nbetween a monarchical and democratic government, but between the ancient\nclaimant and the recent possessor. One of the evils, (and they were\nmany,) resulting to Napoleon from the assumption of the imperial purple,\nwas that he himself became personally the object of hostilities. Of this\nno one was more sensible than himself: he said to his friends, \"They\nwill crush, first me, then you, then France.\" France was not crushed:\nthe king returned, and the charter was given. The republicans could not\ncomplain that a monarchy, a government by _one_, was imposed upon them;\nthey had themselves submitted to it. But an argument drawn from a former\ndefeat was not suited to make them quite pleased with a second. They\nreposed; but it was the repose of lassitude, not of contented\nacquiescence.\n\nThe prudence of Louis XVIII. succeeded in uniting all parties, though\nblamed by all; in obliterating, if not the memory, at least many of the\nsensible traces of what France had endured. Both Royalists and\nNapoleonists complained that whatever the court had to dispose of was\ngiven to the other party. Just before I left England, I was advised by a\nfriend, lately returned from Paris, by no means to venture into France.\n\"If the king dies,\" said he, \"and his health is very bad, there will\ncertainly be a kick-up.\" My counsellor saw a very little way into\nfuturity: he himself, being about the age of Louis XVIII. died within\ntwo years after. Five years later the king terminated in peace an\nanxious but successful reign: the demise of the crown caused not the\nleast disturbance; its quiet devolution on his successor seems rather to\nhave strengthened the ancient notion of hereditary right.\n\nParis, since the time to which my account of it refers, has been\nimproved and increased. It is the lot of all old cities in a state of\ngreat prosperity to have a new town built near them: of this London,\nEdinburgh, Marseilles, Lyons, Bath, and Liverpool are examples. \"Mend\n_you_?\" said the chairman to Mr. Pope, in reply to his accustomed\nexclamation,--\"God mend me,\" \"Mend _you_? it would not be half the\ntrouble to make another.\" Old Paris is, however, worth mending: the case\nis by no means so desperate as that of a deformed man like Pope. They\nhave begun to make trottoirs. When I was in Paris, the trottoirs being\npaved like the middle of the street, persons on foot had no inducement\nto walk on them in preference to the middle of the street; people\nexposed merchandises there, roasted coffee, blacked shoes, or played at\ncards: the cabriolets ran along them where there was a vacant space,\nsometimes where there was no vacant space at all. When the trottoirs\nshall be such as carriages cannot drive on, the foot passengers will\noccupy them, and the encumbrances, above-mentioned, will be removed of\ncourse.\n\nI went up to a man who was cleaning a lantern in the Rue Neuve des\nMathurins, and made him understand that I wished to be instructed in\nwhat manner the popular sentence of condemnation \"a la lanterne\" was\nexecuted in the beginning of the revolution. I had remarked, that he was\nold enough to have remembered such scenes; when near him, I saw a face\nthat testified that he had in all probability been an agent in them: he\ntold me drily, \"On ote la lanterne, et on monte l'homme a sa place.\"[23]\nHe spoke in the present tense, be it observed: the recollection of such\nachievements was fresh in his mind, and he showed no symptom that it was\nunpleasant to him. These lanterns have a cumbrous and heavy appearance\nin the day time; and hanging over the middle of the street, they stop\nall passing while they are cleaned or lighted. They have begun to light\nthe streets of Paris with gas: the pipes, I am informed, are not\nair-tight; but, once undertaken, this enterprise will no doubt be soon\nbrought to perfection, as well as others already in contemplation.\n\nParis, in the old parts of it, is, as the French express it, _mal\npercee_. The way to remedy this evil is obvious. I will venture to\nsuggest one improvement,--that the Rue St. Honore be continued, no\nmatter whether in a straight or curved line, through the streets of St.\nDenis and St. Martin, by piercing these two streets, to the line of\nstreets which lead to the Place de l'Elephant and the Rue du Fauxbourg\nSt. Antoine.\n\nI will also take the liberty of hinting that a populous city can well\nafford to keep its streets clean: the streets themselves pay this\nexpense; and the greater the quantity of dirt, the better they defray\nit. I have sometimes passed into the most thickly-inhabited parts of the\ncity of London, and have been surprised to observe the streets to be\ncleaner than in Mary-la-bonne and at the west end of the town, where the\npopulation is less condensed. The reason is plain: it oftener becomes\nworth while to carry away the material of the dung-heap from the streets\nof the city, than from the quarter where they are wider in proportion to\nthe population. But every parish of the English capital receives a sum\ntowards its poor-rate, in exchange for the privilege of cleaning its\nstreets. At Paris nothing is wanting but a reglement de police.\n\nParis is extending itself, towards the west and the north especially: in\ntime, the Boulevard without the walls may become a second interior\nBoulevard. While I doubted whether I should continue in Paris, or go to\nlive in a provincial town, I looked at several hotels, houses with a\n_porte cochere_,[24] in the Fauxbourg St. Germain: the rent demanded for\nthese was three or four thousand francs: at present they are let for ten\nthousand francs a year. The speculators in building, of course, find\ntheir profit in what they undertake so largely.\n\nI congratulated those who had visited Paris in 1814. Many highly\nestimable works of art of the French school begin however now to supply\nthe place of those taken away by their old owners. English travellers in\nFrance, and those with whom they have to do, understand each other\nbetter than at the time when I began my journey; and more accommodations\nto the English taste are provided. The rivalry between France and\nEngland will subsist as long as the geographical position of the two\ncountries: but no people are more willing than the French, in ordinary\ncases, and when not stimulated by strong incitements, to distinguish\nbetween the nation and the individual. Thus far we may all be\ncosmopolites; though nations be divided, let men be united. Indeed, I\nobserved a sensible difference in the behaviour of my neighbours at\nAvignon, from the day which Louis XVIII. wisely declared to be the\nhappiest of his life,--when no banner but that of France floated within\nits territory.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[20] Look at that little god-dem who is drawing.\n\n[21] What is _your_ price, Sir?\n\n[22] They do not say, \"god-dem\" any longer; they say \"speculation.\"\n\n[23] They take down the lamp, and mount the man up in its place.\n\n[24] Gate at which a coach can enter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VI.\n\n\nOn the sixteenth of August, at one in the afternoon, the carriage came\nto the door which was to convey us from Paris. We took a light and hasty\nlunch, or nuncheon, or noonshine, or meridian repast, while the trunks\nwere tying on; and at two, were ready to depart; when up steps the\nmistress of the house, requesting me to verify the inventory. \"Why did\nyou not come sooner?\"--\"We were unwilling to disturb you while you were\ndining.\"--\"Why did not you propose this business to me this morning when\nI paid my rent?\"--\"We did not know you were going away.\" It is very\nimprobable that I should not have made them understand that it was\nbecause I was going away that I paid my rent; but it is one disadvantage\nof being a foreigner, that all, who find it their interest, may choose\nto misunderstand.\n\nI had taken lodgings for short periods in London, and at what are called\nwatering-places in England, where no inventory was made, consequently\nnone was verified: but here confidence was not so well established, or\nthere were other reasons. It was the usage of the country; it was\nnecessary to submit.\n\nThe apartment was furnished with an abundance of mirrors, some handsome\npieces of mahogany, a rare wood in France; sofas, and fauteuils, and a\nmost plentiful lack of almost every necessary article. My cook had\nhardly wherewithal to prepare our meals, and was obliged to sleep in the\nkitchen: a chamber had been promised; but the key of this chamber was\nnot to be found when the lodging was taken, and the door was never\nopened afterwards. Kitchen utensils had been promised, and, during the\nfirst fortnight, frequently demanded: at last the silence of despair\nsucceeded to hopeless importunity, as a fine writer might perhaps\nexpress himself. But, to the inventory.\n\nThe grand articles were quickly dispatched: luckily my children had\nbroken no looking-glasses, though surrounded by them. But when we came\nto the china and the crockery,--ay, then was the question: after the\nbona fide broken had been disposed of, about which there could be no\ndispute, except that some were broken only because they were already\ncracked,--then was the question whether such or such articles were\ndamaged by us, or before we came to the house. An ornamental china vase\nhad been supplied, and its fellow promised: this fellow jar was now\nfound to have but one ear, whereas its mate had two. The edges of the\nfracture were rounded by use, and dirt was seen in the interstices. But\nI paid what was required, for the carriage was at the door.\n\nI have heard of a travelling Englishman, of whom was demanded, on his\nleaving his apartment, the price of a cracked pane of glass: his\nconscience acquitted him of the deed: after having for some time\nfruitlessly pleaded his innocence, he quietly raised his cane, and broke\nin pieces the cause of the altercation. \"This pane shall be paid for no\nmore,\" said he, patriotically mindful of the interests of his\nsuccessors.\n\nAt length we were seated in our coach. It was a roomy, handsome berline,\nholding conveniently six persons: on the outside was a covered seat or\ncabriolet: the place of the voiturier, conductor, or coachman was\nbetween the fore-wheels: the carriage was drawn by three horses. When\nthree horses were proposed to me by the master voiturier, I started with\namazement. \"Why not four?\"--\"That would be too many.\"--\"Why not\ntwo?\"--\"That would be too few.\" He gravely assured me that such was the\npractice, and he spoke truth. English travellers and readers of travels\nare, by this time, well acquainted with voitures drawn by three horses;\nbut in 1818, I believe many of my compatriots shared my surprise at so\n_odd_ a number.\n\nI engaged this voiture to convey me to Avignon for eight hundred francs.\nFor forty-eight francs a day, the coachman was to pay my expenses at the\ninns: the price was rather extravagant, as four of my six children\nmight, as the master himself calculated, be rated as two grown persons:\nbut I insisted on coffee in the morning before we should set off, my\nfamily being not yet accustomed to travel till ten or eleven o'clock\nin the morning without any breakfast, though such is the usual practice\non the continent. Besides, this part of the agreement was revocable\nat my pleasure. I was also at liberty to quit my carriage at\nChalons-sur-Saone, paying a proportionate share of the price.\n\nI had seen, at the master's stables, three very good horses which I\nengaged for my journey. The day before my departure, he told me these\nhorses were gone in another direction, but that I should have three\nothers equally good. As I saw no reason why he should prefer another\ncustomer to me, I assented. He supplied me with two stout horses and a\nvery weakly one. Louis, my coachman, told me, afterwards, that his\nmaster had found an opportunity of selling the three horses I had first\nseen, and to make up my number had been obliged to buy one from a fiacre\nthe very day of my departure. It is impossible to be aware of all the\noblique means and motives of men of the character of this voiturier. All\nthe defence that can be prepared against them is, to see every thing,\nwrite down every thing, and, above all, to have time at command.\n\nThis mode of travelling by the voiturier is now generally adopted by\ntravellers of the first respectability, and where the whole voiture is\nengaged, differs in no respect from travelling in a private carriage,\nexcept that the right of property in the horses and carriage is but\ntemporary, and the coachman does not wear a livery. I am acquainted with\npersons, who would not choose to be considered otherwise than as persons\nof distinction, who have travelled in this way. I have seen attestations\nof the good conduct of the coachman or voiturier signed with names, some\nof which were known to me, and sealed with armorial bearings, according\nto the English use abroad. I dwell on this point, because voituriers are\nunknown in England, and the mode of travelling is in low repute abroad,\nwhere, from the way in which it is practised, it is impossible it should\nbe creditable.\n\nIn France and Italy there are but few stage-coaches, and no good ones\nbut between the towns on the channel and Paris. The post-houses furnish\nno carriages, but horses only. In every great town there are persons\nwhose trade is to keep carriages ready for those who want to take\njourneys, but have no carriage of their own. Two or three places being\nengaged, the voiturier, now afloat, makes up his cargo as he can: rather\nthan have any vacant space in his carriage, he will sell it at a low\nrate to such as can afford to pay but low prices; he then makes up with\ndead lumber what is wanting in weight of live stock; and the good\npeople, thus assembled, thus encumbered, proceed as they can under the\nauspices of the conductor, who presides at their meals. All this\naccounts very well for some English making a difficulty in avowing their\nhaving travelled by the voiturier, and for the French aubergistes and\nothers confounding, at first, all inmates of carriages of the same\ndenomination. I do not suppose that any respectable English family has\ntravelled in the manner above described. I do not know that any single\npersons have done so. It is evident that a voiture, engaged for the sole\nuse and service of him who hires it, is \"quite another thing.\"\n\nI would have purchased a berline at Paris, and travelled post,--a plan\nnot more expensive, as I could have gone twice as far in the day as with\nthe same horses it was possible to do,--but the regulations of the post\nnot only require six horses for six persons, but make no provision for\nany number more than six in the same carriage,--a case as little\ncontemplated as parricide among the ancient Romans. I must therefore\nhave had two carriages, or disputed the question at every post-house.\nAdd to this, that a travelling carriage is not well-suited for a town,\nnor a town carriage for travelling.\n\nThe places in the cabriolet were a perpetual subject of contest among my\nchildren, and I had enough to do to arbitrate who should ride outside.\nLouis, the coachman, was very good-natured to them, and never complained\nof the frequent interruptions and trouble which they caused him. This\nwas the more laudable in him, as he was a Breton; and the Bretons, like\nthose from whom they derive their origin,--the ancient Britons of\nWales,--are said to have _la tete chaude_:[25] Louis, on several\noccasions, was hot-headed enough. He had served, as had almost every man\nat this time in France, and had been a sous-officier; and, while my\neldest son and I walked by his side in mounting the hills, regaled us\nwith accounts of his military exploits, amongst which he seemed to\nconsider his duels as giving the most indisputable proof of personal and\nindividual courage. He said that there had been a great deal of\n_coquinerie_[26] in the revolution,--an opinion in which he was by no\nmeans singular; and that, if it should break out again, there would be\nmore assassination than ever. Neither was he singular in his\napprehension of new troubles: a priest, whom I met at Paris, told me,\n\"la revolution ne fait que commencer.\"[27] His wish assuredly was not\n\"father to that thought.\" All this was pleasant hearing to a man who had\nembarked his family in an expedition like mine. The event proves the\nwisdom of the king, whom his party declared not to be a royalist.\n\nThe horse, that had passed the morning in the streets of Paris in his\nquality of hackney-coach horse, was in no condition for a journey. Louis\nsaid he was tired with waiting so long in the street: he seemed to allude\nto the time employed in verifying the inventory; he explained afterwards\nhow and why the expression was equivocal. I had made, on this subject,\nuseless because tardy reproaches to the master. The horse had, however,\ntime to recover his strength, as I would not quit Paris till the\nafternoon of the first day of my journey, it being Sunday, and had\nplanned to pass the evening of the second, and morning of the third day,\nat Fontainebleau. We arrived by the light of the full moon at Essonne,\nwhere a good supper, with a fine dessert of fruit, and the air of the\ncountry, gave us high expectations of the pleasures of a journey to\nthe south of France.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[25] To be hot-headed.\n\n[26] Roguery.\n\n[27] The revolution is only just beginning.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VII.\n\n\nThe son of the aubergiste at Essonne was, as almost every Frenchman is,\na conversable man: he talked to me, while I waited to set off in the\nmorning, of the English who lived or had lived near Essonne; among\nothers, of the Duc de Fitzjames, who, if I understood him right, had a\ncountry house in the neighbourhood. \"Why do you call him English?\" said\nI. \"The name is English.\"--\"The family has been French for more than a\ncentury.\" He wished for an explanation. \"It is descended from James II.\nof England, whom we chased away because he was an honest man, as you put\nto death Louis XVI. because he was Bienfaisant.\" He answered, with much\ndiscretion, \"On s'oublie quelquefois.\"[28]\n\nThe fine old oaks and the green rocks of the forest of Fontainebleau\npleased us much: at intervals and openings of the wood we caught very\nagreeable views of the distant country. We descended into the town, by\nno means a handsome one; but our business was to see the palace.\n\nIt is in a low situation, surrounded by hills, not bold or romantic, but\nof pleasing forms; at a sufficient distance, so that it is sheltered\nwithout being straitly enclosed. It is a convenient and very large\nhouse, with ample space for the display of all the pomp of royalty, The\nchapel is equal in size, though not in ornament, to that of Versailles.\nThere is a handsome gallery which Napoleon furnished with busts of great\nmen, whose pretensions to the title of \"great\" are so different, that\nthey certainly would never have met except as busts in a gallery. There\nis a theatre, a banquetting room, and several suites of fine apartments.\nOne apartment, or set of rooms, had been inhabited successively by the\nComte d'Artois, now King Charles X. by the Pope Pius VII. and by his\ngrace the Duke of Wellington. The Indian fable says, that a palace is a\ncaravansera; but such a succession of guests surpasses fable in\nstrangeness.\n\nIn the chamber of the king was a state bed of suitable magnificence:\npassing into a second chamber, in which was a very low bed, I remarked\nto our conductor that this bed would be more convenient for his majesty;\nand the conductor, after a little hesitation, allowed that, as I\nsuspected, the king did, in effect, sleep on this bed. George III.\ninhabited the Queen's palace in London, and the lodge near the castle at\nWindsor: he was said to live always next door to himself. The king of\nFrance, at Fontainebleau, sleeps in the next room to his own; at least,\nLouis XVIII. did so.\n\nA small, ordinary, round table was pointed out as a curiosity: it was\nthat on which Napoleon signed the act of his abdication in favour of\nNapoleon II. The cession was enforced; the condition was of course\nneglected. Napoleon retired to Elba, an emperor without empire, a father\nof a family deprived of the company of his wife and son; too weak to be\nsafe, yet too great not to be feared: disgusted with the anomalies, of\nhis situation, he made an effort that, in its consequences, plunged him\ninto one, in which there were, at least, no inconsistencies to be\ncomplained of: all was plain and intelligible: the high blood of Europe\navenged itself on the Avocat's son, who, if he had been _Monsieur le\nComte de Bonaparte_, would have been treated with more consideration.\n\nThe garden of Fontainebleau is handsomely laid out in straight walks,\nsquare pieces of water, and abundance of shade, at this season very\ndesirable. As we left the garden, my younger son ran off in pursuit of a\nwater rat, and we followed, in pursuit of him, the course of one of\nthose beautiful fountains from which the place derives its name. As I\nlooked round for him, I observed an elderly man, decorated with one or\nmore orders, who accosted me with much politeness, and asked what I was\nlooking for. Wishing to obtain information respecting any further object\nof curiosity, I began:--\"Monsieur, je suis etranger, et--\" He\ninterrupted: \"Je le vois bien, Monsieur, et c'est pourquoi je veux vous\netre utile.\"[29] He asked if we had seen the chateau; and, on my\nreplying in the affirmative, expressed his regret that he had not met\nwith us sooner. I learned afterwards that he was the Marechal Duc de\nCoigny, at that time gouverneur du chateau de Fontainebleau.\n\nHe directed me to a treillis which ran the whole length of a garden wall\nexposed to the south. The situation was even too favourable for the\nvines that covered the treillis; as, though very fine and healthy, they\nhad pushed out many large branches without fruit. Grapes however, there\nwere in abundance; and, had they been ripe, no doubt M. le Gouverneur\nwould have invited us to eat of them. At any rate, the fox's reasoning\nhad here no place.\n\nThe next day we arrived at Sens. In the cathedral of this place is a\nvery fine piece of sculpture, the tomb of the Dauphin son of Louis XV.\nIt will hardly be believed that, during the revolutionary fury, the\npopulace were only restrained by force from breaking in pieces the\nstatues of this tomb, out of hatred to royalty. I observed to the\nsacristan:--\"Le bon peuple de Sens n'est pas apparemment un peuple de\nbon sens.\"[30] In a chapel, under the invocation of St. Thomas of\nCanterbury, is a painting representing his interview with the pope at\nthis place, to which he retired during his unjust exile. The memory of\nThomas a Becket has been unmercifully slandered by our philosophical and\nprotestant historians. It is their way.\n\nAt Auxerre we found an inn very pleasantly situated on the banks of the\nYonne with the vine-covered hills of Burgundy in full view. It was\nfortunate that the inn was agreeable, and the people of the house very\ngood-humoured, the chances being very much against both the one and the\nother; for here we were detained one day by the illness of Mrs. ----. A\nphysician attended, who, on his second visit, recommended the use of\nthe hot bath, which removed the cause of the complaint, and all was well\nagain.\n\nHot baths are to be found in every great town in France, at a very\nmoderate price,--a circumstance which proves that they are much in use,\nas it is the number of customers only that renders the article cheap.\nThe French are in general cleanly in their persons, whatever their\nstreets may be: they are also cleanly in their houses, though they have\nnot the fastidious and troublesome neatness of the English, nor the\nperpetual scrubbings and polishings of the Dutch. Household linen, both\nfor bed and table, is plentiful amongst them. I began at Auxerre the use\nof the hot bath, which I have continued every summer that I have not\npassed on the sea coast. In winter it is too cold,--not to go into hot\nwater, but to come out of it.\n\nAs we travelled neither with great speed, nor far in one day, nor in the\nheat of the day, the physician, on calling to take leave, said we might\ncontinue our journey without any risk of inconvenience to his patient.\nWe ascended therefore that range of hills among which are found the\nsources of those rivers which flow into the ocean by the Seine and the\nMeuse, and of those which, however slowly they glide at first, are\nprecipitated into the Mediterranean by the Rhone. This tract of country\ncontinued for two days, and is a very interesting one. Let those who\nfancy all riches to be derived from commerce only, compare this broad\nridge with the plain on each side of it, and they will perceive that a\nfertile soil ought to enter for something into the computation of the\nwealth of nations. This mountainous region, in the part where we crossed\nit, and, by parity of reasoning, in every part of it, is cultivated with\nthe greatest care and industry: it produces wine that ranks in the\nhighest estimation both at home and in foreign countries: yet the\ninhabitants seem poor, the towns are large villages, the villages are\ncollections of ruinous huts. Yet had this poverty not found its way into\nthe inns, it would have been a most pleasing country to travel through.\n\nThe summits of the hills were covered with wood, wherever there was a\nsufficient depth of earth to admit a tree to be planted; the sides were\noverspread with vines ranged in order, well pruned, and glowing with\nfruit now nearly ripe. At the lowest declivities of the hills were corn\nfields; in the valleys, through almost every one of which ran a stream\nof the purest water, were pastures; and here was seen, what is so much\nwanted in southern landscape,--verdure and cattle.\n\nIt may be remembered that, in the year 1816, large masses of ice\ndetached themselves from the coasts of the Arctic regions, where they\nhad been accumulating for centuries, and that huge mountains of ice were\nmet with at a very low latitude in the Atlantic, where it finally\nthawed, and mingled with the waters of the ocean, but not without having\nspread cold and moisture over almost every country of the west of\nEurope. I grew my own corn at this time; but was obliged this year to\nbuy corn of the preceding harvest, as, of my own, could be made nothing\nbetter than an unwholesome paste instead of bread. The three vintages\nbefore this season of fusion of icebergs, and diffusion of humidity, had\nbeen but indifferently good: perhaps the god Mars has been more\nworshipped than the god Bacchus, and thence, notwithstanding the\nwell-known confidence of Napoleon in the principle of population, hands\nwere wanting to prune and hoe the vines. The vintages of 1816, and of\nthe following year, had almost entirely failed. France was now\nabsolutely threatened with a dearth of wine: the stock in hand was\nnearly exhausted. But the promise of the present vintage put every one\nin high spirits: I was assured by the delighted Burgundians that it\nwould equal in produce, and far surpass in quality, those of the five\npreceding years. In effect, the wine of 1818 was afterwards compared\nwith that of the year of the comet, still cited at this time in\nadvertisements of sales of wine.\n\nAt every step, we met with long cars laden with barrels or staves of\nbarrels; the coopers were all in full activity at the doors of their\nshops; all the world was in high expectation; and our sympathy with\ntheir pleasure was heightened by the cool refreshing air, bringing with\nit cheerfulness, health, and elasticity.\n\nSomething in very deed was required to put or keep us in good humour,\nfor the inns were bad enough to try the patience of that old patriarchal\nexemplar of patience more frequently cited than imitated. Of eatables\nindeed there was enough, and the beds were not bad; but the wine was\nsour; the peaches as hard as those found on the chimney-piece of a\nlady's boudoir; and the grapes, though very pretty to look at, wanted a\nmonth's longer exposure to the sun: the apples even were not ripe. When\nany thing was asked for beyond objects of the first and most obvious\nnecessity, the answer, was, \"il n'y en a point.\"[31] I asked for an\nextinguisher. \"Il n'y en a point.\"--\"How do they put out candles in this\ncountry?\"--\"Ma foi, Monsieur, mais on les souffle.\"[32]--\"Not always,\"\nsaid I, pointing to black and greasy spots on the wall. Of the seven\nways of putting out a candle which Dean Swift has taught, I prefer, in\ncases of necessity, that by which the light and the odour are\nextinguished at once; and here the floor was the better for it.\n\nTo account for the poverty of a country, in which is found, in\nabundance, so rich a product as wine, it must be recollected how small a\nproportion the land covered with vines bears to the whole tract. This\nreasoning may be usefully applied to other countries similarly\ncircumstanced.\n\nOn the third day after leaving Auxerre, we arrived, by a very steep\ndescent, on the plain of the Saone;--a plain at some time covered with\nwater, which, depositing a loamy and fertile sediment, retired gradually\ninto beds of rivers. The surface of the earth clearly indicates that it\nhas once been sea without shore; the rivers that are still supplied by\nperennial sources in the higher elevations, hold on their course; many\nare dried up, leaving valleys to be watered by the dews and the clouds\nof heaven.\n\nThe plain of the Saone continues below Macon: its products are such as\nmay be expected on strong land in such a climate; among others, bled de\nTurquie, as the French call maize or Indian corn. Arthur Young, in his\nadmirable Tour, divides France into four agricultural regions: in the\nfirst the vine is not; in the second maize is not; in the third the\nolive is not; in the fourth, Minerva, Ceres, Bacchus, Pomona, all\nconspire and dispense their united gifts. I was pleased to hear some\nFrench speak highly of Young's Tour: they said it had told them many\nthings they did not know before, and had been of great service to them.\nIt is thus that, while nation wars against nation, man may communicate\ngood to man.\n\nThe coche d'eau, as it is whimsically called, is a passage-boat which\nplies between Chalons and Lyons: places are reserved in it for those who\nmay arrive by the diligence from Paris. It is roomy enough, but I found\nit very dirty: to remain under the deck, at this season of the year,\nwould have been stifling, and on the deck there was no tent or awning. I\ndetermined to proceed in my berline.\n\nWe made our noon-tide repast at Tournus, where I walked into the\nchurch; for in France the churches are open every day, and all day long;\nand there I saw an image of the Blessed Virgin in the dress of a lady of\nthe court of Louis XIV. I talked afterwards with a well-meaning Catholic\non the absurdity of this costume: he observed, that if the Blessed\nVirgin were exhibited in the dress of a carpenter's wife, the people\nwould not respect her. The people are not so silly: they, at least, are\n\"not ashamed of the cross of Christ,\" whatever the great may be: why\nshould the poor be ashamed of the poverty of the mother of the Redeemer?\n\nMacon, where we slept, is a flourishing town: we left it at sun-rise, as\nwe were to pass a steep and lofty hill in our road to Lyons. From this\nheight we descried the mountains of Switzerland and Savoy, amongst which\nMont Blanc was seen with his snow-topped summit. The view was\nindistinct, but imagination supplied the defects of the \"visual nerve.\"\nThe Alps are in the domain of history and poetry.\n\nWe alighted, or descended as the French say, at Lyons, at the Hotel du\nParc. It was the fete de St. Louis; the city was illuminated: of these\nsplendors we had a good view, as the Hotel de Ville was opposite our\nwindows. The people danced in the Place Terreaux all night, and all\nnight we listened to the sound of their rejoicings, for the bugs\nhindered us from sleeping. In the morning I complained of them to the\nfemme de chambre, who positively denied that there were any in the\nhouse. I showed her five that lay slain on the sheet: she still\npositively denied that there were any in the house. A modest assurance\nis certainly very becoming. I laughed in anger, which, though not quite\nso poetical as laughing in tears, is equally natural, when unqualified\nanger avails nothing. I complained to the mistress of the house: she\nadmitted the fact without requiring ocular demonstration,--a superfluous\nmotive of credibility; and promised other beds: but, as probably no\nchange could be made for the better, we changed not.\n\nThe cathedral church of Lyons is worthy of the metropolitan see of\nFrance; it is in the style of the florid or latest Gothic, and highly\nornamented: it is very _large_; a word that may be here taken in its\nFrench sense of _broad_; for it is in breadth that it exceeds other\nchurches equally long. It had been much injured during the revolution;\nbut what is most beautiful in it could not be destroyed without the\ndestruction of the building itself. The chapel of St. Louis is superbly\ndecorated.\n\nPlace Bellecour, or Place Louis XIV. or Place Bonaparte, by the\npertinacity of prescription, retains its first name, and is indeed a\nsquare which great men might be ambitious of having named after them. It\nis almost too vast: that is, the distance of the sides from each other\ndestroys its unity: its extent, however, makes it an agreeable\npromenade; on the south side are rows of trees. The streets in the\nneighbourhood of this square are handsome and well built: the rest of\nthe town is what an old manufacturing populous city may be supposed to\nbe: the quay on the majestic Rhone is a striking sight. Following the\ncourse of the river along a raised road or dike, we arrive at the piece\nof ground recovered from the river by means of this dike; which ground\nwas given by the municipal authorities to Napoleon, who intended to\nbuild a palace on this spot, at the junction of the Saone and Rhone. I\ntalked with a labourer who had been employed in levelling the land:\nfurther than this, the work was not proceeded in. The situation is\nadmirable: a lofty edifice,--and can one suppose that the palace of\nNapoleon would have been any other than a lofty edifice?--would have\ncommanded a view of Lyons and of the surrounding hills and country:\nbesides all this, the river presents here the appearance of a large and\nbeautiful lake, its stream being hidden, at a little distance from the\npoint of confluence, by intervening ground. Whether Paris, Lyons, or\nConstantinople was destined to be the capital of the French empire is a\ndoubt, for the solution of which we must now interrogate the grave.\n\nThe cathedral of Vienne is a very fine church, and the loftiest within\nof any I have ever seen, and I have seen all the cathedrals in England.\nIn the earliest age of Christianity, at Vienne, Lyons, and Tournus,\nthose whom the church honours under the common name of the martyrs of\nVienne, sealed their faith with their blood.\n\nWe passed the Isere by a ferry; the bridge, destroyed four years before,\nduring the war, not having been yet rebuilt; and this on the high road\nfrom Paris to Marseilles.\n\nValence was the last prison of Pope Pius VI. for here he died.\nPhilosophers and protestants flattered themselves that he was the last\nof the popes: they forgot the reasoning of Gamaliel.\n\nAt an indifferent inn where we rested at mid-day, at the sign of the\nGrand Monarque, among other scribblings on the wall of our apartment, I\nobserved a note to the following effect:--\"Englishmen, beware of the\nGrand Monarque! I paid five francs for my bed,--a bed in this\nchamber!!! I paid seven francs for my supper.\" The writer states of\nwhat dishes his moderate supper consisted, complains of the wine, and\nconcludes with some indignant and patriotic effusions.\n\nWe were now in the country of the olive, and the flat roofs indicated\nthat we were to pass a winter very different from any that we had\nhitherto experienced; a winter without snow. The whole road from Lyons\nto Avignon may be considered as beautiful: we rarely quitted the banks\nof the Rhone, and always with regret: on each side of the river are fine\nhills, surmounted with chateaus, many of which had the picturesque\nadvantage of being in ruins.\n\nThe heat did not incommode us, except in the beginning of the afternoon\nof two days out of the five employed in this journey from Lyons, where,\nas an Avignonais observed, the north begins, and where, of course, the\nsouth began to us. Madame de Stael says--\"Le vrai midi commence a\nNaples.\"[33] Ask where's the north?\n\nThe badness of the inns would have been, at this season of the year, but\na trifling inconvenience, but for the bugs; at the last inn at which we\nslept on the road they were in swarms. I complained to the innkeeper: he\nsaid there might, perchance, be one or two, \"mais cela doit etre une\nespece de miracle.\"[34] Almost every one has poor relations or friends\nof whom he is ashamed, but of whom he cannot get rid without adopting\nthe ingenious expedient of the Vicar of Wakefield,--an expedient\nunfortunately not applicable to bugs, \"non missura cutem nisi plena\ncruoris;\" although their hosts and entertainers are sufficiently\nunwilling to acknowledge their presence.\n\nAt Orange we passed under a triumphal arch, called of Caius Marius, much\nfiner and better preserved than any edifice of the same kind at Rome.\nHere are also the remains of an amphitheatre encumbered with buildings.\nHere we saw the process of winding the silk from the worm: the cocon or\negg is thrown into boiling water to dissolve the gum. At Skegness, on\nthe Lincolnshire coast, I have seen panier-fulls of living shrimps\ntreated in the same manner.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[28] People forget themselves sometimes.\n\n[29] \"Sir, I am a stranger.\"--\"So I perceive, Sir, and for that reason I\nwish to be of service to you.\"\n\n[30] The good people of Sens are, apparently, not a people of good\nsense.\n\n[31] There is none.\n\n[32] Faith, Sir, they blow them out.\n\n[33] The true south begins at Naples.\n\n[34] That must be a sort of miracle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VIII.\n\n\nThe entrance into Avignon prepossesses a stranger in its favour: he\npasses through a gate of modern construction into a square in which are\nseveral well-grown trees; in front is the theatre, on each side a large\ninn and other houses: this is called the _Place de la Comedie_. We were\nset down at the Palais Royal, where we found good chambers and beds. Hot\nbaths, _a l'instar de Paris_, as the sign expressed it, were opposite\nour inn, and the next morning some of the family took advantage of them.\nI paid Louis, my coachman, the balance of his account, for I had\nadvanced him money on the road; and gave him such a generous bonne main,\nthat he was, I saw, ashamed of having once or twice made us fare ill on\nthe road. The sum of the expenses of my journey from Paris, not\nincluding the bonne main, was a little more than sixteen hundred francs.\n\nA banker, or dealer in money only, is not to be found, except in the\nlargest commercial towns of France, and provincial notes are unknown.\nThe Parisian banker had referred me to a _negociant_ and manufacturer\nof silk, who, during my stay at Avignon, supplied the absence of a\nregular priest of Plutus; loading me, at my pleasure, with heavy\nfive-franc pieces, for which he required only good bills on Paris, or on\nLondon, where also he had a correspondence. I am obliged to call him a\n_negociant_, as _marchand_ means a shop-keeper; nay, a dealer in the\npettiest wares is called a merchant: a seller of milk is a _marchand de\nlait_. As for shops, they have disappeared: every shop is a _magasin_,\nso that France is not a _nation boutiquiere_, whatever England may be. I\ncalled on my banker this morning, and consulted him on my establishment.\n\nWe retired to rest early in the evening, but were soon after disturbed\nby the noise of loud voices below: it ceased after a short hubbub. On\ninquiring the cause next day, the waiter told us that the English prince\nhad descended at the Palais Royal, but that the authorities had\npresented themselves, and had engaged him to pass to the Hotel d'Europe,\nwhere they had prepared for his reception; and that the noise was caused\nby the passage of the prince and his suite, attended by the authorities.\n\nThis was a very prudent, but rather an imperfect statement: it was the\ntruth, but not the whole truth. The fact was that the Duke of\nGloucester, in his tour through France, arrived at Avignon: he had sent\nforward a courier, who had given orders for his reception at our inn,\nwhere he was set down; but, while he was taking tea, the prefect of the\ndepartment and the mayor of the city waited on him to request that he\nwould accept of the hospitality of the town, and representing that\npreparations had been made accordingly at the Hotel d'Europe. His Royal\nHighness thought proper to accede to this polite invitation. Madame\nMoulin, the mistress of our inn, enraged at the loss of the honour and\nprofit of the prince's company, and transported beyond the bounds of\ndiscretion, broke out into violent invectives against M. le Prefet and\nM. le Maire, who, to punish an insult offered to them in the presence of\nthe English prince, committed Madame Moulin to prison. Moulin told me\nthis story, adding, \"Ma femme est tres sensible.\"[35] If her sensibility\nprovoked her to make all the clamour we heard at ten o'clock the evening\nbefore, she certainly merited, and was probably benefited by, the\nrestraint imposed on her, which, by the intercession of the prince,\nlasted only twenty hours.\n\nMoulin has as much the appearance of a _bon vivant_ as if he were an\nEnglish landlord, but with a cast of French manners. A very pretty young\nEnglish lady (so she was described to me,) admired his great\nNewfoundland dog, but said, \"M. Moulin, I am afraid of him: will he bite\nme?\"--\"Non, Mademoiselle; mon chien ne vous mordera pas: fut il un\ntigre, il lecheroit une si belle main.\"[36]\n\nI called on the Prefet, who received me with much politeness; and, when\nI announced my intention of settling at Avignon, felicitated the city on\nthe acquisition it was about to make. It is regulated that no one shall\nbe prefect of a department of which he is a native, or to which his\nfamily belongs. This rule proceeds on the principle, recognised amongst\nus by the circuits of the twelve judges, which supposes that justice\nwill be more impartially administered by strangers than by those who may\nbe liable to the influence of local connexions. The prefect of Vaucluse\nwas of the department of the Rhone, and member of the chamber of\nDeputies for that department.\n\nI called on the Mayor, and was much surprised to find, invested with\nthat office, not a man resembling an English alderman or a good\nbourgeois, but a meagre, old noble, adorned with the croix de St. Louis,\nand with the manners of his caste. In the American war he had been\ncaptain of a ship of the line; he had emigrated, and been despoiled of\nhis property during the revolution; had passed three years of his\nemigration in London, where he had learned to admire tea and _tost_. On\nhis return, he had married a rich wife who had just left him a widower;\nhe showed me the weepers on his coat sleeves as an excuse for not\nreturning my visit. He had recovered some of the wrecks of his fortune,\nand had repurchased his house; part of which had been pulled down by him\nwho had bought it as national property, that, when compelled to\nrestitution, as was expected, on the return of the king, he might secure\nat least the price of the materials. M. le Maire had built a house for\nhimself on the ruins of the part pulled down: of the part left standing\nhe had already made a detached house, which he offered to me. I promised\nto look at it.\n\nAnd now began my search for a house, which I conducted according to my\nEnglish notions and prepossessions. In the south of France, or in Italy,\na man of twenty thousand francs a year lives in a larger house than a\nman of an income of as many pounds sterling inhabits in London. In\nEngland, a nine months winter, an enormous tax on windows, a duty on\nbricks, timber, and glass, reduce us to content ourselves with small\nhouses; but in these countries, large rooms, lofty ceilings, wide\nstaircases, are required by the climate, and by no means astonish the\nminds of those who are used to them. Things on this scale of vastness I\nhad frequently seen in England, particularly in country-houses, but had\nnot been, as yet, familiarized with them.\n\nI visited an hotel in which Charles IV. of Spain had been lodged on his\njourney from Paris to Rome, after his abdication at Bayonne. I was\ndesired, by the man of affairs, to determine what apartments I should\nwant, and then the rent might be fixed. The house was an agreeable one,\nbut appeared in too grand a style for me: I told the man of business it\nmight do very well for a prince, or, par occasion, for a king of Spain,\nand declined all further treaty. I have no doubt, I might have been as\ncheaply lodged here as I was in the house I afterwards rented. There\noccurred besides another English prejudice: I was to have but a part of\nthe house: who might they be who should inhabit the other part? An\nEnglishman likes to have his house to himself; it is his castle: a\nprivilege, by the by, which the present chancellor of the exchequer has\nrestored to him, by taking off the tax on internal windows. Another\napartment I visited; but here the proprietor, who lived on the\nrez-de-chaussee, or ground floor, had, as well as myself, a family of\nyoung children: besides, he refused me the privilege of walking in his\ngarden. From this refusal, and from the intercourse of the children, I\nanticipated future misunderstandings. The use of a garden in this\nclimate is, that, in the shade, or after sunset, it serves as an\nadditional room, loftier than any in the house. In winter, a town\ngarden, surrounded by high walls, or houses, is absolutely useless.\n\nAt length I took the house of M. le Maire. It consisted of a vestibule,\na small dining-room, servants hall, kitchen, and offices: on the first\nfloor was a salon, twenty-four feet square; on one side of this salon\nwas a space partitioned off, about six feet wide: at half the height of\nthis room, a floor had been laid, and thus two cabinets were procured:\nthere was a second salon twenty-one feet by fifteen; there were three\nchambers with two cabinets, three servants rooms, and on the second\nfloor two chambers for my sons. I had besides a small stable, and\ncoach-house for a cabriolet, but no garden. The house was built on three\nsides of a small court. My lease was for four years, at a thousand\nfrancs a year, determinable by me at the end of each year on two months\nnotice, determinable also on payment of a quarter's rent in case of war,\nor any event of a public nature that might affect my personal security.\nThis last clause I copied from a lease I had seen at Paris; a prudent,\nand, at that time, no one could say, a superfluous caution. I paid no\ntaxes.\n\nThis house I furnished, as one furnishes a house which he is to quit in\nthree or four years. It was curious to observe how, from want of money\nor of confidence, some of the tradesmen followed their goods to my\nhouse, and required payment on delivery. I had even a sort of _run_ upon\nme one morning, performed by some one who had not taken the\nabove-mentioned precaution. The run was probably caused by some silly\nreport. I have known a run on a country bank to originate with a\nfarmer's declaration that such run existed; the question then being only\nwho should run fastest. I dissipated the alarm by giving, with great\ntranquillity, _bons_ on my banker: yet some tradesmen were careful to\ngive a receipt, not for the amount of the bill, but for the _bon_: this,\nindeed, I suggested.\n\nSeven years later, I have found the merchants of a provincial town, in\nwhich I am utterly unknown, ready to give me credit for my orders\nwithout the least symptom of suspicion or anxiety. In seven years I\nbelieve the wealth of France to have increased by one half; in seven\nyears, the funds have risen from sixty-five to ninety-five: money might\nhave been invested in land, seven years ago, at four and a half per\ncent; now, not more than three, or three and a half, can be obtained:\nbut I am going beyond the limits of my four years residence.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[35] My wife has a great deal of sensibility.\n\n[36] No, Miss, my dog will not bite you; if he were a tiger, he would\nlick such a beautiful hand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IX.\n\n\nAvignon is surrounded by walls, as are most of the cities of France, and\nof the countries of the continent: a very great evil and inconvenience.\nThese walls hinder the influx of fresh air from the country, and thus\nmake the cities more unhealthy; give to those who want to enter or go\nout of the town the trouble of going first to a gate; and crowd and\nembarrass the inlets and outlets, by diminishing their number. Indeed,\nafter sunset, this number, in order to save porters, is reduced to two;\nthe two principal gates only, at opposite sides of the town, being\nattended by their guardians to watch and ward during the night. Often\nhave I been obliged, at Avignon and at Florence, to shorten my evening\nwalk, for the sake of arriving at the nearest gate before the Ave Maria\nof the evening. If I still continued without the walls, I was obliged to\nperform a circuit, first along a dusty road to a distant gate; and then,\naccompanied, it may be, by the females of my family, through the main\nstreet to my own habitation, more distant from this gate than from that\nby which I had gone out.\n\nAll this mischief, all this restraint, is endured, because, instead of a\ntax on the houses in which food is consumed, a duty is levied, at the\ngates, on the food itself; a duty, partial, because not paid by the\ninhabitants of the country; vexatious, because descending to so many and\nso minute objects; and expensive in its collection, because requiring\nperpetual superintendence. It is to be hoped the Chamber of Deputies of\nFrance will take some lessons, on the art of taxing, from the House of\nCommons, by whom that art has been so long and so successfully\npractised. Part of these tolls defray municipal expenses.\n\nThe walls of Avignon are about three miles in circumference. A good\nroad, bordered by trees, goes round the town; and, on the western side,\nis a public walk near the Rhone. The river is here divided into two\nbranches by a long, narrow island: over each branch is carried a bridge\non wooden piers, with a causeway across the island, uniting the two\nbridges into one road from bank to bank. The tolls, on this bridge, are\nlet, by the city, at about fifty thousand francs a year; a large sum,\nand indicating an active intercourse in the direction of Bordeaux and\nToulouse. There is a barrier at each end of the bridge, and the\npassengers pay on setting foot upon it, but go off from it scot-free.\nWhy there are two receivers of one toll I know not, except that one may\nbe a check on the other; but, as every \"receiver is as bad as a thief,\"\nthis expedient amounts only to \"setting a thief to watch a thief.\"\n\nThat in the twelfth century,--an age of Cimmerian darkness, according to\nthe Protestants,--a poor shepherd should have conceived the project of\nbuilding a bridge over the Rhone; that he should have been prompted to\nthis undertaking by motives of Christian charity, on observing how many\nwere drowned in attempting the passage by boats; that he should have\ndevoted his life to the collection of alms for his purpose;--all this\nmight procure for St. Benezet more favour than he will ever meet with in\nour _dis_-enlightened country. I leave it to my reader to judge of my\nreasons for not saying _un_-enlightened. The mischief is, they made the\npoor man a saint, instead of knighting him, like Sir Richard Arkwright.\nA punster might have entitled him Pontifex Maximus; but this would have\nbeen still worse for his reputation.\n\nThe Reverend Alban Butler, in his learned, discreet, and pious work,\n\"The Lives of the Saints,\" relates, that the building of this bridge\nwas attended by many miracles. Part of these may have been contrived to\nencourage those to the enterprise who would not have been moved by the\nsingle consideration of its utility; as the liberation of the Holy\nSepulchre, and \"Deus vult,\" roused those who would never have made a\ncommon effort to defend Christendom against the Saracen. In part also,\nthese miracles may have been real, notwithstanding the bold assertion\nthat miracles have ceased. This assertion may be easily made, while\nevery fact proving the contrary is rejected with supercilious\nincredulity; but it is an assertion in its own nature incapable of\nproof: the denial of the possibility of miracles would be inconsequent\nin the mouths of those who, by affirming them to have ceased, admit them\nto have existed. These men are not Deo a secretis.\n\nButler tells us also that, on occasion of part of the bridge falling\ndown by the impetuosity of the waters, in 1669, nearly five hundred\nyears after the death of St. Benezet, his body, which had been buried in\na little chapel on the bridge, was taken up, and found entire, without\nthe least sign of corruption: even the bowels were sound, and the colour\nof the eyes lively and sprightly, though the bars of iron around the\ncoffin were much corroded by rust, on account of the dampness of the\nsituation. Butler did not know that animal muscle is changed by moisture\ninto a substance resembling spermaceti, as proved by the experiments of\nLavoisier, and Sir George Gibbes. The substance is called by the French\nchymists _adipocire_. The philosopher will, I hope, allow his obligation\nto me for having attempted to account for one miracle in a natural\nmanner. Let him say, \"The man is reasonable, _quand meme_.\"[37]\n\nThe remains of the bridge of St. Benezet still bestride the eastern\nbranch of the Rhone, and are an object of great picturesque beauty. The\narches are very lofty: under the first of them, the great public road is\nnow carried; a circumstance which seems to show that the river has\nformed for itself a narrower, it may be, a deeper bed. Inundations\nhowever are not unfrequent, particularly in the beginning of summer, on\nthe melting of the snows of the Alps; and I am told at this time,\nDecember 1825, that there has lately been five feet depth of water in\nthe town of Avignon. I have seen the water wash the walls of the city.\n\nThe Rock, as it is called, of Avignon, has every appearance of having\nbeen separated by the Rhone from the hills on the other side of the\nriver. How or when this separation was effected, is a question that\nmight puzzle a writer of theories on the formation of the earth. If we\ncan believe, what philosophers would readily enough believe were not the\nfact asserted in the Bible,--that the earth was at one time covered with\nwater, even the tops of the mountains,--and if we can suppose also that\ncurrents existed in this deluge;--then, on the subsiding of the waters,\nthese currents might meet with the summits and ridges of hills, and work\nand wear for themselves a passage, the waters of the deluge gradually\nretiring, but, in the mean time, sustaining the currents at the\nrequisite height. But humility in Scriptural interpretation is\nrecommended by the remark, that the very first word of Scripture, \"In\nthe beginning,\" is incomprehensible and inexplicable.\n\nOn the southern slope of this rock is built the Palace of the Popes; as\nits roof is continued in one horizontal line, the height of the building\nat the southern extremity is enormous: its principal front is towards\nthe west, overlooking a part of the city and the hills of Languedoc: it\nis now in a ruined and neglected state, as far as a building can be so\nwhich is still in use: part of it serves for a prison: another part is\na caserne, of which the pope's chapel is the dormitory. Close upon the\nnorthern end of the palace is the cathedral; a church which, at the\nbeginning of the revolution, was plundered of an immense quantity of\nsilver and some gold plate, which was sent off to the national crucible\nat Paris; amongst other treasures was a silver bell of no very\ndiminutive size. The tombs even were ransacked; a skull was brought to\nmy house by my children's drawing-master, from which my younger son\ndesigned an admirable and edifying death's head. The model, I was\nassured, had been the cranium of a pope. They were beginning to repair\nthis church, with the purpose of restoring it to its former destination.\nOn one side of it is a little chapel with a dome, which served as the\nmodel for the dome of Ste. Genevieve. The copy is sufficiently exact.\n\nBehind the palace, on the east, rises a tower, which, from having been\nused as an ice-house, was called the _glaciere_; and the glaciere of\nAvignon is a name ever memorable in the annals of horror. From the top\nof this tower five hundred, according to those who exaggerate; thirty,\naccording to those who extenuate,--of the principal inhabitants of the\ncity, after receiving a stunning blow on the head, were thrown down on\nthe ice within, and their bodies immediately covered with quick lime.\n\nSuch was the vengeance of the people on those who, without trial, from\nthe notoriety of the fact, were convicted of the crime of aristocracy.\nThe Revolution had been quietly accomplished: the people declared that\nit was their will to unite themselves to France; sent a deputation to\nthe national assembly; and cried \"Vive le Roi.\" The vice-legate, who\ngoverned the city for the pope, addressed the people from his balcony;\ntold them he had no force to oppose this their movement, that they had\nhis prayers for their happiness, and that he would retire. This was all\non his part. The national assembly accorded to the Avignonais their\nwish; and formed of this papal territory and that of Orange, (formerly a\npatrimony of the princes of that house,) the department of Vaucluse.\n\nThe summit of the rock commands a very beautiful view. The eye traverses\na fertile plain, bounded by the hills of the Venaissin, among which are\ndistinguished those of the vallis clausa, where the far-famed fountain\nhas its source: between the trees are caught glimpses of the Durance,\nwhich throws itself into the Rhone two miles below; almost under your\nfeet, are seen the windings of the Rhone with its islands: on the\nopposite bank rises the chateau and little town of Villeneuve,\nsurmounted by hills covered with the vine and the olive: immediately\nbeneath, to the south, and west, lies Avignon, with its population of\nfive and twenty thousand souls, which number still remained to it after\nmassacres, confiscations, and proscriptions. By these revolutionary\nmeasures, it had suffered more perhaps than any other city in France\nexcept Lyons, the \"ville affranchie\" of the Convention. \"How would you\nhave us be gay?\" said a noble to me: \"we see every day, we live in the\nmidst of the assassins of our relations, and the possessors of our\nproperty.\" Virgil describes his Jove as viewing, from Olympus' height,\nthe earth, \"hominumque labores:\" the rock of Avignon is but one of many\nelevated spots from which we look down on the bounty of Providence and\non the misery of man.\n\nThe city contains a great many handsome hotels or family houses, but is\nnot generally well-built; the streets, all but one,--the Rue\nCalade,--are narrow: the pavement is of small sharp-pointed pebbles.\nHere is a public library, formed out of the libraries of the suppressed\nconvents; a Museum, in which, among other objects, a valuable\ncollection of coins deserves particular mention, as containing some very\nrare specimens of the coins of the Greek cities anciently founded in\nthis part of France. There is also annexed to the Museum a small\nbotanical garden. Here is a good infirmary or hospital for the sick. A\nlarge convent has been turned into a _succursal_ or subsidiary house to\nthe invalids at Paris, insufficient to receive the increased number of\ndisabled soldiers. The seven parishes of Avignon have been\nrevolutionized into four, with churches not large enough for the\ncongregations. I entered a fine Pantheon-like building, and found it to\nbe a church, with vast Ionic columns supporting large galleries; the\nwhole capable of containing two thousand people: it was used as a\nmanufactory of saltpetre. The Jesuits' college is become a _college\nroyal_: thus it retains its destination as a place of instruction; but\nits handsome church has been spoiled by laying a floor across it at\nmid-height: for this there was no reason, but that an administrator\nthought, as my informant said, that it was a clever thing to cheat the\nAlmighty of a church, _escamoter une eglise au bon Dieu_.\n\nThe walls of the town are particularly well-built and handsome, if\nwalls can ever be handsome: they are of the same sort of stone as the\npalace, and it is said that each contains precisely the same quantity of\nstone. They both date from the fourteenth century, when the popes sat,\nas the phrase is, at Avignon.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[37] Notwithstanding.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\n\nThirty English families, it was calculated, were settled, before the\nRevolution, in Avignon and its territory. The grandson of James II. had\nlived here for some time. I used to enter, with some little feeling of\nJacobitical enthusiasm, the house of the Marquise D. which he had\ninhabited. The Pretender was accompanied by some who \"thought his\npretensions well-founded:\" others were attracted by the sort of court,\nheld here by the vice legate, and by the attentions which it was then\nthe usage of the court of Rome to pay to foreigners, particularly to the\nEnglish. It was convenient also that a war between England and France\ndid not affect a subject of the former country at Avignon. The\nintercourse betwixt this city and Italy had caused more attention to be\npaid to literature and the fine arts than is usual in provincial towns:\nthat these flourished here, the names of Vernet, Flechier, Poole, and\nothers bear honourable testimony.\n\nAvignon was now become French, and as such, on a par with other French\ntowns. I chose it as a place in which to live for a few years, and\nsuperintend the education of my children: it was in my way to Italy, my\nulterior object. I determined on the south of France on account of the\nhealth of Mrs. ----, who, though subject to violent coughs, which had\nmore than once threatened her life, has not suffered from them since we\nhave been to the southward of Lyons.\n\nBut the wounds inflicted by the Revolution, and during the reign of\nterror, were hardly stanched; the recollection of the evils they had\nendured was still recent,--still afflicted the spirits of those who\nformed the first class of society at Avignon. I have already mentioned\nthe feeling with which one of them expressed himself on this subject.\nThe most fortunate amongst them,--at least he told me he so considered\nhimself,--was the Marquis ----, who, after being obliged to fly and\nabsent himself for fifteen years, recovered his estate with the loss\nonly of the rents during those years. Almost every lady, at that time\nold enough to have been an object of persecution, had been put in\nprison, and there, with her companions, had discussed the question\nwhether the guillotine was an easy mode of death. One of them said to\nme, \"You see us _tristes_; but sometimes we forget ourselves, and then\n_le caractere national perce_.\"[38]\n\nIn 1795, almost every large house in Avignon bore on its walls a\nnotice,--\"Propriete nationale a vendre;\"[39] and even houses not\nconfiscated, as well as other property, were sold to relieve the\nimmediate distress of their owners. A house, which I considered as the\nbest in the town, which had been but lately built at an expense of two\nhundred thousand francs, was sold for thirty thousand to the father of\nmy banker: its noble proprietor gave as a reason for acceding to so\ndisproportionate a bargain, that his wife and daughter had nothing to\neat.\n\nGreat wealth was a crime as well as royalism or nobility. Two persons,\nin authority at Avignon during the reign of terror, were making out a\nlist of emigrants: a third was present, who, having nothing else to do,\nwas holding the candle to the two municipal revolutionists. \"Shall we\nset _him_ down in the list?\" whispered one of them to the other, meaning\nthe third, the candle-holder.--\"Ce seroit un peu trop fort, puisqu'il\nest present.\"[40]--\"Qu' importe? il n'osera pas reclamer, et il est\nriche.\"[41] Danton, who by the by, was minister of _justice_, said \"La\nrevolution est une mine qu'il faut exploiter.\"[42]\n\nA revolutionary tribunal held its permanent sitting at Orange, and every\nday carts full of victims were sent off thither from Avignon. My friend\nthe Marquise ---- was then a child of six years old; a plan was laid to\ntake her in the cart and throw her into the Rhone by the way: she could\nnot be convicted of _incivisme_, but she was an heiress. The plot was\ndefeated by her _bonne_ or nurse-maid, who took care that the child\nshould be out of the way at the time of the departure of the cart.\n\nThe trials at Orange were the pleasantest scenes imaginable. \"Tu n'es\npas royaliste? Tu n' as pas conspire contre l'etat?\"[43] or some such\nquestions, in an ironical tone, decided the fate of the prisoner. \"Voila\ndes hommes qui tranchent sur tout,\"[44] said I to my narrator. He\nforgave the pun.\n\nAn elderly woman,--her understanding childish through age, and who was\ndeaf withal,--was put in accusation with her son. \"Tu as pleure la mort\ndu roi,\"[45] said the judges to the mother, charging her also with\nhaving put on mourning on the occasion. \"O yes,\" said the old woman, \"I\nwas very sorry for the king, poor, dear, good man; and I put on a black\nsilk apron and a black ribbon round my cap.\" The judges, seeing the\npeople inclined by this simplicity to a sentiment of compassion,\nadvanced to something more serious. \"Tu as conspire contre l'etat.\"[46]\nHere the son put himself forward: \"Messieurs, do what you will with me;\nbut my mother--you see her imbecillity; she is deaf: how can she have\nconspired against the state?\" \"Elle est sourde?\" said the judge: \"ecris,\ngreffier, qu'elle a conspire sourdement contre l'etat.\"[47] This pun is\nnot to be forgiven. Arrived at the place of execution, the mother,\nseeing the assembled crowd, asked her son the meaning of it; whether it\nwas a fair, or some _fete_. He obtained as a favour from the\nexecutioner, that his mother might be the first to suffer death.\n\nA noble had a conversation with a man who, though known as one of the\nchief assassins of that aera, lived quietly at Avignon. \"I should imagine\nthat, since you have failed of your purpose, you must feel some regret\nat having uselessly shed so much blood.\"--\"Au contraire, our regret is\nthat we did not shed more: mais ce sera pour une autre fois.\"[48]\n\nIn expectation of this _autre fois_, some of the few nobles to whom any\nwealth was left were making up a purse in readiness for a second\nemigration:--let it be remembered this was in the year 1818. Others of\nthem lived economically, indifferent as to the consideration in which\nthey might be held after so many mortifications; or disgusted with the\nlaw of equal partition of inheritance, which reduced all their children\nto mediocrity of wealth,--an evil they wished to remedy by their\nsavings. I recollect, in passing, that I was well acquainted with a\nnoble, an aristocrat, who detested every act of the constituent\nassembly, but thought this law of _partage_ perfectly just and\nreasonable: he was a younger brother.\n\nFrom all that has preceded, it will be inferred that the public mind at\nAvignon was not in a state to abandon itself unreservedly to the\npleasures of society. Yet fetes were occasionally given; balls, with,\nnow and then, a petit souper, were not uncommon during carnival; and\nevery evening might be passed in company, in the salon of some lady who\nhad taken her day of the week for receiving. At these parties cards were\nsupplied, but paid for by those who used them, at a price which, though\nmoderate, covered the expense both of cards and wax candles. This\npractice, pretty well established in England, was defended by the\nexample of the court, where it is permitted. We could not do better than\nfollow the practice of the court. Ordinarily no refreshments were given:\none conscientious lady, however, told her friends that her surplus\ncard-money enabled her to treat them with ices and petits gateaux. No\ninvitation was sent after the first notice, which was considered as good\nso long as the weekly reception should continue.\n\nBesides these reunions, to which all the acquaintance of the mistress of\nthe house were of course admitted, there were sometimes parties by\ninvitation, when the refreshments were sufficient and decorous. I\nendeavoured to set the fashion of tea, and gave a _the_, as much in\nconformity, as to the mode of it, with the notions of the country, as\nmy imagination could make it out. A large table, covered with a cloth as\nat dinner time, bore upon it not only the tea equipage, with its usual\naccompaniments of tartines and toast, but also fruits, and cakes, and an\nimmense round flat tart, showing preserve through a gridiron of pastry,\nwith wine and syrups for those whom tea would deprive of sleep. The\nMarquise ---- followed my example, and gave a _the_, of which she\ncondescended to ask my opinion: I told her, that in order that the tea\nshould be good, it was indispensable that the water should be not only\nhot, but boiling; excusing at the same time the boldness of my counsel,\non the ground that it was not obtruded, but demanded. She tried again,\nand succeeded to admiration. Tea is now in pretty general use at evening\nparties in the north of France.\n\nWhile my elder children even were yet too young to bear their part in\nsoirees, I contented myself with entertaining, now and then, a few\nMessieurs at dinner, after consulting a friend on the enterprise, with a\ndeclaration that I could not invite ladies, as their taste would require\nmore research and delicacy of preparation than I could hope to arrive\nat. He admitted the difficulty would be lessened by this restriction\nhowever ungallant, and proceeded to tell me, that a dinner invariably\nbegins by soup and bouilli: as this latter however must be insipid if\nthe the soup is good, it is well to accompany it by a sausage, or some\nhigh-tasted meat: then come the entremets, then the roti with its salad:\nafter which, said he, \"tout naturellement on fait monter le\npoisson.\"[49] Nothing could appear to me more unnatural than fish after\nmeat; but I was in such a complaisant disposition, that I agreed to\nevery thing. The douceurs terminate the repast, succeeded by the\ndessert.\n\nSo many English travel in France, and so many write their travels, that\nthese matters are well known: the repetition may be endured as a part of\na family history; I speak of them with a due sense of their importance:\n\n ----------qualia vincant\n Pythagoram, Anytique reum, doctumque Platona.\n\nHaving discovered what might be considered as a good French dinner, en\nprovince, I set to work, not neglecting the improvements suggested by an\nEnglish education, by no means so useless, on this head, as the French\nimagine.\n\nIt will be seen, that the arbitrary parts of a French dinner are the\nmade dishes and the sweets: the bouilli and roti are obligatory; the\nformer because you are hungry, the latter, lest you should still be so.\nI approve of the order in which the fish appears, having seen many\npersons choke themselves in England by eating of it with an appetite as\nyet unsatiated. Even to the fried fish I ventured, contrary to usage, to\nadd a sauce, (in a sauce-boat be it well understood,) which those who\npartook of it admitted to be an improvement. A stuffed turkey, with\nsausage balls, was allowed to be better than a dry roti: a hare, with a\npudding and currant jelly, was declared to be delicious. I obtained\npermission to serve the cheese, as a thing of mauvaise odeur, by itself,\nrecalling only the salad, instead of making it a part of the dessert. By\nthese means, and by the help of stuffed loins of mutton, roasted\ntongues, or boiled, with but little flavour of salt, new college\npuddings, and other unknown luxuries too tedious to mention, (a phrase I\nought to have employed long ago,) I have the patriotic consolation of\nthinking that I gave a favourable idea of the English kitchen, which, in\ndefiance of popular opinion, I affirm to be better than the French,\nthough their artists in this line are superior. The chief differences\nare, that the French make prepared and high-seasoned dishes of their\nvegetables, and think it barbarous to eat them, au naturel, along with\ntheir meat; and that they will not believe that their meat contains any\njuice, or gravy, or flavour, till they have extracted it by culinary\nprocess, and laid it beside the meat in the dish. Indeed their climate,\nwhich provides for them so many excellent things, refuses them pasture\nto fatten beef; but they have fine artificial grasses and hay: of every\nother object of gourmandise, except fat beef, they have all that the\nmost voracious, or the most delicate appetite can demand.\n\nAn invitation to dinner is always taken au pied de la lettre; it never\ntrenches on the evening parties;--all retire immediately after coffee.\n\nNothing can be more easy than the entrance into society in a provincial\ntown in France: you have only to send billets of invitation, taking care\nfirst to make a general visit to all whom you invite; which visit is\nreturned by those who mean to accept that or any future invitation. In\nthe second winter of my residence, we took an evening for weekly\nreception, beginning by an invitation to a ball. Dancing was, for this\ntime, prevented by the arrival of the news of the death of King George\nIII. On occasion of another ball, I observed that those who, from\nwhatever reason, had been prevented from assisting at the ball, took\nparticular care to present themselves at the following weekly soiree,\nwhen, as on other soirees, no refreshments were given, as we thought it\nright to conform to the usage of the place. Indeed this mode of visiting\nhas its advantages: the visited is thus the obliged party; insomuch that\nthose, who themselves do not receive, make no scruple of repeating their\nvisits. Those who do thus receive, expect of course to be visited in\ntheir turn.\n\nIt is perhaps in consequence of this mode of receiving, that the custom\nis established, that the newly-arrived shall make the first _call_.\nHowever agreeable it might be to a stranger to be invited to cards and\nconversation only, the inhabitants of a town cannot know that it would\nbe agreeable, till they are, by implication, told so. One exception to\nthe rule confirms my opinion of its origin. The Duc--, who, in my first\nwinter, gave a ball every week, called on me to invite my family. The\nrule was, nevertheless, so far observed, that the Duchesse did not call\ntill after we had accepted the invitation. The practice, from whatever\nit may arise, is very embarrassing to the mauvaise honte of an\nEnglishman: this may easily be surmounted, when it is perceived that\nthe first visit is always considered as a polite attention.\n\nBut the only serious _social_ embarrassment I experienced, arose from my\nimperfect use of the language: I had learned French when a boy; when I\nleft England I had long read it, almost as easily as English; arrived in\nFrance, I found I had two studies to perform, two difficulties to\nencounter; to make myself understood, and to understand: the first I\ncould do indifferently well; but I passed a twelvemonth in France before\nI could understand what was said by the men, and two years before I\ncould understand what was said by the ladies. I found that not to\nunderstand was more disadvantageous than not to be understood; since\nthose who endured my bad French with patience were, very naturally,\ndispleased on discovering that they had been throwing away their words\non one who could not fully comprehend their meaning. I seriously advise\nevery Englishman who purposes to establish his family for some years in\nFrance, if he is not competent to follow a conversation in the language\nof that country, to go thither first himself alone, and establish\nhimself for a few months in French society: he will thus make more\nprogress in a month, than afterwards, with his family, in a year: for\nthe frequent use of an old language indisposes the organs of speech to\nthe acquisition of a new one. The ears too require their lesson.\n\nI will also repeat the counsel given to me by a friend, a _detenu_,\nwhose son, at the age of seventeen, spoke English like a foreigner; it\nwas, constantly to talk English in the family. Notwithstanding my exact\ncompliance with this advice, my youngest child, from having learned\nthree languages before entering her tenth year, speaks English less\nperfectly than the others: she left England when but three years old,\nand, a year after, said, somewhat boastingly, \"J'ai oublie mon Anglois.\"\nIn truth, seven or eight years absence has produced in all the family\nsome little forgetfulness of our native tongue; nay, I fear that my\nreader may find some Gallicisms in the writing of one, who did not quit\nhis native land till far advanced in the fiftieth year of his age.\n\nNo parent will be content that his children should forget their native\nlanguage: whether it may be necessary, in order to avoid this\ninconvenience, to enjoin the use of it within the family, will depend on\ncircumstances, on the age of the children, on the length of the intended\nstay or residence abroad. The means will, so far forth, hinder and\ndelay the attainment of the language of the country, without which both\nimprovement and amusement are utterly hopeless, as social intercourse is\nimpossible. The French are not the less impatient of bad French, on\naccount of the imperturbable politeness with which they hear it.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[38] The national character pierces through.\n\n[39] National property to be sold.\n\n[40] That would be a little too bad since he is here present.\n\n[41] What does it signify? he will not dare to appeal, and he is rich.\n\n[42] The revolution is a mine that must be worked.\n\n[43] Thou art not a royalist? Thou hast not conspired against the state?\n\n[44] See the men who cut through every thing.\n\n[45] Thou hast wept for the death of the king.\n\n[46] Thou hast conspired against the state.\n\n[47] She is deaf?--write, clerk, that she has conspired in a secret way\nagainst the state.\n\n[48] But that will be for another time.\n\n[49] The fish is served quite naturally.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XI.\n\n\nI found a very good drawing-master at Avignon, an eleve of David, one\nwho had studied in Italy, an intelligent man; his conversation pleased\nand instructed me. I had much difficulty to meet with a master of the\nFrench language: no one here wanted to learn French; they were contented\nwith such as they talked: there was no demand for institutors in this\nbranch of education. At last I found a professor of the royal college,\nan ingenious man, but utterly unpractised in the art of teaching French,\nwhich he might suppose \"came by nature;\" and being besides unacquainted\nwith English, he was unable to explain to his scholars of my family, any\nrules of grammar, whether general or particular. That I may dismiss him\nwith honour in this my mention of him, I will recite an epigram of his\ncomposition at the beginning of the Revolution:\n\n O liberte cherie! en vain je te poursuis:\n Par tout je vois ton arbre, et nulle part tes fruits.[50]\n\nOf dancing-masters and music-masters I need not speak; their art is at\nthe end of their fingers or of their toes. I had some trouble in\nmanaging the temper of the professor of the first of these arts, who was\na Gascon; and the natural pride of the professor of music, who was a\nnoble: but, by the help of some tact united with good-will, I obtained\nmy end, which was, that they should depart contented. The climate did\nnot permit dancing lessons to be taken, except in the winter.\n\nI do not advise any one, habituated to the climate of England, and in\ngood health, to come abroad for the sake of climate. Charles II. was\ncertainly right when he said, one may in England be out of doors more\ndays in the year, and more hours in the day, than in any other country.\nI quoted this saying to a friend, who replied, \"Mais c'est toujours en\nsouffrant;\"[51] and, being accustomed to heat, he reckoned all suffering\nfrom that cause as nothing: he had been in England, and recollected how\nhis nose was bitten, and his fingers benumbed by the frost. A friend at\nAvignon called on me in the middle of the day, having crept along the\nshady side of the streets. It is there the custom in summer to keep the\nwindows shut during the heat of the day. I complained to my visitant\nof this practice, as depriving one of air when gasping for it. \"Mais\nque voulez-vous? l'air est en feu.\"[52] I put the thermometer out at\na north window, and it rose two degrees. During the greatest heat of\nthe hot summer of 1820, I observed the thermometer pretty regularly\nat midnight, and found it to stand at 80 Fahrenheit.\n\nOne may rise early, and enjoy the coolness of the morning: true; but for\nthis end it is necessary to go to bed early, and be deprived of the\ncoolness of the evening. I knew, however, one man who had the good-sense\nand resolution to dispose of his day during summer in the following\nmanner: he went to bed at midnight, rose at four in the morning, took\nhis exercise, transacted his affairs, eat his dejeune a la fourchette,\nas may be supposed, with a good appetite, and went to bed again at\nmid-day: at four p. m. he rose again, made his toilette, eat his dinner,\nand went into society, till the end of the second of the two days which\nhe thus contrived to form out of twenty-four hours. I have been told\nthat such is the practice of the English in the East Indies.\n\nThe plague of bugs may be avoided by care and cleanliness: the defence\nagainst gnats is a gause net surrounding the bed; but wo be to those who\nfind one or more gnats enclosed within the net itself, as happens not\nunfrequently from the carelessness of the femme de chambre: the hum of\nthe insect, and the dread of his attack, deprive you of sleep: there is\nno remedy but to wait till he settles upon the face; and then, while he\nis busy with his first bite, with an expectant and prepared hand to\ncrush him. Flies are also very troublesome in these envied regions of\nthe south; but flies are not like those Cassiuses, the gnats;--\"they\nsleep o'nights.\"\n\nThe _bise_ or north wind, coming from the frozen Alps, following the\ncourse of the Rhone, and spreading wide to right and left, is very\ndelightful and refreshing during the summer at Avignon: but, in the\nwinter, it penetrates even to the marrow of the bones, and sometimes,\nfor several days together, blows with such violence, that people are\nafraid to walk the streets, lest they should be knocked on the head by\nfalling tiles or chimneys. This _bise_ is supposed to render the climate\nhealthy: the Avignonais have a proverb:--\"Avenio ventosa; si ventosa,\nfastidiosa; si non ventosa, venenosa.\" How far it is \"venenosa,\" I have\nbut too much reason to know.\n\nThe Rhone is sometimes frozen over at Avignon: I have seen people walk\nacross it on the ice. The cold during part of the winter is sometimes\ngreater than that of Paris; and I have seen the cold of the _hyver\nmoyen_[53] of Paris marked, on a French thermometer, as two degrees of\nReaumur lower, that is stronger, than the cold of the _hyver moyen_ of\nLondon. All the world knows that in summer it is much hotter at Paris\nthan at London: the vine bears witness to it; but both heat and cold are\ntempered to England by passing over the sea.\n\nTo sum up all that I have to say at present on the subject of climate, I\nbelieve lat. 45, half way between the pole and the equator, to be, all\nother circumstances being equal, the best of the climes that are\n\"mortalibus aegris Munere concessae Divom.\" Habit reconciles both to cold\nand heat. One consideration may not be unimportant to families that wish\nto economize: cold is costly. Returning into France from Italy, I find\nthe difference between the rent of a house in Naples and that of a house\nin a country town, to be filled up by the expense of firing; and, at the\nbeginning of my first winter, am almost ruined in manteaus, great coats,\npelisses, blankets, and other flannels.\n\nA country town in France is better supplied with society than a country\ntown in England, inasmuch as the French country gentry do not disdain to\nlive in a country town. All of them have an hotel, an apartment, or at\nleast a _pied a terre_, as they called it, in the largest country town\nin their neighbourhood, and resort thither during the winter. From the\ntime of the wheat harvest, which in the south is towards the end of\nJune, till the time for planting is ended, they not only live, but are\nvery busy in the country. The practice of letting land for the half of\nthe produce compels them to be on the spot to take charge of their own\nshare: but, in bad weather, and during the long evenings, they seek\nshelter in the town. Here the members of the ancient noblesse, now\nwithout fortune, without privilege, still viewed by the many with\nsentiments of political dislike,--maintain their superiority over men,\ntheir equals in moral honesty, more wealthy and better instructed than\nthemselves. And how do they maintain it? By manners. It is admirable to\nsee with what grace and ease, without arrogating any thing to themselves\nor derogating from others, without art or design,--they assert their\ndignity, and contrive that it be recognised by those with whom they\nhave to do. Some of those who have not the advantage, if such it may be\ncalled, of noble birth, endeavour to imitate, while others affect to\ndespise, these manners, which throw such a charm over society; but it is\nimpossible to despise, and very difficult to imitate them: they seem to\nresult from an early, an almost perpetual consciousness of\nself-importance, corrected by a constant intercourse with others\nentitled to equal respect and deference. The manners of military men,\nmore frank, and open, and manly than those of the noblesse, want the\npolish attained by the latter: for military men, while they derive\nconfidence from the glory of their profession, are chiefly conversant\nwith those whom they command or obey. \"The depot of good manners is to\nbe found with the nobles of ancient families,\" said one of them to me.\n\nBefore the revolution there were in France twenty-seven thousand\nfamilies of the noblesse. By the charte the nobles of imperial creation\npreserve their titles, the ancient nobles resume theirs. Of titles,\nhowever, very little use is made in conversation; the little particle\n_de_ answers all demands of noble self-love; and even a Duc or Duchesse\nis contented to be addressed, in familiar parlance, as Monsieur de ----\nor Madame de ----. This little particle _de_ multiplies itself with\nastonishing rapidity, like the English addition Esq.; and the act by\nwhich it is assumed is no more contested in France, than that which,\nwith us, niches a man of merit between knight and gentleman. Three or\nfour _de_ were brought into the world at Avignon, during my stay there.\n\nWhat shows the practice of unauthorised assumption of the _de_ to be by\nno means so novel as its censurers pretended, is, that I found the _de_\nsometimes to precede names which signified trades: of these there are\nmany in all countries; whereas the _de_ ought only to indicate the\n_terre_, or estate, like the d'Igby of my maternal ancestors, and can\nwith propriety be used for no other purpose.\n\nBut the ambition of nominal distinction was not always thus cheaply to\nbe gratified, if I may believe the feeling lament of an old noble, that\nis a noble of old family, \"Such an one fancies, some fine morning, that\nhe is a count or marquis: he calls himself so: the world laughs.\"--\"But\nthe title passes current?\" A shrug of the shoulders gave me to\nunderstand that the subject was too distressing to be further pursued. O\nchivalry, thou act fallen on grievous,--on money-loving times!\n\nThe title of Baronet is insignificant, having its origin too in a paltry\nsum of money paid to a needy king. The list (for it is not an order,)\ncontains names that do honour to it: yet I heard in my youth a young man\nof one of the first families in Ireland, afterwards Marquess of ----,\ntalk peevishly of \"a parcel of d----d baronets.\" In endeavouring to be\nsuperior to their equals, or equal to their superiors, they undertake a\ntask which must make them unacceptable to both parties. The ancient\nnoblesse of France has neither feudal rights nor political power; but it\nhas its origin in what may be called the heroic ages of Europe: the\npeerage of France must look up to the nobles with respect; and the\npeople, that it may honour them, asks only to rank them among its\nfriends.\n\nIt is a pity that the nobles should be generally reproached with want of\ninstruction: many of them plead in excuse that they are _enfans de la\nrevolution_, born at a time when their education was of necessity\nneglected. I mentioned this excuse to an avocat. \"Bah! they well know\nthat their fathers were as ignorant as themselves.\" The avocat's\nargument was not conclusive; the nobles of the present day might, but\nfor the unsettled time of their youth, have partaken of the gradual\nimprovement in knowledge which pervades all classes; and the remark,\n\"je suis meilleur gentilhomme que mon pere, parceque j'ai une generation\nde plus,\"[54] might have applied to other advantages than that of\ncounting one generation more. The French nobles have now no longer that\nwhich, according to Juvenal, makes ignorance tolerable: let us hope they\nwill avail themselves of their diminished wealth to acquire that\nlearning, which, according to the proverb, though I do not believe it,\nis better than house and land.\n\nThe practice of letting farms to a _metayer_, who retains a share of the\nproduce, and pays his rent with the remainder, is resorted to and\ncontinued from necessity. The farmer has not capital enough to stock a\nfarm. If the proprietor, after having made the necessary advances for\nthe occupation of the land, were to let the whole for a money rent, the\nfarmer would soon be in arrears, and would end by running away.\n_Metairie_ I suppose to be derived from the Italian _meta_, which\nsignifies _half_. The landlord's share is however not always in this\nproportion: on fertile soils, and on account of rich products, he\nreceives more than where more labour is required to reap an equal\nor less benefit. I believe the half to be the minimum.\n\nAfter having passed through nearly the whole length of Europe, with a\ntaste prepared by a youth passed, as Gibbon says, \"in port and\nprejudice;\" and in the same college too, I venture to assert, that wine\nis good in proportion as the country in which it is produced is near the\nall-enlivening sun. The wine of Champagne, which cannot remain for a\nminute and a half in the glass without growing flat; that of Burgundy,\nwhich is hardly ever found but in an acid state; that of Bordeaux,\n\"claret for boys;\"--not any one of these wines is to be compared (not\nfor strength only, but for flavour also,) to the wines of the Rhone and\nof Provence. Such is my opinion: experto credat who will.\n\nIt may amuse my reader to learn that he may perhaps have been drinking\nFrench wine, when he little suspected that it lay concealed in \"humble\nport.\" A trade, which in its first stage is not contraband, whatever it\nmay be in its second, is carried on between the French shores of the\nMediterranean and Portugal: wines are shipped off to Oporto, which, by\nthe help of brandy and other manipulation, become good port wine for the\nLondon market.\n\nI was told by a negociant, an intelligent man, not a wine-merchant,\nthat it was the wish of the wine-growers of France, that wine imported\ninto England should pay a duty _ad valorem_, on the price, not on the\nquantity. He did not expect that the English government should be\ncontent to receive a less amount of duty on the same quantity of wine,\nthe mean quality supposed the same: but he asserted that wines of\ninferior quality, which could not be imported in the face of the duty\nper gallon, would then find their way; that the consumption of wine\nwould be much increased; and the English government, as well as the\nFrench wine-dealer and proprietor of vineyards, would both be benefited.\nAs fiscal regulations have spoiled our malt liquor, it would be but fair\nto allow to those who are now ruining their health with rum and water,\nthe pleasure of drinking sometimes a bottle of small French wine. What?\nA bottle of Burgundy at a farmer's ordinary? Gentlemen travellers\ndrinking claret? So much are men the slaves of habit, that the\nsupposition appears extravagant; and, after a twelvemonth, the thing\nitself would be no more astonishing than it is now in France.\n\nThe French, who have seen the atmosphere of smoke in which London is\nenveloped, and the sea-coal pouring its volumes of smoke up the\nchimney, have disseminated throughout France a certain horror of coal\nfires. There are, near Lyons, mines of coal of a quality superior to any\nI have yet seen, like the Wednesbury, but better. I had some difficulty\nin making the blacksmith comprehend what ought to be the form of such\nmachines as grate, poker, fender. \"Things by their name I call;\" though\nto my blacksmith I was obliged to use every sort of periphrasis. _My_\npoker was made with a hook at the end of it; the fender had a handle to\nit; the bars of the grate were too small and too near each other. The\nhook of the poker was soon straightened in the fire: of the fender\nhandle I was contented to declare, \"il n'y a pas de mal a cela:\"[55] as\nthe bars of my grate, though near, were not thick; they did not\nintercept more heat than usual.\n\nTaking the precaution to have a wood fire in my second salon, I ventured\nto invite my friends to see my fire de charbon de terre. They were much\nsurprised and pleased. \"Il n'y a pas de mauvaise odeur: ce feu se fait\nrespecter: quelle chaleur!\"[56] The combined advantages of greater heat\nand less cost, (for the coal fire was maintained at about half the\nexpense of a wood fire,) procured imitators. The general commanding\nthe department had a grate set up: the smith made it after his own\nfaulty model, declaring, no doubt, that it was _a l'Anglaise_: the\ngeneral was, however, well satisfied, telling me that the coal fire\nwarmed the three rooms of his apartment as well as a wood fire in each\nand every one of them. The woods have been especially ravaged during an\naera of insecure possession; and fire-wood, always an expensive article,\nis generally, throughout France, become dearer than formerly, except in\nthe neighbourhood of great forests.\n\nI will endeavour to enable any one to judge how far it may be worth his\nwhile to come to reside in France from motives of economy. With his\nmotives for being economical I have nothing to do: any one may be\neconomical at home who pleases; but it does not please some people to be\neconomical at home: others wish to have more for the same money. The\nFrench are sometimes puzzled to make out why the English come abroad;\nperhaps the English are sometimes equally puzzled themselves: but, with\nreference to economy, sometimes the English seem to them to be\ntravelling for the sake of spending money; sometimes to be staying in\nFrance for the purpose of saving it: the riches as well as the high\nprices of England are exaggerated; the latter to a degree that would\nmake the riches to be merely nominal: then, the difference between\nFrench and English prices is supposed to be so great, that the saving,\nby living in France, must be enormous. Many English have, at first, no\nclearer notions than the French on these subjects.\n\nThe price of almost every article, the produce of agricultural or\nmanufacturing industry, has been increased one-third, some say\ntwo-fifths, in France since the beginning of the Revolution: the taxes\nhave been trebled. We know that, within the last thirty years, prices\nand taxes have been augmented in England at about the same rates; so\nthat, on both sides of the water, the proportion has been preserved: but\nthe English knew very little of France during the war; whereas the\nFrench knew England by their emigrants, who reported truly the high\nprices then prevalent: thus some unsettled or erroneous opinions on\ndomestic economy may be accounted for. I left England while paper\ncurrency was still in _force_, and before prices were lowered as since\nthey have been: my estimate must be corrected accordingly.\n\nThe result of between three and four years experience is, that about\none-sixth is saved by living, not in Paris, but in a provincial town in\nFrance, or that a franc will go as far as a shilling. Set against this\nsaving the expenses of the journey, and the saving will not be great to\nthose who do not retrench in their mode of life, but live in France in\nthe same style as at home. The exchange on bills drawn on England may be\nfavourable; but some little money sticks in every hand through which\nmoney passes, which balances this advantage.\n\nHouse-rent is higher in France than in England; fuel much dearer: some\nmanufactured articles, as woollen cloth for coats, and linen or cotton\nfor shirts, are equally dear: colonial produce, as sugar and coffee, is\nof a variable price, but not much cheaper: tea is cheaper, as the\nAmericans supply it, or England with a remission of the duty. But there\nare no assessed taxes, no poor-rates: provisions I found to be cheaper\nby about one-third than I had left them in England; and my younger\nchildren, instead of small beer, with half a glass of wine each after\ndinner, now drank wine, with discretion indeed, but at discretion. The\nmore numerous my family, the greater was the advantage to me of this\ndiminution of the daily expense of food.\n\nYet I calculate that at the end of forty-two months, including what the\njourney to Avignon cost me, and the difference between the price at\nwhich my furniture was bought, and that at which it was sold,--I had\nspent, within one twentieth, as much as it would have cost me to live in\nmy county town in England with the the same establishment and in the\nsame manner. The smaller the income annually expended, the greater in\nproportion will be the saving; because it is chiefly on the necessary\narticles of living, that expense is spared; but a man of large, or even\nof moderate fortune, will hardly think it worth his while to dwell many\nyears in a foreign country merely for the sake of saving five pounds in\na hundred. The less the distance to which he travels, and the longer his\nstay; the more he becomes acquainted with the mode of dealing, and\nlearns what are just prices;--the greater proportionably will be the\nsavings of the economizing resident. A saving of five per cent is at\nleast not a loss. Wise men should not entertain extravagant\nexpectations, and prudent men should know what they are about to\nundertake. Those who are neither wise nor prudent had better stay at\nhome: I do not write for such; but to give to family men such advice as\nI found no one capable of giving me; but which, through much toil and\ncost and peril, I had obtained the faculty of offering to others.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[50] O cherished liberty! in vain I follow after thee:\n I see thy _tree_ every where, and thy fruits no where.\n\n[51] But it is in suffering continually.\n\n[52] But what would you have? the air is on fire.\n\n[53] A mean or medium winter.\n\n[54] I am a better gentleman than my father, because I have one\ngeneration more.\n\n[55] There is no harm in that.\n\n[56] There is no bad smell. This fire makes itself respected. What a\nheat!\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XII.\n\n\nExcepting only Rome and its immediate neighbourhood, no part of Italy\ncan exhibit so many remains of Roman antiquity as are to be found within\na short distance of Avignon. The Romans seem to have united Provence to\nItaly, as the French have since united Piedmont to France. Our English\ntravellers, who, according to the plan mentioned in the first chapter,\npass one summer in going to Italy and another in returning from it, will\ndo well to make Avignon their head quarters for some time, and visit the\ncuriosities around. There is Nismes with the Pont du Gard, Arles, St.\nRemy, Orange, already mentioned, and other places. There is also the\nfar-famed fountain of Vaucluse. A commission of antiquarian research is\nestablished within the department; at Nismes also much attention is paid\nto these objects, and with good reason; for no town in Europe, Rome\nexcepted, possesses such precious remains.\n\nIn the beginning of the month of September of my second year, I hired a\ncoach with three horses again, (for no god of them all is so fond of an\nuneven number as these coach-masters,) and, with part of my family, took\nthe road to Vaucluse. It passes first over a fertile alluvial plain,\nformed, in remote ages, by the Rhone and Durance when they overflowed\ntheir banks, as the Oby and Tobol do now. Then we traversed a country of\ncorn, wine, and oil, and descended to Lisle, a little town on the\nSorgues, the river of Vaucluse, from whose fountain it is distant about\nfour miles. For three of these four miles as far as the village, we were\nable to proceed in our carriage; but, from this point, the Naiad\nrequires to be reverentially approached on foot. We ascended a gentle\nsteep, the Sorgues on our right-hand,--a stream, which, even here, so\nnear its head, has force to turn several mills that harmonise well with\nthe landscape. Above the mills it began to assume more and more a\ntorrent-like appearance; the rocks approached nearer on each side, and\nconfined us within a still closer valley. Whither has the nymph of the\nstream retired? At length the termination of the valley appeared before\nus; a lofty curtain of rock, at half the height of which was seen a wide\nand dusky arch, overshadowed by a fig-tree growing out of the precipice\nabove. Over a shelving rock, at the foot of this arch, the water throws\nitself.\n\nBut there was at this time no cascade; the fountain was more than\nordinarily low; streams gushed through fissures at the foot and sides of\nthe rock below the arch, and indicated their source. The shelf or lip,\nat the mouth of the cavern, forms a natural bridge over these streams:\nwe ascended to this shelf, and went down into the cavern a considerable\ndepth before we arrived at the water: here, a rock projecting into the\nwater prevented us from going into a second cavern; but we could see,\n(for the opening above afforded sufficient light,) that this second\ncavern was the last.\n\nI thought it very fortunate that the fountain was so low: had it been\nfull, we should have seen a water-fall; but I had now seen the Helicon\nof Petrarch,--had penetrated to the source of his inspiration,\n\n ------atque sacri libamina palleo fontis,\n\nas was written by a young man of genius at Oxford, in my time, whose\nname I do not remember, though I have not forgotten this striking and\nbeautiful expression. In sober sadness, I think it an advantage to\nunderstand the nature and situation of the fountain better than I\nshould have done had I seen only a picturesque cascade. I do not\nbelieve the immediate source of the fountain to be within the cavern,\nbut that its waters are supplied in subterranean courses by the\nsurrounding country: this is proved, I think, by their quantity being so\nmuch affected by rain or drought. St. Winifred's well at Holywell, in\nFlintshire,--a fountain as copious as that of the Sorgues,--is not at\nall increased or diminished by any change of the seasons.\n\nWe loitered for two hours on the bank of the tumbling torrent, sat under\nthe shade of walnut trees, and eat of their fallen fruit; drank water\nfrom the fountain, talked about Petrarch and Laura, and refused, from\nincredulity, and on account of the heat of the sun, to mount a hill to a\nhouse which, we were assured, had been inhabited by the bard. At the\nvillage of Vaucluse, we took into our carriage some delicious grapes,\nand returned to Lisle, where we dined on eels and trout, the boasted\nfare of the place, prepared in three several ways. As the landlord at\nLisle is said sometimes to over-charge, I will do his reputation the\njustice to observe that, for a dejeune a la fourchette, and dinner for\nfive persons, with good vin du pays, he demanded twenty-five\nfrancs,--perhaps ten sous a head too much. We got into our coach as the\nsun set and the moon rose, and our three horses took us back to Avignon\nin two hours.\n\nIn the very heart and centre of the romantic scenery of the Vallis\nClausa, a little to the right of the cavern out of which issues the\nfountain, on the ledge over which it falls, is stuck a mean ugly pillar,\nput there by somebody to commemorate something. I mention this pillar\nonly in the hope that good taste will command its demolition. Even if it\nwere fine and rare, it would be there misplaced: \"fortasse cupressum\nscis simulare,\" but what has that to do with a shipwreck?\n\nMy younger son had accompanied to Vaucluse the lady whose visit of\nfifteen days had so much astonished the Avignonais a few months before.\nOur excursion thither was made under the conduct of my elder son, and\nwas rendered more agreeable by his frank manners and cheerful\nattentions. As the fate of this young man, now in his nineteenth year,\nis the occurrence the most important to me, and, I am persuaded, the\nsubject most interesting to my readers in the contents of this\nnarrative,--I will give some account of the infancy of this son, that he\nmay be introduced to their acquaintance, and the last scene of his life\nin some sort prepared for. Alas! within two years, on the anniversary\nof our journey to Vaucluse, the delirium of his fever deprived me for\nthe remainder of my life of the comfort of his society, excepting only\none short and consoling conversation immediately before his death. I\ntrust, in the divine mercy, to rejoin him in the abodes of the just.\n\nHis birth was announced to me at three o'clock in the morning of the 5th\nof May 1801. In anxious expectation of this news I had forborn to retire\nto rest. It was still necessary for me to wait some little time before I\ncould be admitted to see my first-born. I then lived at Bath, in the\nwest wing of Lansdown Crescent: behind each house of this building is a\nlong strip of garden, of the breadth of the house. In the tumult of new\naffections I went out into my garden: the twilight of the morning was\nvisible: I offered to God this child, who, by the ancient law, would\nhave been consecrated to him, to serve at the altar, if such were the\ndivine will; praying that, in whatever state, he might so live as to\nsecure his own salvation, and contribute to the edification of others:\nthat if he were not to fulfil this only worthy purpose of existence, he\nmight now die in infancy; but that rather his days might be prolonged,\nif that were to the glory of God, and the increase of his own merit and\nreward. My prayer was heard: I returned into the house, and gave a\nfather's blessing to the stranger.\n\nHe received in baptism the names Henry Kenelm; the former adopted in his\nfamily for the last four generations, the latter derived from my\nmaternal grandfather. His sponsors were Sir Thomas Fletewood, the last\nof an ancient and pious family of Cheshire; and his lady, afterwards\nmarried to the Count St. Martin de Front, Sardinian ambassador at\nLondon. To her it is no doubt a source of Christian consolation to know,\neven in this life, that her godson fulfilled the engagement contracted\nin his name.\n\nThey who have attentively observed the early years of children must be\nconvinced that each and every one of them is born with a distinct and\nindividual character. Two men of fifty, \"stained with the variation of\neach soil,\" will differ from each other in manners and opinions more\nthan two children of the same family: but two children of the same\nfamily will, in character, differ from each other as much as two men of\nfifty. Pascal suggests a doubt whether, as custom is called a second\nnature, nature itself may not be a former custom. This profound thought\nleads to the question whether human souls have existed previously to\ntheir imprisonment in this \"body of our humiliation.\" That they have so\nexisted I think extremely probable for many very cogent reasons: it is\nan opinion which I could defend, merely as an opinion, by many powerful\narguments. I am contented \"not to be wise beyond what is written.\" Yet\nit is written that, when the disciples asked our Lord, \"Did this man sin\nor his parents, that he was born blind?\" our Lord, without reproving the\nsupposition that the man might have sinned before his birth, simply\nanswered, \"Neither did this man sin, nor his parents.\"\n\nHenry Kenelm manifested, as early as the natural character can be\nmanifested, a proud, impetuous, obstinate, angry temper: that he wanted\nany thing was, with him, a reason why he should have it; that any other\nchild was younger or weaker than himself, entitled him, as he thought,\nto domineer. He had also the good qualities usually opposed to these\nfaults in the same character; he was generous, grateful, confiding,\ncompassionate. As no one, in so short a life, ever more completely\nsubdued than he did the faults of his natural temper, I record them for\nthe sake of doing homage to that religion by the aid of which he was\nenabled to correct them.\n\nHis understanding was quick and lively, and he learned readily and with\npleasure. A cause of hindrance and delay that occurred to him in\nlearning to read shall here be mentioned as a caution to parents,\ninstitutors, and governesses. To play at learning to read is regarded as\na great improvement on the \"Reading-made-easy,\" of less enlightened\ntimes. A lady made him a present of a cylindrical ivory box containing\ncounters, on which were inscribed the letters of the alphabet. He\ntrundled the box on the carpet, he threw the letters on the carpet, and\nviewed them in all directions, sometimes sideways, sometimes\ntopsy-turvy; so that he no longer knew them again when he saw them\nupright in a book: b and q and d and p more especially puzzled him:\nbesides, the place of letters in words is of great use towards learning\ntheir power, and this help his counters did not afford him. To impose on\nhim the task of arranging the letters in _verbal_ order, would have\nincluded all the restraint of a formal lesson. The conclusion is, that\nif children play, they do not learn; and while they learn, they must not\nplay: there is a time for all things: their lessons must be short on\naccount of the softness of the brain, but attention must be insisted on;\nthey cannot be cheated as to the nature of the occupation, but they\nhave sense enough to find pleasure in the consciousness of improvement.\n\nWhen Kenelm was little more than five years and a half old, his elder\nsister died: she was thirteen months younger than himself. Never was\nchild more lovely in death than this little girl. I gazed on her with\nthe feeling, since portrayed in the inimitable lines of the Giaour,\nbeginning\n\n He who hath bent him o'er the dead.\n\nThese lines I read fourteen years afterwards at Avignon; they thrilled\nand electrified me: the touch of genius recalled the scene I had\nwitnessed. Yet it should seem that associations supplied by reason and\nexperience are requisite to the contemplation of such an object with the\nsentiments described by Lord Byron. I led Kenelm to see his sister two\nhours after her death: terror was his predominant emotion; the\nimmobility of what still so much resembled life appalled him. He burst\ninto tears. \"If I had thought she would have looked _so_, I would not\nhave come to see her;\" nor could he for some time pass the door of that\nchamber without shuddering.\n\nWhen he was twelve years old, I placed him at Stoneyhurst college in\nLancashire. This society of English Jesuits, the dreadful Jesuits of\nSt. Omers, of the Popish plot, had, within half a century, suffered\nthree removes or _demenagemens_, which both the French and English\nproverb says are worse than a fire. They had been expelled from St.\nOmers by the French government, had been obliged by Joseph II. to quit\nBruges, and had been driven from Liege by the approach of the French\narmies. They had now been established for some years in a country-seat\nof the family of Lulworth castle. Mr. Weld had given them a beneficial\nlease of the house and domain of Stoneyhurst, for which they expressed\nmuch gratitude. It is good to be grateful: gratitude is a Christian\nvirtue, and well-becoming those who by their missions, their literary\nlabours, and their institutions for education, have acquired so much\nglory to themselves, and rendered such signal services to the Christian\nworld. Let them always be grateful.\n\nAn account of their plan of education may not be unacceptable, and may\nfurnish some hints to the heads of our great schools. I am inclined to\nthink that the Jesuits, though as much spoken against, are very little\nmore known in England than at the time when I left it.\n\nThe whole number of boys, about two hundred and fifty, is divided into\nsix schools or classes, to each of which a master is appointed, who, in\nthe course of six years, conducts his set of boys, from the elements of\ngrammar in the French, Latin, and Greek languages, to rhetoric, or the\nreading of the best classical authors. The fifth year, or that before\nrhetoric, is set apart for the study of the poets only. After this\ncourse of six years, lectures are given by the professors of moral and\nnatural philosophy.\n\nThe masters have no intercourse with their scholars except during the\nholding the class or saying the lesson: prefects are appointed to\nsuperintend them at all other times. They study in a large room destined\nto this use only: a prefect, in a lofty tribune, enforces application: a\nprefect attends them while at play to prevent violence, quarrelling, or\nindecorous language: a prefect sleeps in a little room with a glass door\nat the end of the dormitory.\n\nThe play-ground is divided into two equal portions, one of which is\nallotted to the boys of the three higher, the other to the boys of the\nthree lower schools, and no one is allowed to cross the bisecting line.\nThus the tyranny of the great boys over the little ones, and the\nrequisition of petty, irregular, or mischievous services is prevented:\nthus also the years and strength of those who play together are\ngenerally more equal.\n\nNo master or other superior, who conceives that a boy has deserved\npunishment, is allowed to inflict that punishment himself, but is\nobliged to send such boy to the prefect appointed for the time\nadministrator of the ferula: the boys, either from custom or the point\nof honour, or the fear of worse, always ask for the number of strokes of\nthe ferula which they may be ordered by the superior to receive. A\nwhimsical result of subordination, that a lad of seventeen shall go to a\nman of five and twenty, and say, \"Please, Sir, to give me nine ferulas.\"\nHorace talks of the ferula; he does not say that he petitioned for it\nhimself; and I saw, by an al fresco at Portici, that boys were flogged,\ntwo thousand years ago, just as they now are in our country schools.\n\nThe dormitory is a lofty room, in which each boy has his bed-place to\nhimself, separated from his neighbours by a wainscot partition six feet\nhigh; a curtain, with a number upon it, is drawn at the foot of the\nbed-place, which is open at the top. During the day-time the dormitory\nis locked, and none but the servants of the house are, on any account,\npermitted to go into it.\n\nThe eleves of Stoneyhurst wear an uniform: this regulation, I am\npersuaded, has a better moral influence on their minds than ferulas and\ndisciplines: \"their feet are accommodated,\" as a fine writer once\nexpressed it, with very thick shoes; \"and their heads are protected\" by\na leathern cap: this cap is made to shade the face or to be turned up at\npleasure; it is trimmed with fur, and, while fresh, looks very smart:\nbut it is soon _degraded_, as the French phrase is, by the various uses\nto which caprice or convenience induces the boys to apply it: they sit\nupon it; they kneel upon it; they blow, or rather fan the fire with it;\nthey use it for a bag, and perhaps sometimes, when unseen by the\nprefect, they give each other slaps on the face with it;--a trait\nd'ecolier for the which its form, when folded, is admirably well\nadapted. A blue jacket and red waistcoat of coarse cloth, dark velveteen\npantalon, and worsted stockings, a black velvet stock round the collar\nof a very coarse shirt, complete the habiliments of the Stoneyhurst\ncollegian. \"Forsan et haec olim,\" &c.\n\nThe boys rise at half past five in the morning and go to bed at half\npast eight in the evening. Prayers in the chapel begin and end every\nday, and they assist at mass daily. Those who are of sufficient age\nconfess and communicate once a fortnight.\n\nSuch are, in the main, the regulations of this Jesuits' college. During\ntheir unsettled state, the society had admitted but few new members; in\nconsequence, the education of their youth was, at this time, conducted\nchiefly by old men without activity, and young men without experience.\nThe course of a few years has remedied this evil.\n\nWhen Kenelm arrived at Stoneyhurst, his heart bounded within him at the\nsight of the spacious buildings, and of between two and three hundred\nplayfellows: he immediately procured a cap and black collar, and was as\nvain of them as a young ensign of his cockade and sword. The superior\nled me over the college; Kenelm followed and considered all as provided\nfor his use and convenience. I tried to persuade him that his visits to\nthe library, the academy-room, the strangers' apartment, and the garden\nof the superiors, would not hereafter be very frequent; that his repasts\nin the refectory, though sufficient and wholesome, would not be\nluxurious. I was unable to moderate his transport: hardly could I\nprevail on him to show some signs of regret at parting from me. I\nappealed to \"Philip when sober.\"\n\nThe next summer, I found him sober enough: he had discovered that he was\nonly one of a crowd; he felt the want of domestic affections, and of\nthose comforts which home only can supply. I consoled him however, and\nleft him, after three days spent at Whalley, in a disposition to endure\nall that his duty and the destined course of his studies might require.\n\n\"O Athenians,\" said Themistocles, \"how much do I suffer to gain your\napplause!\" Children have but too much reason to exclaim, \"O\nThemistocles, how much do we suffer to be able to read your history!\"\n\nThe next summer, I sent for him to Park Gate, where he rejoined his\nbrother and sisters after two years absence. To the number of his\nsisters was added one, whose infancy, unsuited for travelling, delayed\nmy journey to France. At this time he was gay and cheerful: he did not\nknow the world, and was not afraid of it; yet his behaviour was directed\nby an ever sure sense of propriety. I was pleased and satisfied with\nhim:--he passed five weeks with us. I had given him the meeting at\nLiverpool, whither he had been conducted by a prefect: I now took him\nback to the same town, where we found a prefect with whom he returned to\nhis college.\n\nIn the month of July of the following year, 1816, I received a letter\nfrom one of the superiors of the college, informing me that my son, with\nthirty-six other boys, had fallen ill of the measles; that my son had\nrecovered, but, having been allowed to go out too soon, had again fallen\nill. The letter was couched in terms so ambiguous, and implying so much\ndoubt of the event, that it caused great alarm. I set off immediately:\nno other letter was written, and Kenelm's mother was kept in a state of\nfearful anxiety, till I wrote to her from Stoneyhurst that her son was\nrecovered from the relapse. He was however so much weakened, that I\nthought it advisable to take him to the sea-coast. I passed ten days\nwith him alone, and had an opportunity of appreciating his character, of\nobserving his unaffected good sense, his gentle and amiable manners, his\nwatchfulness over his conscience, his dutiful affection to his father,\nhis piety towards God.\n\nWe returned to college to be present at the academy-day, and the\ndistribution of the prizes. Kenelm had been assured that, but for his\nillness, one of these prizes would have fallen to his share. I\ncomforted him as well as I could, quoting--\"satis est potuisse videri.\"\n\nIn the spring of the following year, I took my younger son to\nStoneyhurst, in the hope that the brothers would find present pleasure\nin each others' company, and hereafter talk over together the scenes of\ntheir boyhood. I observed that Kenelm's spirits appeared depressed: I\nquestioned him; he assured me he had nothing to complain of: I\ninterrogated the master: he spoke of Kenelm with great regard, and knew\nnot that any cause of uneasiness existed for him. I passed three days\nwith my sons, during which time Kenelm's cheerfulness returned, or\nseemed to return; and I left them together.\n\nTowards the end of this year, I finally resolved to put in execution my\nlong-projected, long-delayed, continental plan. I advised the brothers\nof my purpose, who were, of course, delighted with the news. A kind and\nmuch-esteemed friend, who wished to see Stoneyhurst college, brought\nthem back with him into Lincolnshire at the end of March following.\n\nIn the month that intervened between the return of my sons and our\narrival in Paris, the expectation of the journey, the preparation for\nthe journey, and the journey itself, so far occupied the mind of\nKenelm, that I had not remarked in him any extraordinary want of gaiety:\nI perceived only that he was more serious, that his manner was less\nfrank, and even his carriage less easy than heretofore. At Paris, the\nfirst discovery I made respecting him was that he was become\nshort-sighted. As we were viewing the statues of the Louvre, he\nexclaimed, \"I see nothing but blocks of marble;\" and he went off\nimmediately to Chevalier's, the optician, to buy himself a lorgnette. I\nsympathized with him, knowing by experience that a short sight deprives\nus of a great part of the pleasure of existence, besides being an\nincalculable disadvantage in society. He imputed his short-sightedness\nto his having imprudently given himself up to study, before his health\nwas fully re-established after the measles, in the hope of gaining, at\nthe next academy-day, the medal which he had lost by his illness; that\nhe had read a great deal by the flaring gas lights with which the\ncollege is illuminated.\n\nSomething remained behind, a reserve, a sadness even, which I entreated\nhim to account for. He gave me his full confidence; and I learned, with\nvery great sorrow, that, for the last eighteen months of his stay in\ncollege, his mind had been a prey to scruples. This \"pious awe, and\nfear to have offended,\" carried to excess through inexperience and a\nwant of due apprehension that it is by the will only that we\noffend,--had destroyed his gaiety, retarded his improvement, and\ndoubtlessly much injured his health.\n\nI asked him, \"What advice did your director give you?\"--\"None.\"--\"Any\nother superior?\"--\"None.\" Yet his state was sufficiently evident: he\njoined in no play; he did not seek the company of his brother. Alone, or\nwith one or two companions, he employed the time allowed for play in\nwalking up and down, indulging the workings of his own mind. I regretted\nthat I had not taken him home when he requested, after his illness: I\nregretted that, instead of taking his brother to college,--a measure so\ninefficient for his consolation,--I had not come to France a twelvemonth\nsooner: I regretted the time lost, and the time that was still to be\nlost in regaining it. But Kenelm's mind was now at ease; feelings,\noriginating probably in a weak state of health, and continued only\nthrough want of good counsel and sympathy, were at an end, when he found\nhimself with those whom he loved, by whom he was beloved: his\nunderstanding was too clear for him to persevere either in inadequate\nnotions of the divine goodness, or in false judgments respecting duty.\n\nScruples are, by no means, of the nature of religious melancholy; they\nare not inconsistent with the Christian grace of hope: they suppose\ninnocence; for the sinner may be hardened, may be penitent, may be\nwavering, but cannot properly be said to be scrupulous: scruples not\nonly preserve from sin, but have also the good effect (the gift of\ndivine mercy,) of purging the heart from all affection to sin, as was\nmanifested in the future life of Kenelm.\n\nYet this fear, \"the beginning of wisdom,\" acting on an ill-informed\nconscience, is hurtful, as it indisposes to a cheerful energetic\nperformance of duty. I said to Kenelm, \"If there are beings, (and we are\ntold that such there are,) who are interested that man should do ill,\nthey could by no other means so effectually obtain their purpose as by\nfixing our attention on that by which we may offend.\" A priest, whom I\nhad known in England during his emigration, and whom I had the advantage\nof meeting again at Paris; a man whose sanctity inspired Kenelm with\nrespect and confidence,--said to him, \"Unless you shall be as sure that\nyou have offended God in the way in which you apprehend, as you would be\nsure of having committed murder, I forbid you to mention it even to me\nin confession.\" I will own that the vigour and prudence united in this\ncounsel struck me with awe. The saints are men of great minds:\nphilosophers are mistaken in thinking them fools.\n\nA kind and discreet priest, at Avignon, talked to Kenelm in the same\nsense, reminding him of the saying of St. Francis of Sales, \"that\nscruples are the worst things in the world except sin.\" Kenelm's mind\nrecovered its wonted cheerfulness and activity: family affections,\nchange of scene, and new occupations soon completed what good advice had\nbegun. He was yet too young to enter into society: he laboured to\nperfect himself in the French language; he was delighted with drawing,\ndeclaring that, were it consistent with duty, he could pass the whole\nday in that amusement. He continued his classical studies from the point\nat which they had been interrupted by his leaving college, where he was\nin his fifth or poetical year. I read with him Homer and Virgil.\n\nOf the Iliad he said, that, a few well-known sublime passages excepted,\nthe rest, was vulgar: and when I mouthed forth the Greek, in order to\nimpose on him the conviction that it was very fine,--\"I grant you that\nHomer has the advantage of a sonorous language and the hexameter line;\nbut there is very little grace in the expression, nor is the thought\ndeserving of it.\" He admired the delicacy of sentiment in the AEneid: he\ndiscovered in it traces of more advanced civilization and more improved\nknowledge than are to be found in Homer, as well as a more correct and\nrefined taste. I recommended the Odyssey to him, not only on account of\nits varied fable and \"specious wonders,\" but for the justness with which\nhuman character and natural feeling are there rendered. We also read\ntogether that Machiavel of historians, Tacitus, who, as I endeavoured to\npersuade Kenelm, has treated the fame of Tiberius with great injustice,\nby representing him, on every occasion, as a cunning and cruel tyrant;\nwhereas he was always wise, habitually just, and often beneficent. Let\nany one fairly and impartially analyse the actions of this sovereign and\nthe comments of the historian, and he will perhaps be inclined to allow\nthat my opinion is not altogether unreasonable. Concerning the personal\nvices of Tiberius there is here no question.\n\nI was delighted with one of the results of my continental plan,--that my\nchildren were now all of them under my own care. To what purpose subject\nboys to all the privations, restraints, and severities,--all the\nconsequences of the ignorances and negligences of the managers of great\nschools,--that they may acquire a very moderate knowledge of two dead\nlanguages, which they generally neglect during the rest of their lives;\nand this for six years or more? Who doubts but that he could learn to\nread French in six months? And why should he not be equally capable of\nlearning Latin in the same space of time? And in six months more he may\nlearn to read Greek, which is rather the easier language of the two: he\nmay thus obtain admission to the treasures of wisdom and good taste\ncontained in those languages, in one-sixth of the time now usually\nthrown away in a vain attempt to that purpose; for, I repeat it, boys\nare compelled to employ the time of their education in _not_ learning\nwhat is of no use to them.\n\nLatin is no longer the language of literary composition, diplomatic\nintercourse, or epistolary correspondence. It is sufficient that a few\nmen, in every generation, write Latin, like Bishop Louth, or Dr. Martin\nJoseph Routh. The principal nations of Europe have their classics,\nformed indeed upon the ancient classical model; and these, therefore,\nwill be better understood and more enjoyed by those who cultivate an\nacquaintance with that model. Still, however, such previous acquaintance\nis not indispensable: its advantage consists chiefly in being able to\nnote allusions and institute comparisons.\n\nLet me not be understood to express a wish that the Greek and Latin\nauthors were less read than they are at present; on the contrary, I hope\nthat they will always be considered as an essential part of the studies\nof a literary man. That the Greek especially should be so little known\nas now it is, is to me a cause of regret. This language has the singular\nprivilege of having been, during twelve centuries, the language of the\nmost ingenious and enlightened people of all that existed during that\nlong aera. We have their authors from Hesiod to Photius, and still lower\ndown; a library superior to that of any modern nation; for the trash has\nbeen swept away.\n\nFar, very far from me, be the desire, that it should be said of such a\npeople in any sense, literary or political,\n\n 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more.\n\nI have been led into this train of reflection, on recording the\ncontentment with which I saw my children under my own superintendence at\nAvignon. How far it may be reasonable to continue to inflict on our sons\nall the suffering which they endure, when banished from the paternal\nroof, and consigned to the coarse, undiscriminating care of strangers\nfor the sake of the instruction acquired by this plan, I leave every one\nto determine for himself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIII.\n\n\nThree days after our excursion to Vaucluse, I went with my sons to the\nPont du Gard and Nismes. Our coach stopt, for three hours, at Foix; we\ntook our dejeune, at which we had delicious grapes and execrable wine:\none instance amongst a thousand of the ingenuity of man in spoiling the\ngifts of Providence, and its agent, Nature. We walked to the Pont du\nGard, about a mile from our inn. As it is at an equal distance from\nAvignon and from Nismes, parties, from each of these towns, make it a\npoint of rendezvous, establish a pic-nic, and pass the day together.\nWhen we arrived near the Pont, we saw a large company from Nismes,\nregaling themselves in a spacious, dry cavern, well situated for their\npurpose, and affording a most agreeable shade. We passed them to go\nnearer to the bridge: one of them followed us; his accent announced him\nto be an Irishman, and his uniform to be an officer in the French\nservice. He conversed with us a few minutes, and promised to call on me\nat Nismes.\n\nAt the side of the lower part of the Pont du Gard and forming part of\nit, is a bridge over the Gardon: this bridge has been widened in modern\ntimes, but the ancient wheel-track is still seen on the side nearest to\nthe aqueduct. Above the bridge rise three tiers of arches, each tier\ndiminishing in the size, and increasing in the number, of its arches.\nAlong the top is the canal, through which flowed the water for the\nsupply of Nematia at the distance of seventeen miles. The whole has the\nappearance of a magnificent screen of arcades, thrown across the narrow\nand rocky valley through which the Gardon forces its way. Both the sides\nof this screen are beautiful, but the lower side is most to be admired.\nThe ground falls away before it, and gives it the appearance of being\nloftier: it is in a quite secluded scene, in which no road or bridge\nappears.\n\nThis precious remain of antiquity is sufficiently ruined and touched by\ntime to harmonize well with the landscape, but yet so fresh and entire\nas to call up no idea of decay or desolation. The aqueducts of Frejus\nand of Rome are curious, but they possess no beauty in themselves, and\nderive none from the surrounding scenery. Suppose the Pont du Gard in a\nplain, it would still be beautiful as a piece of architecture: see it,\nwhere it is, enclosed by the sides of a deep valley and bestriding a\nrapid river, you will admit it to be an object at once grand and\npicturesque.\n\nWe arrived at Nismes at three in the afternoon, tired and overpowered by\nthe heat and dust. We gave up three hours to rest and cool ourselves,\nand at six set down to dinner; we then walked out by the moon-light of a\nsouthern clime. We passed several handsome buildings; at length I beheld\none which immediately arrested my attention: \"that _shall_ be the Maison\nQuarree,\" exclaimed I. Never had I seen, nor have I since seen any thing\nin architecture so graceful: it seemed by the \"uncertain moon-light\"\nrather to be descending from the skies than standing on the earth.\n\nWe returned the next morning. The portico, from its having been in the\nshade the preceding evening, we had then been hardly able to\ndistinguish: this, with the interior and every part of this exquisitely\nbeautiful building, and all its fine proportions and finished ornaments,\nfilled us with delight and wonder.\n\nThe amphitheatre is close by the Maison Quarree: the site of the larger\nbuilding may very fairly be indicated by that of the smaller, when the\nsmaller edifice is the more interesting of the two. Milton, without any\nsuch excuse, talks of \"the earth close by the moon;\" though his critic\nBentley has indeed corrected the punctuation, \"the earth, close by, the\nmoon.\" This is what may be called punctilious. Had I not since seen the\nColiseum, I should consider the amphitheatre of Nismes as\nindestructible: luckily no builders of palaces have tried the\nexperiment. It is composed of enormous stones, large in all the three\ndimensions, length, breadth, and thickness, which must have required\npowers of mechanism, known to the Romans, but now lost, to raise them to\nthe height at which they now are seen. This amphitheatre is said to be\nrather less in size and rather more ruined than that of Verona: it is\nentire, however, all but the lower ranges of seats: the arena is\noccasionally used for a spectacle somewhat resembling bullfights.\n\nIn the gardens are found remains of ancient baths, many pieces of mosaic\npavement, and the ruins of the temple of Diana, in which are shown other\nobjects found in digging in the neighbourhood. They were blowing up rock\non the side of the hill near the garden, to improve and extend it still\nfurther, and to facilitate the approach to the Tour Magne, or great\ntower of Roman construction. To this tower we ascended; the tower itself\nwe could not ascend: it is a hollow cylinder, without staircase, or\nroof, or platform; the view, however, even at the bottom of the tower\nis sufficiently extensive all around. Southward, it reaches to the\nMediterranean; and though I do not believe that the sea reached to\nNismes, though such is the popular notion;--yet its shores have much\nreceded on this coast. Aigues Mortes, where St. Louis embarked for the\ncrusades, is now three leagues from the sea. Frejus, Forum Julii, is no\nlonger a port: it is probable, then, that the Tour Magne was once a\nlight-house or a land-mark.\n\nNismes, like almost every other ancient town, is ill-built, ill-paved,\nand ill-pierced; but then, in compensation, it has a Boulevard all\naround, or broad road lined with trees; and houses and buildings are\ncontinued all along with very few intervals of interruption. The city\nbeing in the centre, here, on these Boulevards, are united the\naccommodations of a town with the fresh air and promenades of the\ncountry: indeed, of fresh air there is rather too much; it often amounts\nto wind, and then the dust becomes inconvenient; but the gardens are\ndelightful. In this town are thirteen thousand protestants. I know not\nthat English protestants can choose a better town than Nismes for a\nretreat in the South of France: they will find places of public worship,\nthe want of which many of them regret when abroad: there are also\nschools kept by protestants. The protestantism is Genevan; but\n_n'im__porte_; all protestantism is, to a protestant, equally true: we\nhave seen a Calvinist and a Lutheran King become good members of the\nChurch of England at the end of the seventeenth, and beginning of the\neighteenth century.\n\nIn the evening we rambled among the vineyards on the slopes, and reached\nthe summits of the hills at the foot of which Nismes is situated at the\nedge of a vast plain. A locality like this seems favourable to a great\ntown. It draws its supply of wood, wine, and water, from the one sort of\ncountry, and its corn, meat, and forage, from the other.\n\nWe supped in the salon of our inn, the Louvre: there were several\ntables. At one of these was seated a party of Spaniards, who vociferated\nand gesticulated in a manner which they meant perhaps to impose on us\nfor dignity, but which I thought inconsistent with Castilian gravity. At\nthe time, it did not occur to either party that our opinion of each\nother was perfectly insignificant to both. At our table, besides other\npersons, we met a gentleman with whom I was acquainted at Avignon; and\nanother who, after supper, (for he economized his time for eating,)\nbegan a political tirade, which, though addressed to the French, derived\nits chief zest from the presence of the English. He asserted that the\nDuke of Wellington was surprised by the approach of Napoleon to\nBrussels, quitted the ball-room in silk stockings, and went to lose the\nbattle of Waterloo, which battle was gained by the Prussians. As a sort\nof appeal was made to me to defend the military reputation of my Irish\ncountryman, I objected the improbability of a surprise, as two battles\nhad just been fought in the neighbourhood. He reverted to the conclusion\nto be drawn from the silk stockings: I replied \"Puisqu'il y a des\nimprobabilites des deux cotes, il faut demander au Duc lui-meme.\"[57]\n_En attendant_, (for the answer, though, no doubt, it would have been\nsatisfactory, could not be quickly obtained,) the politician began a\ndiscussion on the wealth of England, the existence of which he\nquestioned on account of its debt and paper currency. Again appealed to,\nI admitted that the taxes raised for the payment of the interest of the\ndebt made every individual by so much the poorer, but that the national\nwealth was not diminished, as the taxes passed into the hands of the\nfund-holders. He then went off to paper money, on which he talked with\ngreat good sense: \"Reste a savoir si l'Angleterre est veritablement\nriche; pour moi je crois que la chose representee n'equivaut pas ce qui la\nrepresente.\"[58] I quote the purport of his words, and the words as\nnearly as I can remember them.\n\nHe hit, I think, upon the cause of late and present commercial\nembarrassments: wealth is over-represented. The quantity of paper in\ncirculation at any given time is not a sufficient criterion whether this\nbe or be not the case. Every re-issue or new issue of a bank note is in\nfact a new coinage: in this, as well as in the facility of their\ncreation, bank notes differ from metallic currency, and this difference\nis, to the state, the more important of the two. Representation is\ncontinually \"pressing on the limits\" of real wealth, and is from time to\ntime regorged. \"Pay your bank notes in money,\" said Napoleon in answer\nto some boasting statement of the wealth of England. This too is the\nonly security against bankruptcies.\n\nOur politician was evidently seeking a quarrel. In this purpose he was\nby no means encouraged by the rest of the company, who, every now and\nthen, threw in some qualifying, temperate remark. At the pressing\ninstance of Kenelm, who, not having sufficient experience to be\nimpartial, felt his choler rising, we retired to rest. The next day,\nafter a farewell view of the Maison Quarree, we returned to Avignon,\nwhich we reached in six hours.\n\nA protestant friend, being at Avignon, wished to see the Maison Quarree,\nand inquired of me if it was safe to go to Nismes. \"Will not the papists\nmurder me?\" The cause of this dread is curious; the explication of it\nmay amuse the impartial, that is, almost nobody; but I will venture. The\nprotestants of Nismes had all been favourable to the Revolution. The\nancient royal government of France had not indeed, like the queen and\nparliament of England, insisted on every man's changing his faith, but\nit had resisted the introduction of a new religion: these two cases are\nvery different, though perpetually confounded both by the tolerant and\nintolerant amongst us. However, the protestants of Nismes very naturally\nthrew their weight into that balance, the preponderance of which\npromised them the assurance of their civil rights and political\nconsideration. The catholics on the contrary, not having these motives,\nand carrying into politics that love of stability, the principle of\nwhich they find in their religion, disliked political change, and were\nwell pleased with the return of the king.\n\n\"C'est la le beau cote de la religion catholique; elle n'approuve pas\nles revolutions,\"[59] said a protestant minister of a protestant king.\nHe regarded the matter like a statesman, and no further.\n\nDuring the republican and imperial governments the protestants were the\nstronger party at Nismes, and had made the catholics feel that they were\nso. On the restoration, a scuffle took place between the parties, in\nwhich some half dozen protestants were killed. Of this unlucky affray\ngreat advantage was taken in England: committees were appointed and\nsubscriptions raised for the purpose of succouring \"our distressed\nbrethren, the protestants of the south of France.\" The \"no popery\" cry\nbeing once well set up, it was thought right to inquire into the extent\nof the mischief. A letter was returned from France, reporting nearly\nwhat has been stated above; this letter the noble person to whom it was\naddressed kept in his pocket some days before he sent it to the\ncommittee, that the \"no popery\" cry might not go down too soon. The fear\nentertained by my friend of being murdered by the papists at Nismes need\nnot now be wondered at: it was only three or four years since such\nthings had happened; and it is well known, that what has happened once,\nmay happen again.\n\nHatred of popery is, in England, an amiable sentiment originating in a\nlove of religious truth and confirmed by political wisdom. In such a\nsentiment, so pure in its source, so wise in its direction, heroes of\nall sorts may glory. In them it is distinguishable from poperyphobia:\nthey are not afraid of popery: popery is afraid of them.\n\nShakspeare's Hotspur cries out, \"A plague o' this quiet life: I want\nwork.\" For myself, being no hero, I love a quiet life; but I cannot\nrefuse to heroes the tribute of admiration that is due to them and their\nlaurels.\n\nFor the catholics of Nismes, I believe them to be more devout and more\ndecorous than those of the rest of France. The circumstances in which\nthey are placed render this probable. The catholics of England are the\nmost zealous and the most decent of all Christendom: an Italian\nnobleman, who knew them well, said to me, in speaking of them, \"ce sont\ndes saints:\"[60] a papal nuncio to the Brazils, thrown by a sort of\nshipwreck on the English coast, and going to chapel in London, was\ndelighted to find what he called \"so precious a portion of the church of\nChrist.\" I went into some of the churches of Nismes, and found, on the\ninner door of one of them, an _ecriteau_ requesting the faithful not to\nallow their dogs to follow them to church. At Avignon the dogs made\nlove, or war, and barked in the churches at pleasure.\n\nReluctant to approach to the catastrophe of my residence in France, I\nloiter on my way, and turn aside into by-paths. Yet a little more of\ndetail, I hope neither tedious nor uninstructive,--yet a few more\nnotices respecting the principal personage in this drama of woe;--and I\nwill proceed to fix the reader's admiration of the character of that\nperson, to call forth his compassion for my sufferings, and his\nindignation at the conduct of those medical men, whom, though I have\ndescribed their conduct as it deserves, I endeavour to pity and to\npardon.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[57] Since there are improbabilities on both sides, it is necessary to\nask the duke himself.\n\n[58] It remains to be known if England be really rich; for me, I believe\nthat the thing represented is not equal in value to that which\nrepresents it.\n\n[59] That is the fair side of the catholic religion; it does not approve\nof revolutions.\n\n[60] They are saints.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIV.\n\n\nDuring the forty months that I resided at Avignon two capital executions\nonly took place; one at Avignon, which I did not witness, and one at\nCarpentras, at which town, on account of its being in the centre of the\ndepartment, the tribunals or assizes are held. During the last year that\nI passed in Lincolnshire four criminals were hanged. Lincolnshire is\nsmaller and much less populous than the department of Vaucluse. The\ndisproportion is enormous. This subject has frequently been brought\nbefore the public, and before the public I leave it.\n\nIn the second year of my sojourn, a mission was preached at Avignon. On\nthe expediency or prudence of these missions, concerning which so much\ndifference of opinion prevailed among the French themselves, a stranger\nis hardly competent to decide. Many were offended that catholic France\nshould be treated like a country that had never heard of the gospel; but\nthis view of the matter was formed rather on a strict and somewhat\ncaptious interpretation of the word _mission_, than from any thing in\nthe scheme itself justifying such an interpretation. The gospel was not\npreached by the missionaries as new, but as having been neglected. Yet\nthis supposition of neglect threw a blame somewhere; and these\nextraordinary means taken to repair it excited animosity.\n\nSix thousand parishes throughout France were said, at this time, to want\npastors; and it was regretted that funds should be diverted from the\nmaintenance of the seminaries or their more effectual support, to supply\nthe expense of desultory efforts, of evanescent enthusiasm.\n\nOn the other hand it was argued that, for a quarter of a century,\nreligion had been discouraged; for one year of that time it had been\nproscribed, and the churches closed; during all that time Christian\neducation had been notoriously neglected; so many clergy had been\nbanished, that the remainder had been insufficient to the various\nfunctions required of them; that to recover from such a state,\nextraordinary remedies were called for.\n\nAfter all, there was nothing so very extraordinary in these missions:\nfrom three to six priests, men of some talent, zeal, and eloquence,\narrived in a town, stayed there a greater or less number of days\naccording to the population, or, it may be, the spiritual wants of the\nplace, preached, and heard confessions. Yet let any one suppose what\nwould be the effect of the presence of half a dozen methodist teachers\nin any town in England, and he will be able to form an idea of the state\nof Avignon, pending the mission which lasted, as well as I can remember,\nabout a fortnight.\n\nThe churches were crowded; those who wished to have seats to hear the\nsermon at six in the evening, were obliged to take their places at\nmid-day; these were chiefly women: men, who could bear the fatigue of\nstanding during the sermon, occupied every space large enough for a pair\nof feet.\n\nThe _lessive_, so the washing is called from the wood ashes employed in\nit, was neglected; dirty shirts and sheets were too common to be\ncomplained of: the men were obliged to cook their own dinners; children\nwere grouped together by scores under the care of some one contented or\npaid to stay at home. Then came the general confessions, which occupied\nsome days; then one day for the communion of the male and another for\nthat of the female penitents; lastly, the procession of the cross, which\nwas to be set up as a perpetual memorial of the mission, and a mean of\nrecalling to every one the good resolutions he had then made.\n\nAn ill-carved crucifix, larger than life, borne on the shoulders of the\ndevout, was followed by the missionaries and people singing cantiques,\nand was finally placed on the terrace near the great door of the\ncathedral, to which it gives the appearance of a place of public\nexecution.\n\nI venerate the images of Christ and his saints; they are, as St. Austin\ncalls them, the books of the illiterate, and they speak to the heart\neven of those who can read. But they should be so made and so placed as\nto inspire, not terror, but sentiments of peace, hope, and gratitude.\n\nThe missionaries turned many from the evil of their ways: some sums of\nmoney were deposited in their hands to be by them restored to those who\nhad been robbed or defrauded of them; these sums, so unexpectedly\nrecovered, were in general given to the poor. I have read an account of\nthe conduct of these missionaries to the galeriens at Toulon, which was\nvery interesting and edifying. On leaving Avignon they were accompanied\nfor several miles by the people, who, by way of taking leave, tore the\ncassock off the back of the chief missionary and divided it into shreds,\nthat all or as many as possible of their zealous admirers might have a\nrelic. In this _procede_ there was a little too much of the _fougue du\nmidi_,[61] and the missionary by no means liked the process of popular\ncanonization. How long the good effects of the mission may last is\ndoubtful. It seems as if it were necessary that some strong excitement\nshould exist in order that religion should be present to the mind. Holy\nmen create this excitement to themselves by the aid of divine grace, and\nby prayer, a powerful mode of self-persuasion: for the multitude, this\nexcitement must be created for them. I was assured by a very worthy and\nexperienced cure, who remained in France during the whole of the\nrevolution, that, in the reign of terror, when the churches were shut\nup, many followed the clergy into caverns and hiding-places, who\nafterwards could not be persuaded to go to church.\n\nI formed an acquaintance with an old gentleman of eighty-five years of\nage, who had served in the seven years war: he had been present at the\naffair of St. Cas. Two brothers, of a Lincolnshire family, every member\nof which I have always esteemed as a friend, were officers in the\nregiments landed on this occasion. I remember when a boy to have heard\none of them relate how his brother called to him, when they were both\ndriven back into the sea, to share a bottle of wine which chance had\nsupplied. They were waiting for the boat to take them to their ship:\nthere was no cork-screw; he broke off the neck of the bottle with his\nsword. It was pleasant to me, at such a distance of time and place, to\nmeet with one whom this trifling anecdote could amuse. He spoke with\nrespect, as does all the world, of English valour, but said, no one\ncould conceive why they disembarked their troops on the coast, as it was\nutterly impossible for them to penetrate ten miles into the country: in\nthis he was in accord with the English public at that time. He is dead;\nthe brothers are dead: very few survive, who fought in the war concluded\nby the peace of Paris, in 1763.\n\nI was also acquainted with two young men of celebrated names, officers\nof a regiment in garrison at Avignon. One of them was grand nephew of\nthat archbishop of Marseilles, whose conduct, when the plague raged in\nthat city, in the year 1720, has ever been spoken of with justly-merited\neulogium; the other was grandson of the author of the \"Esprit des Lois.\"\nThis latter made me much ashamed, not _of_ my country, she is too great\nfor that; but _for_ my country. Talking of military discipline, he\nsaid, \"Vos soldats sont des braves gens,[62] but you vippe dem; you\nvippe dem.\" I was, as I have said, ashamed, and knew not what to answer,\nbut that such punishments were not so frequent since certain debates in\nthe Parliament. \"Den you vippe dem,\" and forgetting the word\n_sometimes_, \"quelquefois,\" twirling his hand as if brandishing a\ncat-o-nine tails; then added with a serious look, \"quelquefois; c'est\ntrop.\"[63] Sir Francis Burdett's endeavour to place the representation\nof the people in the Commons House on a rational basis, will meet with\nthe fate of my proposal to establish the Catholic religion in Ireland;\nbut his efforts to rescue the soldier from a cruel and degrading\npunishment deserve the thanks of every friend of mankind. He has\nrelieved human nature from more suffering than a legislator who should\nabolish the _question_; for there are, or were, more soldiers flogged\nthan, in any equal time, state-prisoners tortured. If the sentiment of\nreproach and contempt with which young Montesquieu spoke of our military\npunishments,--a sentiment in which he is joined by every man of sense\nand honour throughout Europe,--may contribute to abolish the odious\npractice, he too may share in the praise of the \"legislateur du genre\nhumain.\"[64] The great object of all legislation is to prevent evil,\ninjustice, and misery. Alas! Alas! How much does it itself inflict!\n\nAn election of a deputy to the chamber was held while I was at Avignon.\nOf this election I can give but a negative account. There was no ringing\nof bells; no flags displayed; no parading the streets by day-light or\ntorch-light; no canvassing; no kissing the women; no rioting; no\ndrunkenness. The town was as quiet as if no election had been going on.\nThe number of electors for the department was about six hundred. What\ninfluenced their votes I cannot say; certainly not those glorious\nconcomitants of an English election in all towns large enough to enjoy\nthem,--festive noise and indecent tumult.\n\nIn the spring of the year 1820, my elder son set off for England, which\nwas to him an unknown land, as he had been immured in college from his\nthirteenth year, and with which he was anxious to become acquainted. At\nhis departure, he asked and received on his bended knee the blessing of\nhis parents. This may seem strange to some; yet Sir Thomas More, when\nChancellor of England, began the day by kneeling at the bed-side of his\naged father, to implore, through him, the blessing of God, and then went\nand served at mass in his own chapel. Sir Thomas More was a wise and\namiable man, whose life and death are beyond all praise. The act of\nsubmission above-mentioned might, however, for reasons that may easily\nbe divined, be more laudable in a young man of nineteen, than in a Lord\nHigh Chancellor of England. Besides other considerations, the one acted\nin conformity, the other in contradiction, to the spirit of his age.\n\nFrom Lyons, where he passed two days, Kenelm took the road to Paris by\nMoulins, in order to see a different country from that by which he had\ncome to Avignon. He passed five days in Paris, three of which he\ndedicated to the Museum of the Louvre, which he now saw with advantage,\nderived from the progress he had made in drawing. He spent ten days in\nLondon. A friend who had known him two years before in Paris,\ngood-naturedly bore testimony to the improvement which two years had\nproduced: \"You were then a great boy; you are now a fine young fellow.\"\nHe passed also ten days, at Bath, at the house of his mother's sister.\n\nI know not whether it may have been remarked that, in my chapter of\nParis, I have said not a word of the theatres. The fact is, we never\nonce were present at any of them. The opinion of Catholics as to the\nlawfulness of attending the theatrical representations of the present\nday, is by no means uniform. The English Catholic clergy in general\nadvise to abstain from them: the pious and excellent priest at Paris, to\nwhose counsels Kenelm owed so much, gave the same injunction. Our kind\nand prudent director at Avignon rather requested than required us to\nabstain from attending the theatre at that place. \"It is no great loss,\nconsidering the merit of the performance: when you shall be in Italy, I\ngive you up to my successor.\"\n\nKenelm, on this journey, made some stay in Paris, London, and Bath,\nwithout going to a theatre. This must be considered as no slight\nsacrifice for a young man of nineteen; master, for the time, of his own\nactions; solicited by his curiosity and by the invitations of friends,\nwho regarded the stage as a source of innocent amusement, and even of\ninstruction.\n\nFollowing the lights, such as they were, of my own common sense, I had\noccasionally, even after becoming a Catholic, assisted at theatrical\nrepresentations both in Bath and London, when the inducement was in\naccord with good taste and good morals. I could see no harm in allowing\nthose \"purifiers of the affections,\" terror and pity, to be administered\nby those masters of the scenic art, Kemble and Siddons. There were\nothers, second to these, but of great merit, whom I saw with pleasure:\namongst them Cooke, when he was sober; Elliston, at all times. Arrived\nin France, I refrained from going to the theatre as the safer line of\nconduct, seeing I was now no longer alone. Besides, I was told that\ncomedians, so they call all actors, were in a state of excommunication;\nthat they could not accomplish the sacrament of penance without\npromising to renounce their profession; and that if they died comedians,\ntheir right to Christian burial was at least disputable.\n\nI cited the example of the capital of the Christian world. \"In Rome\nitself there are theatres.\" \"The holy Father is under the necessity of\npermitting, as sovereign, what, as head of the church, he condemns.\"\nThis reminded me of Sir Jonathan Trelawney, sometime Bishop of\nWinchester, who was much given, according to the custom of his time, to\nprofane cursing and swearing--a custom which he adopted perhaps to show\nthat he was no puritan, as men neglected days of fasting and abstinence\nto prove that they were no papists. This reverend prelate being reproved\nfor this mal-practice, declared that he swore as Sir Jonathan Trelawney,\nnot as Bishop of Winchester. He was asked how he would _hereafter_ make\na distinction in his personal identity, or divide what Sir Kenelm Digby\ncalls \"a man's numerical self;\"--a phrase which my friend Sir ---- was\nso good as to translate for me into \"number one.\"\n\nIn fact, the argument drawn from the double character of the Pope to\njustify the permission of what was bad in itself, excited my\nindignation. \"The Pope,\" said I, \"is no hypocrite.\" \"True: the Pope is\nno hypocrite; but sovereigns are in some cases obliged to permit evils\nwhich they palliate and diminish by superintendence and regulation.\" I\nunderstood the allusion, but felt a strong repugnance to class actors,\nmany of them persons of exemplary morals, and none of them necessarily\notherwise, with those unfortunate outcasts, so well watched in France\nand Italy, and so piously allowed to roam at large in London: neither\ncould I be all at once persuaded that stage-plays were of the nature of\na violation of one of the ten commandments. I alleged the example of\nall, or almost all the Catholic sovereigns of Europe, who assisted at\nthem without scruple. I was answered, that the example of sovereigns\ncould not justify what was wrong in itself. The great Bossuet was\nquoted, who replied to Louis XIV., by whom his opinion was asked on the\nlawfulness of stage plays which the monarch himself frequented, \"Sire,\nil y a de grands exemples pour, et de grandes autorites contre.\"[65]\n\n\"Reste a savoir,\" said I to myself, with the disputant at Nismes. The\nquestion did not press: we abstained from plays in France. I resolved,\nif possible, to reconcile these contradictions in Italy.\n\nIn Italy I was instructed, that there exists no excommunication of\nactors by the universal church, but only by the decrees of some\nparticular dioceses, in remote ages, when the scenic art was reputed\ninfamous on account of the representations, then almost always contrary\nto good morals: that they who exercise the profession of actors are\nguilty of great sin, if they exhibit on the stage any thing shameful or\nobscene, but not otherwise: that there exist indeed sentences of the\nholy see and of general councils against scenic representations, but\nthat they refer always to such as may be indecent and contrary to sound\nmorality: that the Fathers condemn the theatres of their time, not only\nbecause of the indecencies there represented, but also because, as the\npagans acted plays in honour of their false gods, the Christians could\nnot assist at them without the stain of idolatry: that a decent play\ncannot be called _absolutely_ a proximate occasion of sin, but may\nbecome such _relatively_ to certain individuals on account of their\npersonal fragility; and that such, admonished by their own experience,\nare bound to fly a danger which, though it may be _remote_ to others, is\nto them _proximate_: finally, that there cannot be any positive judgment\nnor any fixed or constant rule respecting theatres; since the lawfulness\nor unlawfulness of them may vary at every moment, according as scenic\nrepresentations are agreeable or repugnant to good morals.\n\nPriests go to plays in Italy, generally retiring before the ballet. I\nhave seen a cardinal at a private theatre: that it was a private\ntheatre, was a circumstance of some importance in point of decorum, but\nof none in point of morality, concerning which it is fair to presume\nthat his eminence entertained no doubt or scruple.\n\nKenelm, however, abstained all his life from going to the theatre: in\nthis he acted according to the information which his conscience had\nreceived. Conscience is not the rule of action: the rule is THE LAW\ndivine or human; conscience is the measure which each individual\napplies, first to the rule, then to his own actions. He who does a bad\naction, thinking it a good one, is not excused; it is his duty to inform\nhis conscience: he who abstains from that which is innocent because he\nthinks it wrong, has merit in conforming his actions to his sense of\nduty, as well as he who, from a motive of duty, performs an action in\nitself indifferent.\n\nKenelm proceeded from Bath to the country-house of his mother's father\nin Somersetshire, where he passed three or four months, making short\nexcursions and visits in the neighbourhood. Towards the end of September\nhe returned to Bath, his native place, visited Bristol and the shores of\nthe Severn. He then went through the midland counties into Lincolnshire,\nwhere his family, originally from Yorkshire, had been settled for four\ngenerations. Here visits and business detained him some time: he\nreturned to London: the theatres were again opened; but not for him.\n\nDuring his former stay in London he had received the sacrament of\nconfirmation on the feast of Pentecost: he wrote to me, that that day\nhad been the happiest of his life. On this occasion he took the name of\nAloysius or St. Lewis of Gonzaga, whom a conformity of character seems\nto have induced him to regard with peculiar sympathy. Is it fanaticism\nor imbecility to hope and believe, as I sincerely believe, that these\ntwo happy souls, after their short trial, now enjoy the society and\nconverse of each other in a state of unchangeable felicity?\n\nAfter a short visit in the neighbourhood of Southampton, Kenelm once\nmore embarked at that port and returned to France. He was desirous of\nfollowing a route, not unusual with English tourists, by Orleans,\nBordeaux, and the line of the Garonne, to Avignon; but the season was\ntoo late: in truth he complained that he suffered from cold in his\njourney from Paris. His family had the satisfaction of receiving him\nagain on the eleventh of November.\n\nThe judgment formed of him by those who became acquainted with him\nduring his stay in England, may be known by the following extract from a\nletter written by his mother within a short time after his death, that\nis, within a twelvemonth after his return to France.\n\n\"Your son was perfect, as far as human nature can be so: so much\nself-denial, tenderness to the feelings of others, such strict\nattention to his religious duties, whatever pleasures might be offered\nhim, I never met with in any character; and in so young a man, at a\ndistance from all who had a right to control him, it was most\nextraordinary, and bespoke a mind whose every feeling was governed by\nreligion. Could you have heard the general regret for his loss, and the\nremarks made on his conduct and manners by all who knew him, you would\nhave been gratified; but you have a higher source of comfort,\" &c.\n\nI will cite another testimony; that of the priest who was his director\nduring his visit to his native land:--\"I was much affected by the news\nof the death of the amiable Henry Kenelm; and yet I cannot but regard it\nas a great mercy in Almighty God to snatch him in his innocence from the\nhorrid corruptions and impieties of the world. Now he is gone, it is not\nunlawful for me to say that I thought him one of the most innocent,\nwatchful, and mortified souls I had ever met with of his age.\"\n\nOn the morrow of his return he began a drawing of an infant Jesus from\nan engraving of a picture by Raphael in the Palazzo Pitti: it was to be\nfinished in the French style, with much exactness and labour. He said,\n\"the infant shall be ready for his birth-day;\" and in effect he\nconcluded his work on Christmas eve. I saw the features of this infant\nJesus with an astonishment, the motive of which I explained to Kenelm;\nit is not yet time to reveal it to the reader.\n\nThis winter Kenelm took lessons in fencing, and, after having acquired\nsome skill in the noble science of defence, he engaged a sous-officier\nto come daily to the house to teach him the manual exercise. He had\nlearned dancing in his college, where masters attended for that purpose.\nDuring his first winter at Avignon he refused to take dancing lessons,\nfrom scruples suggested to him by a devout person, who also endeavoured\nto engage me to forbid my children to learn to dance, supporting his\nopinion of its unlawfulness by the usual topics. I replied, \"I should be\nashamed for my children, if I thought they could not dance without\nfinding in it a proximate occasion of sin: the thing is innocent in\nitself; let those who find it, or make it otherwise, avoid it.\" In his\nsecond winter Kenelm surmounted the scruples of our devout friend, and\nresumed his dancing lessons, and now continued them, not so much out of\na desire to perfect himself, as for the sake of joining in the amusement\nof the family party.\n\nThe summer which Kenelm passed in England had been excessively hot in\nthe south of France. I was in the habit of observing my thermometer at\nmidnight, and, during July and August, usually found it, at that hour,\nat 84 Fahrenheit. The autumn was very mild: we were to give a ball on\nnew year's day, and there was no ice in the town, as the master of the\ncafe, who was to furnish ice creams, announced to me in a tone of due\ndespondency. He proposed to send a cart to Mont Ventoo, a lofty and\nremarkable mountain fifteen miles off, where there was ice at all times;\nthis carriage would cost thirty francs. I asked him if he would bear a\npart of the expense, as the ice would be of use to him for his other\ncustomers. He said, if it should freeze, his share of the load would\nbecome useless; moreover that, if there should be ice of the thickness\nof a ten-sous piece, that would be enough for my purpose. That very\nnight, the last of the year 1820, a frost set in, so severe, that almost\nall the olive-trees of Provence and of the east of Languedoc were\ndestroyed to the root. The preceding open weather had sustained the sap;\nso that this sudden and violent check was fatal. It was a great\ncalamity: the government came in aid of the more indigent of the\nsufferers; but four years must pass ere the olive-trees could be in\nfull bearing as before.\n\nBesides the \"fatness\" of the olive, they reckon in this country four\nother _recoltes_ or harvests: the hay of the artificial grasses, of\nwhich lucerne is the chief; with this hay they fatten cattle and make a\ngreat deal of manure: indeed I saw at Avignon a symptom of covetousness\nof dung, much to the credit of their agricultural management; those who\nsweep the streets bring straw, cut into little bits about three inches\nlong, which they throw into the kennels and dirty puddles to suck up the\nfertilizing moisture. Manure must be in great demand, and an article of\nthe first necessity in a country, where, besides extensive gardens, they\nintercule, after the wheat, reaped usually at the end of June, a crop of\nharicots or French beans,--a standing dish, during the winter, at all\ntables. I remembered at how high a price I had formerly bought a few of\nthese beans for seed, that I might have this vegetable, young and green,\nas a side-dish or in pickle: yet these _haricots secs_, or the dried\ngrain of the French bean, is the cheapest food at Avignon, cheaper even\nthan bread; and it was without cause that I was alarmed at my own\nextravagance, when I saw them spread in such abundance on the table in\nmy kitchen. _Gar__rence_, or madder, is another _recolte_, and a source\nof great wealth. Add to these harvests, their wine, which, by the help\nof the climate and good manipulation, is, in my opinion, the best in the\nworld, except perhaps that of Xeres and Madeira. Melons and _pastecs_,\nor water-melons, are here delicious, and the food of the common people.\nBread is excellent, light, white, and nutritious; many degrees whiter\nthan that which I made of my own wheat in England, though not so white\nnor so quickly dry and tasteless as the adulterated bread of London.\n\nI consider French agriculture, as far as I was able to observe it in the\nsouth, to be in a flourishing condition. They have not the grand\ncultivation: the subdivision of property and the nature of the products\nforbid it. They have no \"expensive plans For deluging their\ndripping-pans.\" They would regard almost as thrown away, a rich plot of\nland given up to the fattening sheep and bullocks. In the southern\nmoiety of France, indeed, they have no choice: there are water meadows,\nwhere irrigation is possible, but no pastures. Their cattle are fed on\nthe mountains and hills and poorest lands, during summer, and brought\nhome in winter.\n\nThe end of agriculture is to obtain the greatest value of produce from\nland at the least expense, and that for ever; and in this end the\nFrench, the spirit of calculation coming in aid of their soil and\nclimate, succeed in a great degree. The chattels (the word is French),\nthe stock, both live and dead, belongs to the proprietor; he\nsuperintends; the land is not worse managed on that account. Indeed, as\nPythagoras or Plato said, that states would never be well governed, till\nphilosophers were kings or kings were philosophers; so it may be said,\nthat land will never be well cultivated, till proprietors shall be\nfarmers or farmers shall be proprietors: their interests are opposite,\nand not to be reconciled by leases or conditions of obligation; one\ndesires immediate, the other continued, profit: but the interest that a\nFrench proprietor has in his share of the produce, is not great enough\nto induce him to diminish his capital by deteriorating the land, which\nthe tenant always will do if he can: even the _materiel_ of the farm, no\nunimportant part of its value, is better cared for by the landlord than\nby a tenant. In short, France, in the southern part of it, is rapidly\nadvancing towards garden culture, the perfection of all cultivation;\nsince the more a farm is cultivated like a garden, the more will the\nmanagement of it be applauded, and the greater will be its produce in\nproportion to its extent. The spade and hoe are very much used in\nfields, especially where, as is often the case, these fields are\ntraversed by rows of mulberry or other trees; and the vines trimmed into\nthe form of bushes, and the _garence_, and _haricots_, and lucerne in\nrows and drills, and the slight fences, occupying the least possible\nspace, and set rather as limits than as guards, give, to a rich tract,\nas much of the appearance as it really has of the nature of a garden.\n\nThe silk-worm, though silk is a most valuable _recolte_ of this country,\nhas no connexion with agriculture, except that this worm feeds on the\nleaves of the mulberry tree. These leaves are plucked as soon as they\nhave attained their full spread, and before they are at all dried or\neven hardened by the sun. While nature is preparing the food of the\nsilk-worm, art is forcing into existence the worm itself. The eggs are\nhatched by artificial warmth, and, from the time that the worm can eat\ntill it becomes a cocon, this savoury food is administered. The mulberry\nis of the white sort; but the _fruit_ is hardly known to the Avignonais;\nit is of course destroyed by plucking off the leaves. I surprised my\nfriends by telling them I had eaten excellent black mulberries in\nEngland, and, as is usual in such cases, they gave no credence to my\nword. These trees look very miserable without leaves under so fine a\nsky: by the end of summer a second crop of leaves is plucked off, and\ngiven to cattle.\n\nIt was pleasing to me, as carrying memory back into former ages, to see\nthe threshing-floors of the Avignonais: they are on the outside of the\nbuilding that serves for the granary: the sheaves are laid in a circle,\nin the centre of which stands a man who drives two or more horses round,\nover the ears of corn: another man stands without the circle to correct\nany irregularities in the work. The moral meaning of the command, not to\nmuzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn, is evident; and it is to be\nhoped that, in practice, it was interpreted according to its moral\nmeaning: otherwise the work would not have proceeded very quickly, and\nwould soon have been stopped altogether by the strangulation of the\nbeast.\n\nThey built, while I was at Avignon, a very good _abattoir_ near one of\nthe gates of the town. I saw here the process of skinning an ox: air is\nthrown in under the skin by a pair of bellows, which air is then forced\nforward by beating the inflated hide with clubs. A beast, whose turn it\nwas to be killed next, was standing by with his nose fastened to a ring\nin the floor. How far did his intelligence enable him to presage the\nfate that awaited him?\n\nFrench agriculture has made rapid strides within twenty years: they\nprocure and disperse improved machinery: in the breed of their sheep\nthey pay attention to the quality of the fleece. They call the English\ntheir masters in the science of agriculture, but entertain confidence, I\nhope well-founded, of soon equalling those masters.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[61] The impetuosity of the south.\n\n[62] Your soldiers are brave people, but you whip them.\n\n[63] Sometimes--that is too much.\n\n[64] Legislator of the human race.\n\n[65] Sire, there are great examples _for_, and great authorities\n_against_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XV.\n\n\nThere was a very great difference in the ages of my elder and younger\nchildren; it was impossible for me to suit my plan to them all: for the\nsake of the younger it would have been advisable to stay some time\nlonger in France; but for the advantage of the elder I thought it right\nto hasten my journey to Italy. I fixed the time of my departure from\nAvignon for the month of October following, 1821.\n\nNo master of the Italian language was here to be found. Kenelm soon\nacquired the use of it, as far as books, without conversation, could\nteach him; and, in the evenings of the spring and summer, after our\npromenade, gave lessons to his sisters and brother, whom he required to\nprepare themselves in the morning: he also gave them lectures in\ngeography. In this employment he gratified his kind affections, and\nderived pleasure from the performance of what he imposed on himself as a\nduty.\n\nIn truth his whole life seemed to be regulated by a sense of duty: he\nendeavoured to please others from a principle of benevolence: in\nspeaking of others he was careful to avoid all censure or rash judgment,\nall contemptuous or angry expressions; he followed after that charity,\nwhich \"beareth all things, hopeth all things;\" it was evident that,\nwithout excluding the innocent and laudable motives of action, he\nendeavoured to sanctify all he did by referring it to the glory of the\nAuthor of all good. His mind had been cultivated as far as his years and\nopportunities had allowed. The love of God had supplied to him the\nprinciple of true sensibility, and his judgment of moral objects was\ncorrect and delicate. His reading had been chiefly of French literature\nand of history. In England he had passed much of his time in society and\nother engagements, and he had not had leisure for reading: he regretted\nthat he could not stay another twelvemonth there for the purpose of\ngoing through a course of English literature.\n\nI had always encouraged him to discuss with me whatever questions arose,\nto enter into argument and try the ground of his opinions: in criticism,\nin politics, in religion even, he had followed this method. I held it\nuseful thus to call forth and exercise his powers; I wished to establish\nhis judgment on a surer basis than that which can be laid by authority\nalone; a basis so liable to be shaken, so likely to be removed by an\nintercourse with the world, which surprises, enchants, and often fatally\ndeceives those who are unprepared for it.\n\nI was conversing one day with him and his brother on the subject of the\nmassacre at Thessalonica, in the reign of the emperor Theodosius,--and\nof the father who, being arrested with his two sons going out of the\namphitheatre, entreated the soldiers, who were about to put them both to\ndeath, at least to spare him one of them; the soldiers consented,\nleaving the choice to the father: he, in an agony of grief, ran from one\nson to the other, unable to resign either of them: the soldiers,\nbecoming impatient, at length slew them both.\n\nKenelm's remark was, \"the father was more happy afterwards than he would\nhave been had he decided. If he had saved one son, he would have\ncontinually reproached himself, during the rest of his life, with the\ndeath of the other.\"\n\nWithin a few short months I was myself to witness the death of one son,\nand to pass some weeks in dreadful suspense as to the fate of the son\nthat remained to me. The Father of Mercies inflicted not on me the\nhorrible necessity of choosing between them. He spared one, to alleviate\nand repair the loss of him whom he took to himself.\n\nIf I seem to any to have dwelt too long on the praise of Kenelm, let\nthis be allowed to the remembrance of his kind, confiding, and grateful\naffection to me, his gentle and amiable manners towards the rest of his\nfamily, the well-grounded hope of virtuous and meritorious conduct in\nhis passage through life. All this is now only in remembrance; but \"the\nremembrance is sweet.\"\n\nI had said to Kenelm on his return from England, \"You have behaved in\nsuch a manner during the time that you have been your own master, that I\nmay now trust that your character and principles are fixed and\nestablished: you have acquired an entire right to my confidence.\"\n\nThe trial of the ground of this confidence was short, and, towards the\nend, most painful; but it was conclusive and satisfactory.\n\nIn the spring of 1821, arrived the news of the beginning and end of what\nwas called for a time the revolution of Piedmont, and of the\ninsurrection of the garrison of Alexandria.\n\nThe difficulty of obtaining protection or employment in diplomacy, the\ncareer to which, in his own purpose, he had destined himself, and to\nwhich he had in some degree directed his studies, offered itself at this\ntime so forcibly to the mind of Kenelm, that he inclined to enter into\nthe military profession. He said, \"The King of Sardinia must, at this\ntime, want soldiers. I will go to him at Nice: I shall see you all again\nin your way to Italy.\" He added, \"I cannot choose the French service, as\nI should run the risk of being employed against my own country: a great\nvariety of circumstances shows that the English service must be at least\n_unpleasant_ to a catholic: there remain only Austria and Sardinia.\" On\ninquiry, however, we found that no commission was granted in the army of\nthis latter power, unless to those who had been educated in the military\nacademy, or who had served four years in the ranks as private soldiers.\nKenelm retained the purpose of making inquiries concerning the Austrian\nservice when he should arrive in Italy. Austria, though now removed to a\ndistance from England by the cession of the Low Countries, had been for\nmore than a century its almost constant ally. I was not sorry that\ninquiries, and any measures to be adopted in consequence, were delayed\nfor some time, and advised that the interval should be employed in\nreflecting how far the military profession might suit a character of\ngreat vivacity indeed, but thoughtful and given to literary pursuits. I\ncould account for this sudden ebullition of Kenelm's warlike ardour,\nonly by the delight which he took in reading the \"Victoires et\nConquetes,\" which publication began about this time; and by his\nintercourse with some of the officers in garrison. He asserted too that\nthe trade of a soldier is the most independent of any, and brought in\ndefence of his assertion some very specious arguments. His ardour,\nthough restrained, was by no means extinguished: he was steady to his\npurpose, and never relinquished it.\n\nIn the month of July a fair is held at Beaucaire, on the Rhone, a small\ntown twelve miles from Avignon, opposite Tarrascon. This is one of the\nfew fairs in Europe that are still the scene of great commercial\noperations; commis, travellers, and the post office are rapidly causing\nthe disparition of less convenient institutions. To Beaucaire, however,\nas yet, resort merchants from Germany, Italy, and Spain; and to\nBeaucaire also resort the idle and curious of the district for many\nleagues around. The Avignonais wondered that we could pass two summers\nwithout visiting it; and, as I could now no longer say \"I will go next\nyear,\" I was obliged to avow that my real reason for absenting myself\nfrom a scene which they thought so interesting, was my unwillingness to\nsubject any of the females of my family to the inconvenience of\nfinding, or, what would have been worse, not finding beds in so crowded\na town; and to stay all night was indispensable, as the finest sight of\nall was the illumination of the streets of booths erected as a\nsupplement to the insufficient buildings of the town. One friend\nproposed to me his example. He had left Avignon, with ladies in company\nof course, three hours before sunset; arrived at Beaucaire in time to\nlead his ladies about, both by owls-light and lamp-light; supped in a\nroom which, he allowed, had not the recommendation of being either\nretired, or cleanly, or free from the fumes of tobacco; and brought his\nladies home again at three in the morning.\n\n Men are but children of a larger growth,\n\nsaid some one without suspecting that he was launching any thing but a\nsarcasm: it is however a profound reflection. Children must be amused\nbecause they cannot know any thing of the world into which they are\nabout to enter; and men must be amused on account of their unwillingness\nto think of a future state of existence. The childish mortal is however\nless silly than the manly mortal immortal.\n\nI recommended to my sons to visit Arles, taking Beaucaire in their way\nat the time of the fair, at which they might stay as long as they\npleased, and no longer. They got into a boat early in the morning, and\ndescended the Rhone as far as Tarrascon; passed four hours, including\nrepast and repose, at the fair; then again took to their boat, which\nconveyed them to the ancient and once important city of Arles. From\nAvignon to Tarrascon they found the banks of the Rhone varied and\npicturesque: lower down, the river displays a great spread of water, but\nits shores are flat. They slept at Arles, viewed its ancient monuments,\nobelisk, amphitheatre, sarcophagi, and walked to St. Remy. In the\nevening of the next day they returned home, and regaled us with a\npleasant account of their \"voyage par mer et par terre.\"[66] They were\nparticularly pleased with St. Remy, and we resolved on a family party to\nthat place: the excursion was, however, deferred for a month, on account\nof a visit to a friend's campagne or country house.\n\nSt. Remy is four leagues from Avignon: at the end of the second mile, we\ncrossed by a ferry the Durance, a mighty Alpine torrent. I had before\nobserved that its waters are colder and more turbid than those of the\nRhone at the point of their confluence. The Rhone deposits in the Leman\nLake a part of the soil it brings with it in its course through the\nValais. The Durance is so impetuous, that its bridge on the road to\nMarseilles is almost always insecure. A company of Dutchmen undertook to\nconfine this river to a certain bed by embanking, on condition of\nreceiving all the land they should recover: but though they could, no\ndoubt, deal very well with placid and stagnant canals, they found the\nDurance so impatient of dykes, as the Araxes was indignant at a bridge,\nthat they abandoned the enterprise.\n\nMy sons, who were our stewards and ciceroni, had ordered a basket of\nprovisions to be brought by the carriage, that we might dine _au frais_\nnear the monuments, the objects of our visit. We took cafe au lait,\nhowever, on arriving at the village, supplying the place of milk by\nbeating the yolks of fresh eggs into a liquid foam here called _lait de\npoule_, and well known as a substitute for an article, the want of which\nis not much felt by those who are used to be without it. We had no\nbutter: beurre frais de Lyon is sent down the Rhone to Avignon, and\nsometimes contains maggots. I paid ten sous a day for a small quantity\nof beurre du jour made on purpose for our family breakfast,--the only\ndemand for it in all the town.\n\nThe want of butter, and the scarcity of our four pleasant early fruits,\ngooseberries, currants, raspberries, and strawberries, a rare and\nshort-lived luxury in the south of France,--are great privations; and\nthis must be added to the inconveniences of a hot climate. Even cherries\nquickly become uneatable, breeding worms within them as soon as ripe.\n\nWe walked to the Mausoleum and triumphal arch at half a league's\ndistance. They are situate near the side of the road now leading from\nNismes to Marseilles, which probably, at the time even of the erection\nof these monuments, led from one to the other of these ancient cities.\nWe had risen by a very slight ascent to a great height, and now enjoyed\na fine prospect all around, except that, for about one fourth of the\nhorizon, the view was bounded by a range of rocks of most curious and\nfantastic forms. Not far from the foot of this range, and very near to\neach other, are placed the arch and Mausoleum. The arch itself and all\nbelow it, is still perfect; but all above it has been pulled down and\ncarried away: the vault of the arch is highly ornamented. The Mausoleum\nis a most elegant structure. If I say that it resembles a detached\ncampanile of a church of Grecian architecture, it is more for the sake\nof indicating its form, than from having seen any thing in that kind\nresembling or equal to it. On a lofty basement rises a square building\nsurmounted by a circular colonnade, of the Corinthian order, supporting\na dome or cupola. At the four corners of the square building are\nCorinthian pillars; on each side, the wall is pierced by an arch, and,\non the frieze above, is the inscription\n\n Sex. M. Julii C. F. parentibus suis.\n\nIn the centre under the cupola stand two statues: there is no door or\nopening below.\n\nMy sons amused themselves with taking drawings of the objects before\nthem. The air, notwithstanding the season of the year, was cool and\nfresh at the elevation at which we were placed; and we took our dinner\nunder the arch, having brought from the cafe of St. Remy some beer,\nwhich, in the spirit of contradiction, is much liked in this country of\nthe vine. I thought it vile stuff, and preferred our wine from Avignon:\nthose of my children who had not tasted or forgotten the taste of\nhome-brewed, thought it a luxury: it is rather dearer than wine, being,\nvery justly, equally taxed. It is called _biere de Mars_;--a proof that\nthe right season is known for \"corrupting barley into a certain\nsimilitude of wine.\" Caesar's word _corruptum_ ought to be translated\n\"fermented,\" but it is happily ambiguous.\n\nMy servant told me that while he was waiting with the basket of\nprovisions for our coming from the village, a gentleman, whom he took\nfor English, followed by his groom, came up to the monuments, walked his\nhorse once quietly round them, looked at him, Antoine, without saying a\nword, and then rode away.\n\nThere is not a single house near these edifices except a Maison des\nFous, an extensive establishment, and celebrated for good management. I\nvisited a house of this sort at Avignon, where the patients seemed to\nhave every comfort their situation permitted. Several of them were\namusing themselves in the large court: we passed by them in going out.\nOne of them addressed himself to the gentleman who accompanied me: \"Sir,\nI entreat you to interest yourself for me; it is horrible for me to live\namongst these unhappy mad people. You see I am not mad; I am placed here\nby my relations that they may keep possession of a little estate that\nbelongs to me.\" My friend asked, \"Why do you not speak to the\nadministrators?\"--\"I have done so often, but all to no purpose; _ce sont\ndes ours_.\"[67] I do not know the end of the affair.\n\nWe returned in the cool of the evening. On repassing the ferry, I did\nnot get into the carriage again, but walked with my sons to the town.\nThe carriage had some difficulty in passing the gate, owing to a piece\nof cheese and some other remains of our dinner, which the gate-keeper\nperceived at the bottom of the basket. Antoine laughed at him: \"C'est\nmon souper:[68]\" but it was no laughing matter; it was a question of the\ndroits reunis. The coachman explained that the provisions had been taken\nout of the town in the morning, and the carriage passed on.\n\nWe were much pleased with our excursion, and I promised my family to\ntake them to Nismes before we should set off for Italy; but we had found\nthe day, 18th of August, too hot, and determined to wait till the\nweather should be somewhat cooler.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[66] Voyage by sea and land.\n\n[67] They are bears.\n\n[68] It is my supper.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVI.\n\n\nSaturday, the twenty-fifth of August, the fete of the king was\ncelebrated with sports and rejoicings. A joute d'eau was held on the\nRhone; that is to say--two boats row as fast as possible in opposite\ndirections bearing each of them a man, standing on the prow, armed with\na long pole. At the moment that the boats pass by each other, each of\nthe two men strives to push the other with his pole into the water. If\nboth parties fail, the assistants are, for that time, disappointed; if\none of the two tumbles in, they laugh and are delighted. Sometimes it\nhappens, from the unsteadiness of their position and the effort which\neach makes to overturn the other, that both fall in, and, in that case,\nthe joy of the standers and sitters-by is increased, as Malthus would\nsay, not in an arithmetical, but in a geometrical proportion: it is not\nmerely doubled; it is augmented a hundred-fold. Flags, and bells, and\nmusic, and the presence of the authorities and of a vast concourse of\nspectators, leave not the least doubt in the mind of any one but that\nhe has been well amused. In the evening there was a ball at the\nprefecture.\n\nBeing somewhat indisposed, I did not stir out on this day. Kenelm had\nfor some time past complained of languor and want of appetite, which he\nattributed to the heat of the summer. At St. Remy he had been in\nexcellent spirits, passing on before us to hinder us from seeing the\nmonuments till arrived at the right point of view; and, on the fete of\nSt. Louis, he had been gay with the gay. No symptom of illness appeared\ntill the following evening at the house of the general commanding the\ndepartment; he then complained to me of a sensation of cold. I desired\nhim to remove from the open window; he soon felt himself better, and\njoined in the dance with which the party concluded. This visit is to be\nremarked as the last he made.\n\nDuring the three following days he was tolerably well, and, on the\nalternate days, took his bath in the Rhone, as it had been his custom to\ndo during the summer, in a retired place at a small distance from the\ntown. While bathing the last time, he cried out to his brother, \"My\npulse is gone.\" A sensation of cold had induced him to feel his pulse,\nand he was somewhat alarmed at this symptom of its intermission. He\nappeared to wish to make light of it when he came home, but it must be\nsupposed that his own feelings made him apprehensive of illness.\nAfterwards it became evident that the predisposition to the fever, of\nwhich the chilliness three evenings before had been a symptom, had again\nmanifested itself by this intermission of the pulse.\n\nHe now reposed in me a confidence, the purport of which ought perhaps to\nbe numbered among the symptoms of the coming malady, though I was as yet\nunable to account for it in this way. He said his scruples, such as he\nhad combated and surmounted three years before, had returned and had\ndistressed him of late, beginning from a time to which he referred;\nsince which time, and, as he believed, from the efforts he had made, he\nhad suffered from a head-ache and pains in his chest and limbs. Not\naware that an illness was at hand which would account for the sensations\nof which he complained without reference to any mental uneasiness, I\nendeavoured by reproaches and praises to restore his tranquillity. \"You\nare indebted for your head-ache and other pains to allowing your mind to\ndwell on useless and groundless apprehensions. Cheerfulness, hope, and\ngaiety are the best things in the world to make the blood circulate and\ndistribute equally the animal heat. Enough has been said to you on the\nsubject of scruples, and you have admitted the reasonableness of what\nhas been said: I had hoped they were gone for ever. You are a great\ncomfort and blessing to me: be satisfied with yourself. You were at\nconfession and communion five days ago: has any thing occurred since, on\nwhich you would consult your director?\" He replied, \"No, nothing.\" This\nwe afterwards remembered with great comfort.\n\nIn the evening we went to the promenade, and walked till it was dark. I\nthen asked if he would go home and play a game at chess: he said\nplayfully, \"Yes, if you will let me rest my head on my hands, and stick\nup my shoulders.\" This posture he had been used to take sometimes in the\nstudy-room in college, where it was permitted, being neither a mortal\nsin nor false grammar: of course he had since avoided and corrected the\nhabit.\n\nThe next day the annual distribution of prizes took place at the Royal\nCollege. This scene had some attraction for Kenelm as reminding him of\nStoneyhurst. He did not stay to the end of the ceremony, complaining of\na sense of fatigue. In the evening he walked out again for the last\ntime: we stopt to listen to some music on the walk, when I observed that\nhe was excessively chill. He said to his mother, \"I hope my father will\nbe satisfied with my obedience; I have dragged myself along, cold and\ntired.\" I had urged him to walk, in the hope of diverting him. We went\nhome; there was no question of chess; he retired early to rest.\n\nThe day following, the last of the month of August, he appeared to be\nwell, and recovered from all sense of fatigue: he announced his\nintention of bathing in the Rhone as usual. I requested him to give it\nup, till it should be seen whether the chilliness, that seemed to renew\nits attacks like the fits of an ague, should again come upon him. To\nthis he assented. He took his lesson of drawing without complaint; but,\nalmost immediately after the departure of the master, was seized with a\nviolent shivering: he put on a great coat; then wrapped himself in\nblankets, lying on the sofa. The sense of cold still continuing, he took\nsoup, and afterwards tea. Towards evening he desired to have his bed\nbrought down from his chamber, and placed in the inner salon: this was\ndone. He soon broke out into a violent perspiration. Nothing more was\napprehended, than that he had taken cold at his last bathing in the\nRhone.\n\nHis malady was however the dreadful typhus, so fatal in crowded\nhospitals, in camps and prisons. To an insulated patient, well taken\ncare of, the danger is much diminished; and, but for error, and worse\nthan error, of the medical men who attended, my elder son had probably\nnot fallen a victim to it, and the younger would have been kept out of\nthe way of contagion.\n\nIn the first spring that I had passed at Avignon, my children, owing to\nthe change of climate, all of them, beginning with the youngest, at\nshort intervals from each other, fell ill of the scarlet fever. At that\ntime I had sent for a physician, who treated them with much care, and,\nas I judged from the event, with sufficient skill. In the course of\nthree years he had occasionally attended when his advice was wanted. His\npractice was among the best families of the town; he was a middle-aged\nman, married, and father of a family. He was entrusted by the\nmunicipality with the place of physician to the hospital, in which\nquality he gave lectures on anatomy, at which, so long as the dissected\nsubject was fresh, I had allowed my sons to attend.\n\nThe typhus is an universal prostration of the forces of the body; it is\nno wonder then that Kenelm felt no inclination to leave his bed. For two\ndays he remained there without seeming to himself to have any illness to\ncomplain of. M. le Docteur Roche was sent for: he pronounced the\ndisorder to be a catarrhal fever; the symptoms nothing unfavourable; the\nperspiration beneficial, but excessive; and ordered the removal of some\nof the bed-clothes. He prescribed at this time no medicine.\n\nAs this man was considered as devout, and had frequently conversed with\nus on religious subjects, Kenelm, on account of the effect which he\nsupposed his scruples to have had on his health, and assured that they\nwould not be a subject of ridicule to a pious man, thought it right to\nconfide them to him. The doctor coincided entirely with the reasoning of\nhis patient: he said, \"For some time past you have been forming\nunwholesome chyle: the bowels must be relieved; perspiration, so as not\nto weaken you, but to carry off the fever, probably caused by the cold\nbath, must be sustained: all will soon be well again.\" Kenelm had talked\nof his scruples in so edifying a manner, as to inspire the devout doctor\nwith great respect for his piety and humility: returning into the first\nsalon, he said to the mother: \"Madame, votre fils est un ange:\" she\nreplied, \"Pas encore.\"[69] This is one of those prophetic expressions\nlaunched at hazard, of which so many examples are on record.\n\nOn the fourth day of the malady, the delirium commenced. Roche was one\nof those physicians who never find out that they are in the wrong: he\nadded the epithet \"nervous,\" to his former definition of the fever, and\nordered a calming draught at night. He called three times a day: he felt\nthe pulse of his patient: if the delirium had failed to alarm him, the\npulse might have indicated the typhus, by the \"subsaltus tendonis,\" a\nweak tremulous motion in the wrist, close by the pulse. From this fourth\nday of his illness, I began to watch every night by the bed-side of\nKenelm till two o'clock in the morning: for several years past I had\nbeen accustomed not to retire to rest till after midnight; to sit up an\nhour or two longer was therefore no great fatigue. Antoine, who was\ndirected to go to bed at eight in the evening, then relieved me for the\nrest of the night. We adopted this arrangement, not foreseeing how long\nthe illness would last, though the period of the typhus is well known to\nbe thirty days. Kenelm's brother and sisters attended and served him\nduring the day, without fear of contagion, the existence of which was\npositively denied by Roche, and which indeed was not to be apprehended\nin a case of \"nervous catarrhal fever.\" The care of his mother extended\nto every moment of the day and night: her chamber was the next room to\nthe salon in which her son lay: on the least noise she was at his\nbed-side. What she endured of toil, seemingly beyond human strength, and\nhow her maternal feelings were tortured, will appear in the sequel.\n\nOne of the symptoms of the malady was the induration of the belly: it\nbecame hard and tight like a drum or inflated bladder; this proceeded\nfrom the meteorized state of the bowels; and the vapour or fumes,\nascending thence to the brain, as in the case of drunkenness, caused\ndelirium. It was attempted to relieve this induration by emollient\nfomentations. Kenelm's delirium was not so entire, but that his\nattention might be directed by those around him to any object that might\nrequire it: he spoke French or English, according to the nation of the\nperson whom he addressed; and it was remarkable, that he talked French\nwithout hesitating or correcting his phrases, as he was wont to do in\nhealth: the delirium in this also resembling drunkenness, which, in its\nearlier stage, gives a firm and ready elocution.\n\nThis mental alienation continued till within a few hours of his death:\nit was the touchstone of his character: he talked much, even when\nalone, or when, as in the watches of the night, by the faint light of a\nlamp, he thought himself alone; and his talking was thinking aloud; so\nthat, had his mind or disposition concealed any thing inconsistent with\npiety, purity, or charity, it must have been then revealed: if his\nself-love had been excessive, it would have burst forth in vain-glorious\nexpressions: if he had entertained inordinate desires of any kind, they\nwould then have betrayed themselves. But there was nothing of all this.\nHe recited frequently and for a length of time together the prayers of\nthe church, or those used in the family: he uttered sentiments of piety\nand devotion: \"O my God, I love thee with my whole heart and soul, and I\nbeg rather to die than offend thee by any mortal sin;\" with many other\naspirations of holy fervour. So little fear existed of his saying any\nthing unfit for chaste or virgin ears to hear, that, not till after his\ndeath, did it offer itself to my mind that this danger had actually been\nincurred. It is worthy of remark, that he never said any thing on the\nsubject of those scruples which had given him uneasiness during his\nhealth; a presumption that they were unfounded, and had their source in\ntimidity and inexperience. The charity \"which thinketh no evil,\" did\nnot now forsake him; he spoke of the several persons of his\nacquaintance, but not in dispraise of any. Of one who, as I knew, had\nlately given him offence, he said, \"M. de ---- is a very good, a very\npious man.\" It may be conjectured that he made an effort to say\nsomething in this person's favour, as the sort of eulogy by no means\nsuited the character of him to whom it was given.\n\nHis patience was admirable. On the twelfth of September, sinapism was\napplied to the soles of his feet: it produced no good effect, being\ntaken off four hours after it was put on; but, during those four hours,\nit caused excessive torture: he said, \"it is a fire that burns without\nconsuming.\" Two days after the removal of the sinapism, Roche ordered\nblisters on the legs, and insisted, in token of his good-will, on\nputting them on himself: he put them on as one unaccustomed to the work:\nthe patient, unconscious of what he was doing, tore them off in the\nnight, and spread the blistering drug on different parts of his body.\nThe surgeon who attended to dress the blisters, advised that these\nslight excoriations should be let alone, fearing to draw them by any\nhealing plaster, and hoping that they might heal of themselves. The\nrestlessness of the patient prevented this: plasters were then applied,\nbut four or five of these wounds situated on the parts on which he\nrested in bed, continued till his death. By these wounds Kenelm was\nurged to exclaim, \"O why do I suffer so much?\" but immediately corrected\nhimself: \"I am very wrong--very impatient.\" He refused to take any thing\nto remove the nauseous taste of the medicines: he once asked for a piece\nof an orange for this purpose, and then rejected it. On some few\noccasions he complained, as one suffering indeed, but not as without\nresignation, or unwilling to suffer: he seemed at all times sensible of\nthe duty of bearing his illness in the spirit of penance: even his\ndelirium did not destroy the virtuous habits of his mind.\n\nAbout this time my younger son began to be ill; the predisposition to\nthe typhus manifested itself in listlessness and languor. Roche said,\n\"Il est triste a cause de son frere: il faut l'amuser; il faut le\npromener.\"[70] He was still able, for some days longer, to amuse himself\nwith his pencil or at chess with me, and to walk out with the servant or\nsome of the family; but the malady gained upon him.\n\nAfter the event, I can blame myself, and may be blamed by others, for\nallowing my confidence in Roche to continue so long. After the event, I\nreceived hints, and more than hints, that he was not of skill enough for\na serious case; while he was still retained, no one spoke against him.\nBesides, he had served me well in the serious case of the scarlet fever.\nI did not place more reliance on him on account of his devotion, knowing\nthat devotion is but too often another mode of self-deceit: but I\nthought him incapable of acting like a villain. The patient showed an\nappearance of great strength, and Roche's daily promises of his speedy\nrecovery did not as yet bear the semblance of improbability.\n\nThe silence of the surgeon, who came every morning and evening to dress\nand keep open the blisters, also tended to deceive me. He might have\nbeen the means of saving a valuable life, of rescuing the family from\nthe danger of contagion, all except the younger son, who had already\ntaken the infection; and for him might have procured timely aid: but he\nprudently held his tongue, except to assure us that there was no danger.\n\nAt length came the grand conspirator, he who set his seal to the deceit,\nrendered the discovery of Roche's error impracticable, and assured its\nresult.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[69] \"Your son is an angel.\"--\"Not yet.\"\n\n[70] He is melancholy on account of his brother; he must be amused; he\nmust be taken out.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVII.\n\n\nOn the seventeenth of September, I proposed to Roche to call in another\nphysician, naming M. Guerard, a man of acknowledged ability, but old and\ndeaf. On account of these natural defects of Guerard, and out of\nfriendship for Roche, I did not discharge this latter. Roche said, \"I\nwill call myself on M. Guerard, and bring him to the house.\" I saw\nnothing in this proposal, but an act of civility towards Guerard. I have\nsince understood that this man sheltered himself, under the character of\n_consulting_ physician, from the reproach of a treacherous abuse of my\nconfidence in him. It is possible that Roche called him in as such, from\nunwillingness to seem to be superseded. But on his second visit, when he\ncame alone, on his observing, \"M. Roche est votre medecin,\" I replied,\n\"vous l'etes aussi,\"[71] and explained to him, that I expected from him\nthe service of a physician just as much as if Roche was not in\nattendance; adding that, if I had been perfectly satisfied with Roche, I\nshould not have called in another. Besides he received his fee; a\ncircumstance which, if I understand aright, technically nullifies a\ntechnical defence of a conduct too atrocious for me to suspect at the\ntime, and including too much cruelty to be justified by any\nconsiderations.\n\nHe came, accompanied by Roche. He said, \"M. Roche has explained to me in\ndetail your son's illness and the treatment of it: we will go and see\nhim.\" He examined his patient with great attention. On leaving the room\nhe said, \"this is a very serious malady, but I see no immediate danger.\"\nHe prescribed musk and bark: these medicines being proper for the\ntyphus, prove what indeed has never been questioned, that he knew, from\nthe first, the nature of the complaint. The languid state of my younger\nson was mentioned to him; he smiled on him good-naturedly, took his\nhand, but made no remark, giving at the same time a significant look at\nRoche.\n\nThe servant met them descending the stairs; Guerard wringing his hands,\nand Roche looking, as the man expressed himself, like a scolded child,\n\"un enfant gronde.\" By some fatality, Antoine did not speak of this\ntill some days after the death of Kenelm: had it been mentioned at the\ntime, it might have changed the whole state of things.\n\nThe next morning, Antoine asked Roche on his first visit, \"Is M. Kenelm\nworse, Sir? M. Guerard seemed much disturbed yesterday.\" Roche said, \"O\nno: all is going on well: he is better.\"\n\nGuerard did not even order Roche's treatment, though contrary to the\nmalady, to be discontinued; and Roche went on with his barley-water and\ncalming potion conjointly with Guerard's prescribed medicines. After\nvisiting four days, Guerard fell ill of the gout and was confined to his\nhouse: it was then agreed that Roche should report to him daily the\nstate of the patient, and consult with him on the treatment.\n\nMy eldest daughter, subsequently to Guerard's first visit, was ill of a\nsore throat: had she taken the infection of the typhus, would these\nmedical men still have persevered in their silence? A good providence\nwas merciful. She recovered; we were less alarmed, as unaware of the\nextent of the danger; and it is not proved that the medical men were\nwilling to assassinate more than two of the family.\n\nKenelm appeared to be somewhat benefited by Guerard's medicines; and the\nexternal application of camphor, now prescribed by Roche, mitigated the\ndelirium, though it did not remove the cause. His brother said one day,\n\"Let us try how far his mind is free:\" and, taking the drawing\nbefore-mentioned of the infant Jesus, which had been framed and hung up\nin the first salon, he placed it at the foot of his brother's bed.\nKenelm looked at it for a short time with seeming pleasure, and then\nsaid, \"Perhaps that may hereafter do me some little honour.\" Other\nindications he gave, that he thought his end to be near: he said to me,\nwith a pensive and composed look,--\"Monument? what monument shall I\nhave?\" He heard the bell of the church of St. Agricol, and cried, \"Why\ndo they ring that bell? I am not dead yet.\" On the twenty-fourth of\nSeptember he said to his mother, \"I dreamed last night that Mr. Roche\ntook me into a church, and left me there, promising to bring me every\nday bread and water. He did so for some time; but one day he failed of\ncoming, and I died. I thought in my dream that I made a very happy\ndeath: I am certain it is a very easy thing to make a happy death.\"\n\nThis dream evidently tranquillized and spoke peace to his soul: it was a\nmerciful dispensation, when other means of spiritual comfort were\nrendered impossible by the delirium, which however left to his pious\nthoughts their direction and energy.\n\nHe had been, for some days before, a little better. The delirium was\nsomewhat abated, and he seemed to have more strength; but on the\ntwenty-fifth these favourable symptoms disappeared; this lightening\nbefore death vanished. On the evening of that day, the surgeon took upon\nhimself to apply healing plasters to the blisters, without asking the\nopinion of Roche, who was present, and who, though unasked, to keep\nhimself in countenance, gave his assent, saying, \"C'est tres bien fait\nde M. Busquet.\"[72] Roche had evidently now lost all presence of mind:\nhe knew not what to do; and no confidence could longer be placed in one\nwho ceased even to affect to have any in himself. The next morning I\nsent him his discharge: he wrote me a letter full of respect and\nsensibility, complaining of this measure, and returning the fee. The\ncustom of France is, that the physician is not paid till the termination\nof the malady: had Roche retained the fee, he would have acceded to his\nown dismissal, which he earnestly wished to be recalled, foreseeing\nthat all must inevitably be known on the arrival of another physician.\nGuerard too, who was still confined by the gout, made strong objections\nto the calling in another physician, whom I named to him, and who had\nstudied with credit at Paris. He requested me to be contented that the\nsurgeon, an able man, should make his report as Roche had done, and\npromised to call the next day in a \"chaise a porteurs\"--sedan-chair.\n\nI had taken with me my younger son, intending to consult Guerard about\nhim. In my confusion and anxiety, I forgot to do so; but Guerard, who\nknew the nature of the malady, and that I had been kept in the dark\nconcerning it;--who knew that my younger son, ten days before, had been\nill for some days--must have apprehended his state, even from his looks,\nand to this state consigned him. Roche, during his latter visits, had\nsedulously avoided paying attention to the younger son; and so slow at\nfirst was the advance of the illness, that we had neglected to call his\nattention that way. Roche too knew all. Had he continued his visits, I\ncannot tell what he would have done: perhaps he could not tell himself.\nHe could hardly have talked of a second \"catarrhal nervous fever;\" nor\ncould Guerard have borne him out in it.\n\nThe next morning, the 27th, I called again on Guerard. On seeing me, he\ncried out, \"Sir, I should have come to your house yesterday, but for the\ndifficulty of mounting the stairs.\"--\"You might have been carried up in\nan armchair by the porters.\"--\"That shall be done to-morrow, if I am not\nstrong enough to mount by myself: at any rate I will come to-morrow.\" He\nnow, by my desire, felt my younger son's pulse. \"He has some fever: he\nmust be taken care of: I will come to-morrow.\" He well knew, though I\ndid not, how urgent the case was: though regularly called upon to\nprescribe for my younger son, he thus evaded his duty. He added,\nreferring to the elder son,--\"M. Busquet is a clever man: he has my\nmethod, and will treat your son according to it. Another physician will,\nvery likely, wish to try experiments.\"\n\nIf I admitted with such credulous facility the delays of this\ncold-hearted man and the fear of empiricism, which he artfully threw in,\nit was because I foresaw not the calamities that awaited me: could I\neven have foreseen them, I should not have suspected any one capable of\nthus trifling with a father of a family, who, in that quality, had\nthrown himself on his good faith, and, in his quality of stranger, in\nsome sort on the good faith of his nation.\n\nI acted even worse on the morrow. Guerard failed to come; I waited for\nhim the whole day, and then did not even send to inquire after him. I do\nnot pretend to excuse a conduct so inconsistent with my principles and\nfeelings; yet be it remembered, sorrow and perturbation of mind are bad\ncounsellors. Desponding and sick at heart, overcome by lassitude--I\nspeak not of corporeal fatigue, for a messenger would have ascertained\nthe failure of Guerard, and brought a physician in his stead--but\noverborne by the disappointment of the efforts I had made, and, later in\nthe day, becoming sensible of the danger of Kenelm, I felt as if, like\nthe father of Thessalonica, I could not help one son without abandoning\nthe other. I acted wrong: it is some consolation to reflect that,\nwhereas, on the following day, I found the physician who saved the life\nof my younger son; had I this day sent for one, that one might not have\nhad the same success. For Kenelm, the delay imported not; his days were\nnumbered. It may also be a palliation that, when his mother asked the\nsurgeon what news she might send to her friends in England, he\nreplied,--\"You may tell them, Madam, that there is no danger.\"\n\nIn the evening of the same day, this same man said to me, \"Your son is\nworse: your younger son also requires attention: I will go immediately\nto M. Guerard, and tell him it is absolutely necessary that a physician\nshould visit them.\" He said also, \"It would be better that the young\nladies should not stay in their brother's chamber.\" I said, \"We have\nbeen assured that there is no danger of contagion.\"--\"There is always\nsome danger.\" He spoke of the sisters who were present, and whose\npresence had always seemed to give pleasure to Kenelm. His brother was\nso weakened by the now rapid progress of his own malady, that, for two\ndays, he had hardly passed into this room, and had gone early to bed. It\nwas now with him, as was known afterwards, the twelfth day of the fever.\nHe himself, from his own feelings asserted that his disorder was the\nsame as his brother's. The medical diagnosis was the same; yet to me,\nwho could judge by appearances only, it seemed a perfectly different\nillness; the prostration of all the strength of the body was the only\nvisible symptom, and this had come on gradually and quietly, had brought\nwith it loss of spirits and of appetite, had even affected the\neye-sight, but without any occasional excitement, without delirium.\n\nTowards midnight I took my station to watch by the bed-side of Kenelm\nwith a presentiment, very naturally to be accounted for, that it was\nfor the last time. He passed the night in tolerable tranquillity, but,\nat day-break, he began to disturb and alarm us by loud and continued\ntalking. At the same time his understanding seemed to be returning, as,\namidst the extravagancies he uttered, he spoke of an occurrence in the\nlife-time of his eldest sister, (little Mary he called her,) \"but that\nwas a long time ago; she has been dead fifteen years:\" this was exact.\nHe said also, \"I would give the world to be able to hold my tongue, but\nI seem to have something within me that forces me to talk.\" He talked in\nfact incessantly for six hours, till his voice even became hoarse. This\nwas the last effort of the victorious typhus: the gangrene of the bowels\nwas now in operation; sickness came on.\n\nGuerard had not rendered himself to the summons of the surgeon the\nevening before, nor to the repeated summons of the same messenger this\nmorning. I hastened to his house: at eleven o'clock he was sitting in\nhis arm chair: he had not even sent word that he could not come. I\naddressed him in a hurried manner:--\"Is my son to take the bark, since\nhe is vomiting?\" Guerard, being deaf, and supposing my question to be a\nreiterated invitation, or complaint of his absence, declared his utter\ninability to visit me, concluding his excuses, with \"Voici le medecin\nque je vous recommande,\"[73] pointing to a person sitting near him, whom\nI had before met with, but did not recognise. Suspecting that Guerard's\nrecommendation might proceed from jealousy of the other physician whom I\nhad once named to him, I requested the stranger to give me his address,\nwhich he did; M. Breugne. I then repeated my question to Guerard, who,\nnot hearing to the end, advised that the bark should be continued. M.\nBreugne said, \"Puisqu'il vomit?\"[74] Guerard then said the bark must be\nsuspended. I asked him what opinion he had formed on the report of the\nsurgeon: to this a vague answer was given. M. Breugne said, that a\nphysician could not judge of a patient's case by report: he gave some\nreasons for this opinion, concluding, \"the pulse cannot be described.\" I\ntook leave hastily and without explaining my intentions as to the\nsuccessor to Roche and Guerard. This latter had no claim to know them. I\nwished to inform myself respecting M. Breugne.\n\nThe physician whom I had in my mind, had a high reputation, but was\nyoung, and consequently as yet had but little practice. I went up to my\nyounger son's chamber, \"Who is this M. Breugne?\" said I. \"He is the\nphysician of the family of M. de R. of whom they all speak so highly.\"\n\nHad the question been proposed to him an hour later, he would have been\nincapable of answering it, for then the stupor of the fever was fully\ncome upon him. Had the stupor come upon him twelve hours later, he must\nhave known of the death of his brother; and the effect of that\nknowledge, in his weak state, would most probably have been fatal to\nhim.\n\nI now recollected, concerning M. Breugne, what was amply sufficient to\ndecide me in his favour. By way of making amends for my reserve, I went\nto his house myself. He promised to come in ten minutes: that space of\ntime I employed in helping my younger son to dress, and come down\nstairs: the fatigue of these operations was to him excessive; arrived at\nthe door of the first salon, he looked at the sofa, as if he wished it\nto come to meet him, made a few hasty and tottering steps, and threw\nhimself upon it, quite exhausted. He desired that it might be turned\nwith its back to the windows, as the light importuned him: this was\ndone, and the large round table was pushed from the centre of the salon\ntowards one side, that there might be space between it and the sofa.\nThis trifling circumstance is not mentioned idly; it will be seen\nhereafter to have its meaning.\n\nWho can deny the existence of a superintending, a particular Providence,\nwhen he observes, that the mental faculties of my younger son were\ncontinued to him, as if on purpose that he might assist me in\ndetermining on the choice of the physician who rescued him from death,\nand that they were then temporarily suspended precisely at the time when\nit became necessary that he should be kept in ignorance of what, if\nknown, would have retarded or prevented his restoration to health? Is it\npresumption in me to think, that even my negligence of the former day,\nwhen I waited so long for Guerard without taking any steps to replace\nhim, may have been regulated, that the merciful dispensations of a good\nProvidence might have their way? I advance this conjecture in all\nhumility, and corrected by a sense of my own unworthiness.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[71] \"M. Roche is your physician.\"--\"_You_ are my physician also.\"\n\n[72] It is very well done of M. Busquet.\n\n[73] Here is the physician whom I recommend to you.\n\n[74] Since he is vomiting?\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVIII.\n\n\nM. Breugne, entering the room and seeing his younger patient stretched\non the sofa, went first to him: after a short examination, he said: \"Il\na la fievre typhus, et, a en juger par la gravite des symptomes, il l'a\neu depuis huit a dix jours: il doit l'avoir gagnee de M. son frere aine,\nque je n'ai pas encore vu.\"[75] I led him into the inner salon. He felt\nthe pulse of the elder son; his mother was standing by the bed-side: he\nlooked at what Kenelm had thrown from his stomach: the mother asked if\nit was the bark; \"Non, Madam, ce n'est pas cela;\" and, with a look of\ndreadful import, he led me out of the room, and, with a hurried under\nvoice, said, \"C'en est fait de lui: sauvons l'autre: qu'il soit monte au\nsecond; que ses soeurs ne mettent pas meme le pied sur l'escalier.\"[76]\nAll was now at once revealed. Breugne, overcome by the impetuosity of\nhis own feelings, did not give himself time to reflect with how little\npreparation or management he made known to me the certain death of one\nson, the uncertain fate of the other, and the danger of all the family.\nI was stunned, but not surprised.\n\nHe prescribed for the two brothers; \"With respect to the elder, we will\ndo our duty; but it is useless, and may torment him; he has not two days\nto live; indeed I fear he will not pass the night: for the younger, I\ncan assure you of nothing; I have hope: I have followed, as physician,\nthe armies of Italy, and have attended, it may be, a thousand persons\nunder this disorder; I have lost but two or three, and then only through\nsome fault of the patient; but here, in the case of your younger son,\nthis fault exists,--he has been ten days without treatment, without\nmedical aid.\" He returned at five o'clock in the afternoon, and gave\nmore particular directions concerning him, confirming his opinion, that\nKenelm could not live over the night. Two hours later, the surgeon\ncalled as usual, but proposed not to dress the blisters till next\nmorning. How we cling to the possession of a beloved object!\nNotwithstanding what she had heard and what she saw before her, the\nmother was alarmed, and cried out, \"You think he will not live till\nmorning?\" Not less grieved, but more resolute, I touched the sole of\nKenelm's foot, and said to the surgeon, \"He is already cold here:\" the\nsurgeon, touching the upper part of the foot, said, \"There is warmth\nhere:\" \"Yes,\" said I, \"the natural heat is retiring.\" The surgeon made\nno reply. To calm the mother's fears, he seemed to dress the blisters;\nand so the work of these medical men was ended.\n\nOur director had called in the course of the morning: he pitied the\naffliction of the family, and conversed with the excellent youth now\napproaching to the close of a virtuous life. Kenelm wished to make a\ngeneral confession; the priest knowing this to be, in his case,\nsuperfluous, and doubting if his mind or bodily strength were sufficient\nto such a purpose, consoled him, and persuaded him to defer it. In the\nevening he called again, and proposed to me the administration of the\nsacrament of extreme unction; undertaking to prepare the cure of St.\nAgricol, the parish-church. The viaticum was, of necessity, to be\nomitted on account of the vomiting. Kenelm, though exhausted by this\ndischarge, yet on account of the movement which it occasioned, and from\npainful and uneasy sensations, was unable to sleep: he called aloud\nseveral times the name of his brother, recollecting perhaps that he had\nnot seen him during the day, adding, \"He is playing alone in the field.\"\nHis three younger sisters had retired to their chambers, just before the\narrival of the priest with the holy oils.\n\nI said to him, \"You will be glad to see M. l'Abbe:\" he assented. The\npriest, addressing him, said, \"You see this is the crucifix?\" he\nanswered, changing his language immediately into that of the priest,\n\"Oui, Monsieur;\" and devoutly kissed the sign of salvation. The\nexpression of his countenance, during the extreme unction, was that of\njoy mingled with surprise; as of one delighted with the approach of\ndeath, and understanding now, for the first time, that it was near. No\ndoubt was entertained but that he knew what was going forward, and, in\nhope, set the seal to his faith. The priest and his attendant retired.\nKenelm's mother approached the bed: \"Will you pray for me------\" she had\nnot force to add, as she wished, \"when you are in heaven?\" He said,\n\"Yes, I will, if you will not cry: why do you cry?\"--\"To see you so\nill.\"--\"That is the reason; yes, I am very ill:\" he expressed a wish to\nrepose himself, but could not sleep; the fermentation of the gangrene\nwas consuming his bowels.\n\nI sent for M. Breugne again at ten o'clock. \"I am giving you an useless\ntrouble; but can any thing be done to relieve him?\" Breugne looked at\nhim attentively, and turning away, said, \"He has not two hours to live.\"\nMy eldest daughter, in a movement of grief and despair, cried out, \"Sir,\nyou abandon him; you have not even felt his pulse.\" Breugne, in a\ncompassionate and placid manner, said, \"If it will be a satisfaction to\nyou, Mademoiselle,--\" and felt the wrist: \"he has no pulse that can be\ncounted.\" I went up with Breugne into my younger son's chamber: \"Il\ndort; laissons-le; je viendrai demain de bonne heure.\"[77]\n\nNotwithstanding Kenelm's satisfactory behaviour during the religious\nceremony of which he had been the subject, I wished for more positive\nassurance that his reason was restored to him, and that he was aware of\nhis state: I wished, as far as I might, to comfort him, and prepare him\nfor his end. The task was most difficult: thirty days before, youth and\nthe expectation of a long life were his: a month had been passed in a\ndream from which he was now awakened but to die. In his weak state, how\nenter on such a topic? I endeavoured to lead to it. \"Do you love me, my\ndear son?\"--\"Yes, I love you; as I ought; you have great virtues.\"--\"And\ngreat faults.\"--\"It is not for me to judge of that.\"--\"Do you forgive me\nthe faults I may have committed in regard to you?\"--\"Assuredly I do.\" He\nsignified that he should be obliged to vomit, and I withdrew; nor could\nI afterwards excite him to speak, though I frequently drew near the bed\nfor that purpose, and, at times, gently called him by his name.\n\nHis last words were words of charity, of pardon, and of peace. His\nfather and mother took one of his hands in theirs; it was cold, colder\nthan afterwards in death: he seemed unwilling to be thus disturbed; they\nlaid the hand down, and, with their eldest daughter, awaited the end in\npainful and trembling anxiety: he appeared to suffer, but to be so\noppressed as to be unable to give expression to the sense of what he\nsuffered. The hour of midnight sounded: his last agony came on; and,\nwithin ten minutes, he expired on Sunday morning, the thirtieth of\nSeptember, aged twenty years, four months, and twenty-five days.\n\nThe affliction of his parents and sister, who were fully sensible of the\nvalue of what they had lost, needs not to be described. The exclamation\nof Antoine Leturge, the domestic, the other witness of this scene of\nwoe, was simple and expressive: \"Il est mort, lui, qui etoit si\nbon!\"[78] As they gazed on the awful object before them, the sister\nsaid, \"His eyes ought to be closed;\" the mother, without due\nrecollection at the moment, made a sign to the servant: he, with right\nfeeling, gently said, \"C'est au pere a faire cela:\"[79] and the father\ndid it.\n\nAfter attending to the due arrangement of the chamber, and of the\nprecious remains, I went up stairs: the doors of the chambers of my two\nsons were close to each other; I was strangely struck by the sight of\nthe open door of the untenanted chamber, and stopt a moment to recover\nforce to enter into the other. I saw the flushed face of my only\nsurviving son through the gauze that surrounded the bed; I heard his\nbreathing, too full, but tranquil and equal. I withdrew, and took a few\nhours troubled sleep on the couch on which both my sons had commenced\ntheir dreadful malady.\n\nIn the morning, a table was placed, according to the usage of the\ncountry, at the door of the court of the house, with paper and pens for\nthose who wished to signify their condolence with the family, to write\ntheir names. The list of names was numerous: among them some one wrote,\n\"Tous les honnetes gens de la ville d'Avignon.\"[80] It was never known\nwho paid this tribute to the virtues of the deceased. I cannot forbear\nto mention, that the man who had given him lessons in fencing, a hardy\nsoldier who had seen much military service, was so shocked by the news\nof his death, that he fainted in the street, and was led home in a weak\nstate: this man was not advanced in years, but of the middle age, stout,\nand of high spirit.\n\nBefore mid-day, the body in its coffin was taken to a room on the ground\nfloor: a shirt and sheet served, according to the custom of France, the\npurpose of the woollen shroud: the head was raised on a pillow: the\nhands were fixed, as we still see them on some ancient tombs, in the\nposture of prayer: a small crucifix, the same which he had pressed to\nhis lips the evening before, was placed on the breast: wax tapers and\nincense were burnt; the latter in more than ordinary quantity as a\npreservative from infection. The lid of the coffin is not, at any time,\nfastened in the south of France, not even at the time of interment: it\nis then laid evenly upon it; till then it is placed obliquely, so that\nthe upper part of the body and the feet are seen. The face of the\ndeceased now bore no sign of suffering; the features were composed,\nand seemed to indicate a tranquil state. Owing to the excessive cold\nwhich, before death, had gradually spread itself over the body, the\nmuscles had become instantly rigid, and it had been impossible to close\ncompletely the eyes and mouth: so that the separated eye-lashes, and a\nfine set of teeth, white and regular, added to the illusion produced by\nwhat seemed an expression of thoughtfulness. Death looked like sleep: it\nrequired an effort of reflection to be convinced of the mournful\nreality.\n\nOn the morning of the first of October, the clergy of the cathedral came\nto the house to convey the body to the church: they were requested not\nto begin their chant of the office for the dead, till at such a distance\nas not to be heard by the surviving brother. The church was filled by a\ncrowd whom divine charity, or the best feelings of humanity, brought to\nassist at the solemn rite, and to witness a scene which the early youth,\nthe well-known virtues, the afflicted state of the family of him who lay\nbefore them, conspired to render interesting. High mass was celebrated:\nthe body was then carried to the cemetery to the north of the city, and\ninterred towards the middle of the wall enclosing the cemetery on the\nnorth; the head resting near the wall, the feet turned towards Avignon.\nEighteen masses, without chant, were said for the repose of the soul of\nthe defunct. On Friday following, high mass was again sung, when,\naccording to custom, the friends of the family were invited to be\npresent: a great concourse again attended to join their prayers to the\npowerful intercession of the spotless victim, and testify their sympathy\nand compassion.\n\nOn a tablet of white marble, inserted in a sepulchral stone from the\nquarries of Barbentanne, is inscribed, in the Latin language, his name,\nhis country, his religion, his age, and the date of the day and year of\nhis death. Henry Kenelm was tall, more than five feet ten inches in\nheight, strong and well-made, but not large-limbed; with light hair,\ndark blue eyes, and dark eye-lashes, and a fair complexion. The\nexpression of his countenance was, like his mind, benevolent, frank,\ncheerful, and intelligent. When we were at Florence, a year after his\ndeath, a cast, from a statue in the public gallery, was sent to our\nlodging as a model for drawing. All of us were struck by the resemblance\nof this bust to him whom we regretted, whose features were still so\nfresh in our recollection. Antoine was called; the bust was shown to\nhim; nothing was said: \"It is like M. Kenelm,\" said he. My son took two\ncopies of this bust: the original is an _athleta_, as it is called,\nbearing and looking down upon an urn: it is the third or fourth statue\nfrom the entrance of the gallery on the left hand. We showed the bust to\na friend: \"It is like the son whom we have lost.\"--\"Your son was a very\nfine young man.\" The face of the statue is certainly handsome: that of\nKenelm had more animation. His manners were those of good society,\nwanting nothing but that ease and confidence which time and experience\nwould have given.\n\nThe friends who endeavoured to console me, employed, among other topics,\nthat of the danger of the world to youth. The argument proves too much.\nA father is not reconciled, by the apprehension of a danger, uncertain,\nand (in this case it may not be presumption to say) improbable, to the\nloss of a son whom he has reared with careful and anxious thought, to\nwhose future life he looks forward with pleasing hope. The Greek proverb\nindeed says, \"He, whom God loves, dies young;\" but we trust that many\nwho do not die young are beloved by God. More effectually did the\npriest at Avignon console me: he knew, as confessor, the interior and\nthe conscience of Kenelm: \"Je vous reponds de son salut; c'etoit un\nfruit mur pour le ciel: Dieu l'a cueilli, et l'a mis dans son\ngrenier.\"[81] The Almighty Father of all, whose wise providence sends\nafflictions, who knows when those whom he is pleased to call to himself\nhave well finished their course,--he can give assured comfort, and this\nassured comfort he was graciously pleased to impart to the parents of\nHenry Kenelm.\n\nMean time let me hope that this example of faith and piety, of filial\nsubmission and fraternal love, of application to study, of patience,\nmortification, chastity, will not be lost; that some will be reclaimed,\nand many edified.\n\nTo my children especially, I recommend this memorial, written with tears\nof mingled joy and grief: they have lost a brother, but they possess the\nremembrance of his virtues, the knowledge of his felicity, the benefit\nof his intercession. May they ever bear in mind that \"every good, every\nperfect gift cometh from above;\" that to\n\n \"Him alone is glory,\" who \"in crowning our merits crowneth his own\n work.\"\n\n [Greek: Doron toi kai ego, teknon phile, touto didomi.]\n\nI will now relate an occurrence, on which I request the reader to\nexercise his judgment temperately. He will readily believe that I have\nnot invented it: this is not an age in which credit is given to visions\nor honor to visionaries.\n\nIn the night between the 30th and 31st of October, thirty entire days\nafter the death of Kenelm, his parents retired late to rest; in fact, at\none o'clock of the morning of the 31st. As they were composing\nthemselves to sleep, they heard a noise as of the breaking of a small\nstick. To me this noise seemed to proceed from the cabinet or\ndressing-room behind the bed; my wife heard it as from the commode or\ndrawers opposite the foot of the bed. We asked each other what the noise\nmight be, and compared what we had heard. Within a minute, my wife, who\nhad raised herself in her bed, asked me, \"What light is that?\" I saw no\nlight, and asked, \"Where?\"--\"On the drawers, brighter than any candle.\"\nShe proceeded to describe what she saw: \"Now it rises and grows larger.\nHow beautifully bright! brighter than the most brilliant star. What can\nit mean? it is very strange you don't see it.\" I thought so too; but, to\nencourage her, said, \"Compose yourself; it can mean no harm.\" She went\non: \"It still rises and grows larger: now it turns towards the\nwindow--it takes the form of a dove with the wings spread but--it has a\nbright glory all around it--it looks steadily at me--it speaks to my\nheart, and tells me that my dear Henry is happy--it fixes a piercing\nlook on me, as if it would make me feel what it means. Now I know he is\nhappy, and shall lament no more for him. There--now it has disappeared.\"\nThough I had not seen the light, I could see the face of my wife while\nshe was looking at it, and the tears glittering as if a bright light\npassed through them while they fell down her cheeks. The French word\nwould be _ebrillantees_. There still remained a suffused light in the\nroom, particularly on the wall above the drawers, as of the reflection\nof a nearly extinguished fire. This was observed by both of us. It\nlasted about five minutes, growing gradually fainter, and at length\nfailing entirely. While looking at this suffused and darkish red light,\nand reasoning with myself how or why the bright light had not been seen\nby me, I remarked, on the floor, by the open door of the cabinet, the\nreflection of a veilleuse, or small night-lamp. These lights are made\nof a single thread of cotton half an inch long, steeped in melted wax,\nand, when dry, inserted in little flat pieces of cork, which are\nfloated, while the cotton is burning, in a small quantity of oil. This\nnight-lamp was placed in the remotest corner of the dressing room, which\nwent the whole length of the bed-room. I saw its reflection on the floor\nonly, and only so far as the open door permitted it to be seen. \"This\"\nsaid I, \"cannot be the cause of the suffused light; still less can it\nhave been the cause of the bright one.\" While I was looking, first at\nthe suffused light, then at the reflection of the lamp, the former\ndisappeared; it was plain, therefore, that it had not been caused by the\nlatter.\n\nIn the morning we visited the tomb of our departed son, and returned\nthanks to God. During the whole of the scene which I have described,\nwhich lasted about half a quarter of an hour, my wife's behaviour was\nsufficiently composed and recollected, was consistent and rational, free\nfrom affectation or enthusiasm. A sudden and transient apparition of an\nilluminated dove with a glory might be considered as the work of fancy;\nbut here this appearance was prepared for and followed by circumstances,\nin which the imagination could have no part. The attention of her who\nwas to see the vision was directed, by the noise preceding it, to the\nplace where it first appeared; while I was roused by the same noise, but\nheard by me in a different part of the chamber, as if I were to be, as\nin the main I was, a witness only. I repeat, the suffused light was seen\nby us _both_ for four or five minutes. Besides the form which the bright\nlight assumed to the eyes of my wife, the circumstance of its being seen\nby one of the parties only, without weakening the force of her\ntestimony, is conclusive against its being either a natural or\nartificial light; and her testimony, aided by mine, as to the\nconcomitant circumstances, proves it to have been a supernatural one.\nThe house looked into a court; there was no house opposite from which\nlamp or candle could be seen; the moon, whatever witty people may be\ninclined to say of the influence of the moon in this case, was but four\ndays old: besides, the window shutters were closed, and excluded all\nlights, artificial or natural.\n\nTo use the words of a learned, rational, and respectable old man, the\ncure of St. Agricol, to whom I related the matter, \"Ce qu'on voit, on\nvoit.\" True,--what one sees, one sees; but the scripture, with that\nintimate knowledge of human nature evident in its every page, speaks of\nsome who \"will not be persuaded even though one rose from the dead.\"\n\nThe term of thirty days has been observed in the catholic church as that\nat the end of which revelations have sometimes been made of the\nhappiness of departed souls.\n\nI will now proceed in order with my narrative, but will first, to\nconclude this subject, transcribe the affecting prayer for the dead in\nthe canon of the mass, which, not having found its way into \"The Book of\nCommon Prayer,\" will be new to many of my readers:--\n\n\"Memento, Domine, famulorum famularumque tuarum N. et N. qui nos\npraeecesserunt cum signo fidei, et dormiunt in somno pacis: ipsis,\nDomine, et omnibus in Christo quiescentibus, locum refrigerii, lucis, et\npacis, ut indulgeas, deprecamur; per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum.\nAmen.\"\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[75] He has the typhus fever; and, to judge by the gravity of the\nsymptoms, he has had it for eight or ten days: he must have taken it\nfrom his elder brother, whom I have not yet seen.\n\n[76] It is all over with _him_: let us save the other; let him be taken\nup to the second story, and let his sisters not even set a foot on the\nstaircase.\n\n[77] He sleeps: we will leave him alone: I will come again early\nto-morrow.\n\n[78] He is dead; he that was so good!\n\n[79] It is for the father to do that.\n\n[80] All the worthy people of the city of Avignon.\n\n[81] I answer to you for his salvation; it was a fruit ripe for heaven:\nGod has gathered it, and placed it in his granary.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIX.\n\n\nOn the morning of the funeral, M. Breugne called a little before ten\no'clock, the time appointed to the clergy, led me up into my son's\nchamber, made there a long visit, gave me to understand the hour to be\nearlier than it really was, returned into the salon, and kept me there\nfor some time in conversation. When he had retired, I went down to the\nroom where the body of Kenelm had lain: it was gone. I stood some time\nlamenting the disappointment of my purposed farewell; blaming the\nwell-meant and successful efforts of Breugne to deprive me of this\nsorrowful satisfaction, and renewing the impression of the view I had\ntaken the preceding evening of that which I was to behold no more. The\ncrucifix lay on the table; I took it up; and, before leaving the room,\nwas preparing to extinguish the tapers which were, by chance as I\nthought, left burning. The femme-de-chambre called out to me, \"Monsieur,\nil ne faut pas faire cela: les cierges lient la famille a ce qui se fait\ndans l'eglise.\"[82]\n\nIt is easy to call this arrangement superstitious: there was good\nsense, and a sense of decorum in thus declaring, by external signs,\nour participation in the office in which we had so dear a concern.\nWhatever man loves or esteems highly, he endeavours to represent to\nhimself by symbols. Friends set a great value on those tokens of\nfriendship which they may have received as presents; even to become\naccidentally possessed of any object, however trifling, that belonged\nto a friend, is a cause of pleasure. Portraits are precious, not merely\nas works of art, but as reminding us of those whom we delight to\nremember; and none refuse to venerate the images of saints, but\nthose who make no account of the saints themselves. In Italy, in the\nsalons of ambassadors, I have seen the thrones of their several\nsovereigns, to connect by these emblems the representatives with the\nrepresented,--ceremonial so necessary to the maintenance of authority,\nthat the Spanish minister told his king, \"Your Majesty's self is nothing\nbut a ceremonial;\"--etiquette so essential to the good order of society,\nthat not even the most unpolished reunion subsists without it: these are\nbut modes of expressing meaning by signs. In war, in politics, in civil\ncontracts, in common life, men universally thus express themselves; and\nwhy not in religion? Those who quarrel with the shadow are angry with\nthe substance that throws it.\n\nI said to M. Breugne, \"Have compassion on me. It is not my fault that I\ndid not know you sooner, but a great misfortune it has proved to me: you\nmight have saved my elder son. You would not have allowed the younger to\nperish under your eyes.\" Breugne said, \"What you have suffered is\nhorrible. On the second day of my visit to your younger son, I met at\nthe door the coffin of the elder. Do not let us despair as long as your\ndear boy has life. I will not deceive you; you shall know of his state\nall I know myself.\" He gave me to understand that he wished me to\ndetermine the number of his visits each day, being unwilling, as I\nsupposed, to appear desirous of making up by their frequency for the\nsmallness of the fee usually given to French physicians. I said, \"Save\nmy son; spare no pains that may be necessary to that end: come as often\nas your visits may be of use to him.\" He said, \"From the first I have\nfixed on a plan in regard to him, which I shall not have occasion to\nchange: that plan will succeed, or nothing will. So many days have been\nlost, that he must have as much both of nourishment and medicine as he\ncan take with advantage; but I must watch him very attentively to find\nout the quantity of both, that he may be able in his weak state to bear\nand to profit by.\"\n\nNever was greater zeal, activity, and judgment exerted than by this\nworthy man: all was not more than enough; for never had human being such\na struggle for life as had this youth. His delirium inclined to stupor.\nFomentations of aromatic herbs were applied to the head; sinapism was\napplied to the soles of the feet and kept on for eight and forty hours;\nblisters were laid on the back and on the legs; yet it was with\ndifficulty that he could be awakened or excited to take nourishment or\nmedicines. In truth they were, for the most part, especially towards the\nconclusion of his illness, poured into his mouth and swallowed\ninstinctively, without an effort of the will. In this manner he took, by\ndessert-spoonfuls, more than a bottle of Malaga wine a day, and this for\nseveral days following. On the last three days of his illness, the\nquantity of musk administered was, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five grains.\nI mention these particulars for the purpose of showing how perilous was\nhis state. I have not medical knowledge enough to do justice to M.\nBreugne's treatment by any detail I could give of it.\n\nDuring these last three days the anxiety of Breugne was extreme. \"I\nsuspect by her uncertain answers to my questions, that the old garde\nmalade sleeps in the night: let Antoine sit up and watch the nurse. We\ndo not know precisely when the fever began, but it must soon end: the\nleast negligence may be fatal.\" At his first visits, early in the\nmorning, he used to ask the servants, \"Ou en sommes nous?\"[83] before he\nwould enter the chamber of the patient. Every thing portended his death.\nHis mother afterwards said to me, \"I had taken out the sheet to bury him\nin; it was as well for it to be ready.\" Breugne, though he could neither\nfeel nor give hope, would not despair, nor relax his efforts. An\nunfavourable symptom occurred,--the breaking out of red spots on the\nskin. \"It is all over,\" said I to Breugne; \"the little girl, whom I lost\nfifteen years ago, had the same appearance the day before she\ndied.\"--\"Il ne mourra pas pour cela;\"[84] and he did not die. On the\nsixteenth of October, in the evening, the fever left him. At this time,\nBreugne, after a careful examination, said, \"Il n'a rien--there is\nnothing the matter with him: but wait till to-morrow morning; it is too\nsoon yet for me to assure you of his safety.\"\n\nOn the morrow, Breugne pronounced him out of danger. It was pleasant to\nsee with what delight, with what affectionate exaltation, he\ncontemplated his patient, standing by his bed-side, taking snuff, and\nhardly refraining from tears. The patient, who had been too weak to say\nany thing the evening before, had now recovered a little strength and a\nlittle spirit of fun. \"Why does he not go away? He has made his visit.\"\nThis was said to me in English. Breugne asked the meaning: I told him,\nand then said in French, \"Let Mr. Breugne enjoy the view of the good he\nhas done.\" He did enjoy it most cordially and disinterestedly.\n\nNow came the difficulty to conceal from my restored and surviving son\nthe death of his brother. Our mourning dress was accounted for, by\ntelling him that an aunt of his mother's had died and left her a large\nlegacy; and he was amused by discussing and settling how the legacy\nshould be spent in Italy. Often has his mother turned aside to hide her\ntears while answering his inquiries after his brother, and while\nentering into details to make her accounts more credible. Such traits of\nheroism have been admired in a Roman matron: but heroism is more common\nthan is usually supposed. I said to him, \"Really we are very much\nobliged to you; but for our waiting for your recovery, we should now be\non our road to Italy.\"--\"And my brother? is he well enough for the\njourney?\" I was stupified, and unable so far to recover myself as to\ntell a falsehood. \"He will be no hindrance.\"\n\nA new alarm succeeded. Convalescence after such a malady, uncured for\nduring more than the first third of its period, was no easy matter. \"He\nwill die after all,\" said Breugne, \"of what the English physicians call\n_phthisis in toto corpore_. I order for him exactly the quantity of food\nthat may nourish him; for it is not by what we eat, but by what we can\nturn into nutriment, that the body is supported. The nurse has given him\nmore than enough, and the organs of nutrition cannot do their office\nwith what surcharges them. We must have him down stairs: that old witch\nmust not be left alone with him.\" He had in fact asked _Goody Grope_, as\nhe called her, to give him to eat; and she, after discharging her\nconscience by refusing, ended by complying. Breugne made me observe that\nhis pulse intermitted. I counted thirty-nine pulsations; the fortieth\nfailed. \"If he were descending into a malady,\"--I cannot well translate\nhis French, as he hesitated in the choice of his words,--\"I should call\nthe symptom fatal; but as he is rising from one, it may not be of such\nevil omen--mauvais augure.\"\n\nAn inference may hence be drawn of no small import in the conduct of\nlife. How pernicious it must be, even in health, to eat too much; since,\na case of debility supposed, a little quantity more than enough hindered\nthe nutritive effect of the food, and in truth very nearly proved fatal!\n\nMy son was now about to become again one of the family. Two days before\nthis took place, I told him that his brother was gone into the country,\nfor change of air, to the house of a friend whom I named. I anticipated\nby two days, lest the story should seem invented for the occasion. On\nthe first of November, he was carried down stairs on a mattress, and\nlaid on a sofa, while his bed was prepared in the cabinet by the side of\nthe salon. \"I will have him again put into bed as soon as possible,\"\nsaid Breugne; \"le lit est la force du malade.\"[85] His sisters were\nshocked at his appearance; terror overcame their joy; they seemed to\ndoubt whether he too had not died and come forth again from the grave:\nfor myself, I wondered where his muscles, veins, and arteries had\nretired, so complete seemed the adhesion of the skin to the bones. Three\ndays afterwards, asses milk was ordered and found to agree with him; and\nBreugne cried out exultingly, \"J'ai cinq sur sept pour moi.\"[86] This\nwas, however, but little more than two to one in his favour.\n\nMany awkward circumstances might have led him to suspect the death of\nhis brother. The secret was now to be kept by six or seven persons whose\nlooks betrayed it, although their tongues were silent: nay, silence was\nitself of all circumstances the most suspicious. I dictated a message to\nAntoine as from the Marquis de ----, with whom Kenelm was supposed to be\nliving in the country. This message was to convey a favourable account\nof his health, and Antoine was ordered to deliver it in the salon. He\nhad not courage to speak loud enough, and I made a sign to him to talk\nso as to be heard by _him_ in the cabinet: this gave him the air of one\nacting a part. The Marquis and Marquise entered soon after. This was\nunlucky: they could not have sent a message from their country-house\nwhile they were in the town. They approached the door of the cabinet. I\nsaid, \"Madame, you bring us good news from your campagne?\" Through pity\nor astonishment at my resolution, she had not the force to give any\nanswer.\n\nI said to M. Breugne, \"What am I to do? He suspects his brother's death:\nhe asked me yesterday, 'Why does he not write? is he not well enough to\nwrite?' The suspicion will irritate his feelings, and do him more harm\nthan the certainty.\" Breugne said, \"I will not take on myself the\nresponsibility of advising you; you must judge for yourself: you know\nhis character better than I do.\"\n\nOn the tenth of November I said to him, \"You have had the same illness\nas your brother, and have recovered from it. Your present illness is\nexcessive weakness owing to your having been so long neglected; there is\nno reason to fear the same--\" Incautiously in my perturbation I had gone\nfurther than I had intended to do at first. This was enough: the secret\nwas revealed, and we were relieved from this cruel embarrassment.\n\nFour weeks after the fever had left him, he was able to walk a few\nsteps. A month is sufficient for complete convalescence after the typhus\nin ordinary cases. On the twelfth of December he went out in a carriage.\nOn the twentieth I left my house for the purpose of selling my\nfurniture by auction, and went to the Hotel d'Europe for better air, and\nto be near the promenade. At this inn we staid ten days, till the\nstrength of the convalescent should be sufficiently restored to enable\nus to set out on our long-delayed journey. At length I engaged a\nvoiture, having most happily found one, as if made on purpose for my\nservice, new, well-built and warm, with stout horses, and a respectable\ncoachman.\n\nTo obtain a passport to quit France is a matter, not of difficulty, but\nof many formalities. The demandant must first make his application to\nthe municipality, stating his reasons for leaving the kingdom, the\ncountry to which he is going, and the point at which he means to quit\nFrance. The municipality notifies these particulars to the prefect, who\naddresses himself to the minister for foreign affairs, who, after due\nperquisition at the legation of the country of the demandant, if a\nforeigner, (for the same formalities, this inquiry excepted only, are\nobserved in regard to the French themselves,) authorizes the prefect to\ngrant the passport required. I stated that I was going to Nice to\nrestore the health of my son and of my afflicted family. All that family\nhad made frequent visits to the tomb of Henry Kenelm, except his\nbrother, whose visit was to be one of farewell on the day before our\ndeparture from Avignon, which was now fixed for the last of the year. On\nthe 30th of December, a funeral was to take place at two in the\nafternoon: the hour suited, and we were willing, as requested, to take\nthat opportunity of finding the gate of the cemetery open. We went to\nthe cemetery at the appointed hour; the funeral was delayed till after\nsunset: it would have been dangerous, for one whose health was so\nimperfectly established, to wait longer, and expose himself to the cold\nof the evening; and he quitted this city of death without being able to\npay his last duties at the tomb of a beloved brother.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[82] Sir, you must not do that: the tapers connect the family with what\nis doing in the church.\n\n[83] Whereabouts are we?\n\n[84] He will not die for that.\n\n[85] Bed is the strength of a sick person.\n\n[86] I have five to seven for me.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XX.\n\n\nI have mentioned the strong emotion which I felt in passing through the\nvillage of St. Clair betwixt Rouen and Pontoise, as also the surprise\nexcited by the view of the features of an infant Jesus drawn by my\ndeparted son immediately after his return from England. It is now the\nproper time to explain to what I then referred. In saying that I alluded\nto a _dream_, I know that I expose myself to ridicule: to pay regard to\ndreams is justly considered as a sign of imbecillity of mind, and\ngenerally condemned as superstitious: how far I may be exempted from\nthese censures by the prophetic nature of my dream, I leave to be\ndetermined by those who shall compare it with the events lately\nnarrated, which seem to me to form a striking and full interpretation of\nit. I no more affect the character of a dreamer, than that of a\nvisionary: but I am not deterred, by the fear of being laughed at, from\nbelieving, in the case of the _vision_, the evidence of my senses, and\nthat a dream, portraying things future, ought to be distinguished from\nthe ordinary phenomena of that inexplicable faculty, (if that which is\ninvoluntarily exercised may be called a faculty,) of our fearful and\nwonderful nature.\n\nOn Thursday, the 27th of November, 1817, being then at Lincoln, I\ndreamed that I was in a large, lofty room, which was entirely unknown to\nme.\n\nIn the month of October, 1818, I hired a house at Avignon in which was a\nsalon, exactly resembling that of the dream; the situation of the doors,\nwindows, and chimney, and the appearance of them just the same.\n\nA person came out of the cabinet by the side of this salon, with whom I\nwas unacquainted, but whom I supposed to be an English catholic priest:\nhe wore a black coat, and had boots on: I did not observe that he had\nwith him any hat: he was of rather less than the middle age of life.\n\nThis person resembled in features and expression of countenance the\ninfant Jesus drawn, three years afterwards, by my elder son: my\nrecollection did not serve me to recognise the likeness till after I had\nseen my son's _drawing_ from the _engraving_: in the cabinet,\nbefore-mentioned, was usually hung a small crucifix.\n\nThis priest approached me in a serious, but civil and friendly manner:\ntwo chairs were near us, not far from one of the windows: I invited him\nto be seated.\n\nThe chairs were like those I had at Avignon; they were placed near the\nwindow: had this scene been represented as in the winter season, they\nwould have been near the fire: it was in the summer season that the\nevents occurred, which I suppose to have been now presignified. As it\nwas I who invited the other to sit down, it seems that I thought myself\nto be in my own house.\n\nThe priest then said to me, in a slow and distinct voice, \"You are to\nfound a new order in the church, to be called 'The Society of the\nPenitents of St. Clair;' you know under what rule; but not _sub\npeccato_;\" he repeated \"not _sub peccato_,\" and, rising from his seat,\ntook out his watch, an ordinary silver watch with small seals, looked at\nit, and returned it to its place: then taking leave of me, he passed,\nnot through the door of the stairs, but into the second salon.\n\nWhen the priest said, \"You know the rule,\" I understood to what he\nreferred, without further explanation oh his part. When much younger\nthan I was at this epoch, I had thought of a rule of life, on the\nobservance of which it might be useful and desirable to form a society:\nbut I never had the presumption to conceive the idea of founding a new\norder in the church. I will confess, so little were my dispositions at\nthis time penitential, that when the word \"penitents\" was pronounced, it\nwas to me displeasing and repulsive. I had regarded the rule which the\npriest said, \"you know,\" with a view to bodily health and temporal\nconvenience, not with any reference to religious mortification. I had\nnot thought of the rule for many years past, and had always considered\nthe formation of a society on the rule as an impracticable project. St.\nClair's name was unknown to me till I referred to \"Butler's Lives of the\nSaints.\" I had read of Sta. Clara, but was perfectly sure it was not she\nthat was intended.\n\nWhen the priest had left the room, I saw, seated and eating at a large\nround table, placed, not in the centre, but towards one side of the\nroom, a young man, whom I went up to, and conversed with: he talked to\nme of his sins, and his penitential dispositions, and wept much: I asked\nhim if he would observe the rule of the society, not telling him what it\nwas, but supposing him to know it: he answered in the affirmative, but\nhesitatingly, as if he knew he should be prevented. His dress perplexed\nme; it was white, loose over his shoulders and before him; without\ncoat, vest, or waistcoat; he seemed to have nothing on but this\nshapeless white mantle, and his shirt. He rose suddenly from the table\nat which he had continued to sit while talking with me: his long white\nrobe flowed behind him: he gathered it up round his knees as he went\naway, and passed through the door, and hastily down stairs.\n\nI had no such table in England as this here described, but I had such an\none at Avignon. I have remarked in my narrative, that, on the day of my\nson's death, this table was pushed aside to make room for the sofa\nturned from the light by desire of my younger son. I have spoken of the\nscruples of my elder son, and of the distress and uneasiness they caused\nboth to him and to me. The dress of the young man with whom I conversed\nin my dream, was, in truth, (though then I knew it not, and had been\naccustomed to see another sort of mortuary clothing,) the habiliments of\nthe dead in France.\n\nI followed this young man to the top of the stairs: my family, or\npersons whom I considered as such, were behind me: the staircase was\nwinding in such a manner that we could not see to the bottom of the\nstairs; where we stood was a staircase to the second floor on the left\nhand; a window to the right: all this as at Avignon.\n\nAs I stood looking down the stairs, my younger son said to me, \"I'll go\nafter him:\" accordingly he went quickly down the stairs. At this\ninterval, looking through the window, I saw a most beautiful garden,\nwith fruit-trees, and a light as of the reflection of the brightest\nsunshine: it was reflected sunshine; the window is to the north. My\nyounger son came up stairs again, and standing by me, but turning to\nlook down stairs, and then turning to look at me, said, \"He is gone.\"\n\nI have related that, on the day of the death of my elder son, the\nyounger took to his bed, ill of the same typhus fever; and that, during\nhis illness, that supernatural light was seen which assured us of the\nhappy state of the elder. The face of my younger, when he spoke to me in\nthe dream, was nearly on a level with mine: at the age at which he was\nat the time of the dream in 1817, he was not higher than my shoulder;\nsoon after his illness, he grew to be taller than me, but in 1821 his\nstature was such as it appeared in my dream.\n\nWe returned into the room: those who had followed me to the top of the\nstairs were in deep mourning, and it was understood we were about to\nundertake a long journey. We set off for Italy at the end of the year,\nthe eventful year 1821.\n\nI awoke, and found it was near eight o'clock in the morning.\n\nThe scenes exhibited in this dream, and the events prefigured by it,\naccording to my interpretation, are here set in juxtaposition: the\nimpression it made on my apprehension was lively and distinct as reality\nitself. I relate it, because it is immediately connected with the\nsubject of my narrative. In the rule referred to by my imaginary\ninterlocutor there is nothing that I desire to keep secret, but to\nexplain it at this time might be foreign to my purpose: besides,\nquicquid recipitur, recipitur ad modum recipientis; and I should be loth\nto intrude on any what they may not be willing to read. Dr. Johnson\nsaid, \"There is often more in the title than in all the rest of the\nbook;\" but it may be unfair to put into a book what cannot in any wise\nbe augured from the title. Yet, as the rule was enjoined in a dream\nwhich had relation to my story, as the knowledge of the rule may help to\nform an opinion of the nature and character of the dream itself, and as\nmoreover it may be told in very few words, I will here declare it.\n\nThe three great enemies of youth and of mankind,--the three chief\nsources of moral evil, of intellectual debility and derangement, and of\ncorporal sufferance--are, sins against chastity, drunkenness, and\ngaming. Early in life, I made this observation; let any one, who doubts\nthe truth of it, cast his eyes on the world. Dr. Cheyne's works \"on\nhealth\" and \"on regimen,\" had persuaded me that animal food was\npernicious to health and to all the faculties and dispositions which\ndepend on health: it excites and gratifies the appetite to such a\ndegree, that few, very few, feed upon it without gluttony. Let any one\nthen observe chastity--abstain from animal food, and from wine and\nvinous spirits, renounce all play for money, or engaging stakes on\nhazard, and he will conform to the rule \"of the penitents of St. Clair.\"\n\nWhen the priest said, and repeated, \"not sub peccato,\" I of course\nunderstood him to mean, not that chastity was not of precept and\nobligatory on all as a Christian and moral virtue, but that sins against\nit should not be aggravated by being an infraction of the rule. The\nother parts of the rule regard things in themselves indifferent: among\nthe several persons whom I have known that abstained from animal food,\nsome there were who did so as believing it unlawful to take away life:\nI admired their practice, but disapproved their reasoning; the Author\nof Life has himself permitted it: on that ground it is justifiable;\nthough it might be an amusing question, whence they who disbelieve all\nrevelation derive authority to put to death these creatures except in\ncase of self-defence, as when attacked by a bear or a tiger. The\nmoderate use of alcohol is lawful, medicinal even; to interest and amuse\nourselves by engaging a moderate stake on hazard is perfectly innocent;\nbut he who renounces vinous spirits and gaming, strikes at the root of\nmany mischiefs and many perturbations.\n\nWhat I have related, I have related as it happened: the dream and the\nreference in the dream to my opinions, could neither be sought for, nor\nprocured, nor prepared by any act of mine: my opinions here recorded\nhave this merit, that, according to our Lincolnshire phraseology, \"they\nwon't do nobody no harm,\" and this is merit enough; merit, not negative,\nbut positive; for the phrase always implies the expectation of a great\nbenefit. In the hope that they may do somebody some good, I leave the\nmatter to favourable or unfavourable acceptation; and prepare to narrate\nmy journey to Nice,--that delicious climate, where is,\n\n ----ver perpetuum atque alienis mensibus aestas.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXI.\n\n\nWe drove out of the western gate of Avignon, and immediately turned to\nthe left hand. I said mentally, \"Adieu, my dear son! may I and all this\nfamily be reunited to thee in a better world.\" During the last six weeks\nwe had in some degree recovered from the terror and affliction of the\npreceding period; but a final separation from him we so tenderly and\ndeservedly loved struck us with a feeling of depression, which we\nendeavoured to surmount and disguise from each other lest the grief of\none should be the grief of all. \"Are you well seated? do you feel any\ncold?\" and soon after, \"How far is it to the bridge of the Durance?\" by\nsuch questions we tried in vain to conceal what the looks of all\nbetrayed. It was a relief to us to arrive at a country we had not yet\nseen.\n\nAntoine accompanied us: in the year 1813, the year following the\ncampaign of Moscow, being then of the age for military service, he had\nbeen summoned to leave his native plains of Picardy to fight under the\nbanners of Napoleon in the campaign of Dresden. \"Vous l'avez vu,\nl'Empereur?\" he was asked. \"Oui.\"--\"Ou donc?\"--\"Sur le champ de bataille\nsans doute.\"[87] Antoine was one of those raw recruits, who, as Napoleon\ndeclared, fought more bravely than any men he had ever seen to fight\nduring seventeen years, that he had commanded the armies of France.\nAfter the battles of Lutzen and Bautzen, Antoine was taken prisoner by\nthe Austrians in an affair near Dresden, and sent into the interior of\ntheir country. \"Into what part of their country?\" I inquired of him. \"I\ndo not know.\" I, in my quality of inquisitive traveller, expressed\nsurprise at his want of curiosity, and asked the names of the principal\ntowns he had past through. \"Obliged to climb great hills, loaded like a\nmule, huddled with my comrades at night, into a grenier, I had something\nelse to do than to amuse myself with inquiring the names of towns: I do,\nhowever, remember that one town we were taken to was called Pest.\" It\nmay be inferred that the hills he climbed were the Carpathian\nmountains. If the English public should find that they are overwhelmed\nby \"Tours,\" and \"Travels,\" and \"France,\" and \"Italy,\" they have nothing\nto do but to send us all abroad with knapsacks on our backs. Fiat\nexperimentum. Antoine was headstrong and full of jests, but faithful,\nhonest, and attached. I think I pay him a great compliment when I say he\nresembled in character a Milesian Irishman.\n\nOn account of our invalid, we were to travel by easy journeys: Aix was\ntoo far off for one day. We slept at Orgon, the half-way house, an\nill-built inn, where we found good fires, good cooking, and good beds.\nThe next morning the frost had set in: I hurried the invalid into the\ncoach, and we turned our backs on the bise. Where we stopt at mid-day my\nchildren began to show some little expansion of good spirits: it was\nNew-year's-day, and this calculation seemed to make the day different\nfrom those that had gone before. Their attempts at renewed hilarity\nmanifested themselves in fantastical disputes about their repast. We had\ntaken tea and coffee in the morning: I required a repetition of it: some\ndisliked the same thing over again; some wanted fruit and their usual\nmid-day dessert; others \"would have a dejeune a la fourchette.\" It\nended by ordering all that was asked for by all.\n\nAt Orgon we passed through a room of the inn, of which the windows were\nbroken. The door of our room could neither be shut nor opened without\ntrouble and loss of time: such are \"the miseries of human life\" in a\nfine climate: in England these inconveniences would not be endured for\nan hour in the winter: the glazier would be sent for in case of a broken\npane as surely as water would be called for if the house were on fire. I\nhave been assured that, if one could be contented to pass the winter\nwithout stirring out of doors, he would feel less cold at St.\nPetersburgh than any where else in Europe. Where nature does least for\nman, man does most for himself. Ananas or pine-apples are reared at\nArchangel: I saw none in the south of France or Tuscany. Our anomalous\nrepast detained us too long, and it was almost dark when we arrived, at\nfive o'clock, at a handsome, palace-like-looking inn, on the Corso at\nAix.\n\nIt is a pleasant, airy, well-built town, so surrounded by hills, that,\nin our walks next morning, we felt no cold. I expected to find hot baths\nhere, but was somewhat surprised to see a great basin of hot water in\nthe Corso, at which, as well as at other fountains in different parts of\nthe town, the washer-women ply their trade without the expense of fuel:\nclean linen may here be called, by a perverted application of Burke's\nphrase, \"the unbought grace of life.\" The public baths are not so\nconvenient nor on so large a scale as I expected. We took a cursory view\nof Roman remains of Aquae Sextiae. To the cathedral, a fine old structure,\nis annexed a curious and perfect ancient temple which serves as the\nbaptistery.\n\nIn the afternoon of this day we proceeded to Marseilles. I drove to the\nHotel Beauveau: they showed me two handsome salons, one of them with two\nbeds in it: I wanted more beds in the other salon, which they promised\nto put up: I doubted what sort of beds these might be, and, in an\nunlucky moment of distrust, went away to the Hotel des Empereurs. Every\nthing at the Hotel Beauveau bespoke civility and good management; at the\nHotel des Empereurs every thing was quite the reverse. I had intended to\npass a week at Marseilles: the badness of this inn determined me to stay\nbut one whole day. That day was excessively cold; the bise had followed\nus, and had established itself in full force: I trembled for my\ninvalid; he was in high spirits, and would not stay within doors; he\nwas in the right, for it would have been impossible to make the\natmosphere within doors warmer than it was without, unless we had made\nfires of all the fine pieces of mahogany furniture which garnished our\napartment.\n\nI endeavour to make my accounts of towns and objects of curiosity ample\nenough for those who are not acquainted with them, and not too long for\nthose who are: I may fail of both the ends proposed; a common result of\n_mean_ measures: but I proceed, though I well know that a writer more\nfrequently meets with censure than indulgence: if self-love prompts him\nto write, woe be to the poor author. My motive for writing may perhaps\nby this time be guessed at, and will form an item of additional\nreproach.\n\nMarseilles, except that it is built of stone, (a circumstance hardly\nnecessary to be particularized in a country where bricks are almost\nunknown,) is very like Liverpool, a _nucleus_ of trade and dirt,\nsurrounded by handsome, airy, well-built streets: it is more populous\nthan Liverpool, but does not cover so much ground. The port is admirably\nsecure: a few days before our arrival, a tremendous storm had committed\nvery great ravages along the whole coast from Spain to the gulf of\nSpezia. The shipping in the harbour of Marseilles had continued\nperfectly sheltered and unhurt, while, on the Genoese coast, vessels had\nbeen driven from their anchors, and stranded. On one side of the port\nare lofty warehouses; on the other, rich and splendid shops. The Hotel\nde Ville is a very handsome building, with a magnificent marble\nstaircase, too grand indeed for the rooms to which it leads. The\ncelebrated picture of the plague seems to have derived its fame from the\ninterest excited by its subject: it is well executed, but without\nperspective; the people are dying all up the wall of canvass; the\narchbishop, M. de Belzunce, is, of course, a prominent object. His\nnephew, chief of the department for provisioning Paris, was, at the\nbeginning of the revolution, the first victim of the fury of the\nParisian mob, and \"Belzuncer quelqu'un,\" was for some little time a\nfavourite form of menace, or of boast; but the name was soon lost in a\ncrowd of followers. They showed us, what they thought it would give us\ngreat amusement to see, the room in which is performed the civil\ncontract of marriage before the municipality: what pleasure they\nexpected us to derive from the sight I cannot tell. In another room is a\nportrait of Louis XIV at full length, in armour, with a fine flowing\nwig: this costume did not then appear so absurd as now it does; besides\nhis wig was, to Louis XIV, essential and individual; he never was seen\nwithout it; at night he gave it to his page, in the morning he received\nit from his page, through the curtains of his bed. An academy of\npainting and sculpture had lately been instituted, which seemed\nprosperous; as much so as such an institution is likely to be in any\nother town than the capital. More attention seems to be paid in France\nto the fine arts than to literature. The members of the five hundred\nbook-clubs of England will be surprised to learn that, as far as my\ninformation reaches, no similar establishment exists in France.\n\nWe were told, as usual in such cases, of other objects of curiosity; but\nsome were too distant. Of those which we had visited, some had not been\nworth the pains, and we feared that others might disappoint us equally.\nWe had put off hunger by eating some excellent confectionary, but our\ndinner was ordered to be ready as soon as it should be dark, and the\nmistress of the Empereurs,--there is no scandal in the title; she was\nnot such for her beauty. In plain English, our landlady, had promised us\na good dinner to make amends for the bad one of the day before, for\nwhich she had offered an excuse, which I had rejected as unworthy of a\ngreat inn in a great city,--that she was not prepared. We now hoped to\nbenefit by her preparations. The fish was excellent, thanks to the sea\nat hand: the meat, had it made part of our hesternal meal, would not\nhave advanced so near to putridity: besides, it was raw. Say what you\nwill, you cannot persuade a foreign cook but that the English like raw\nmeat; so that we were obliged to accept it as a mark of deference to our\nnational taste. The fowls--this day there had been time to search the\nmarket for the worst. A dish of douceur followed, which made me regret\nthe batter pudding and Lincolnshire dip, composed of coarse sugar,\nmelted butter, and vinegar, which I had enjoyed when a school-boy. The\nwine was sour; they told me it was _vin ordinaire_; I asked for some\n_extraordinaire_; it was extraordinarily bad: it is good logic in this\ncase, as well as in others, to argue from universals to particulars.\nIndeed, it is as rare to meet with good wine at an inn in France, as at\nan inn in England; in which latter country, as a Frenchman told me, they\ngot drunk with \"vins etrangers.\"[88] On this occasion, I _blinked_ the\nquestion of English ebriety, by saying that if they got drunk with\nwine, they must do so with \"vin etranger,\" as they had none of their\nown: but foreign wine is as much a luxury in France as if that country\nwas not under the patronage of the jolly god.\n\nAt the Hotel des Empereurs,--for, notwithstanding this digression, I am,\nto my sorrow, still there,--I asked in the evening for pen and ink: they\nbrought me a pen and some ink in a little phial, with an intimation that\nit cost three sous.\n\nMy reader will, I hope, do me the justice to observe that I have arrived\nat the shores of the Mediterranean without having made any complaint in\ndetail of grievances endured at any inn. I flatter myself that I am in\nthis respect a singular instance of patience and moderation. I have been\ndesirous of giving one example of my talent in this way, and promise\nhenceforward to forbear. Cuges was our next sleeping place, Toulon, like\nAix, being too far for a day's journey. Cuges is a little town with a\ntolerable inn. Here the weather changed to rain; the air became mild,\nand, for this season, we took leave of winter on the third of January.\n\nWe were now on the road to Toulon. I have travelled over the Highlands\nof Scotland, over the hills of Derbyshire, and those which separate\nLancashire from the counties to the eastward of it; countries well worth\nvisiting by those who seek for the wonders of nature further from home;\nbut in this day's journey, all that I had before seen in the same kind\nwas exceeded. The picturesque rises into the romantic, and the romantic\ninto the savage. We passed through gullies, where the torrent-river that\nran by the side of the road seemed not merely to have formed, but to\nhave scooped out for itself a passage under rocks which, at a great\nheight above, overhung the road and the torrent, and threatened to fall\nin and fill up the narrow space below. Day-light descended to us through\nan irregular ragged fissure, which seemed as if broken through expressly\nfor the purpose, so nearly did this defile resemble an under-ground\npassage. At last we emerged from clefts and chasms into an open space,\nand had a view of Toulon before us. As we entered the town, we saw, in\nsome sheltered spots, orange-trees, in full bearing, in the open earth:\nin the open air they are seen in Paris; planted in boxes, they bear\nfruit at Avignon; here they are children of the soil.\n\nWe were pleased with Toulon, and loitered here two whole days. The town,\nthough a fortress, is a pretty and a cheerful-looking place. The\nstreams of water conducted through the streets, give it an air of\nhealthiness and cleanliness. In the evening we braved on the promenade\nthe cannon of the fortifications, and, our love of science being equal\nto our courage, visited the botanical garden, very wisely provided here\nby the government: it is much smaller than that of Paris; but, by the\nhelp of the climate, surpasses it in the possession of rare exotics.\nSome traveller (I think Eustace,) says that palm-trees are not to be\nfound in the open air any where to the north of Rome, and that at Rome\nthere are but two, remarkably placed on a hill visible to the whole\ncity: these two I saw not, and I saw palm-trees in the botanical garden\nat Toulon.\n\nThe next day was Sunday: it was passed in viewing the town and its\nimmediate environs, and in pour-parleys about a visit to the arsenal: a\nticket for this purpose was offered on condition that we should pass\nourselves for French. Besides the disagreeable consequences that might\njustly have followed the discovery of such an imposition, the trick\nitself appeared to me dishonourable.\n\nThe next morning my convalescent, now rapidly recovering health and\nstrength, mounted the heights above Toulon, and, placing himself under\nthe shelter of a ruined building, sketched the scene before him. The\nelevation gave us almost a bird's-eye view of Toulon and its ports:\nislands or promontories that, on account of the winding of the shore,\nlooked like islands, were seen at a distance. Nothing ever called up to\nmy imagination and memory such a crowd of ideas and recollections, as\ndid the view of this great inland sea which washes the shores of Greece,\ninto which the waters of the Nile discharge themselves, and which\nreposes at the foot of Lebanon and Carmel. We were at this time\n\n Fill'd with ideas of fair Italy,\n\nand it lay but a little on our left-hand. In a few months we shall be\nthere.\n\nI had purposed to visit Hyeres, about six miles distant, but was\ndeterred by what was told me of the badness of the road: it is a winter\ncolony planted by the English, a sort of succursal to Nice. It has not\nthe advantage of being near the sea, but is at three miles from it. I\nhave met with those who have wintered there with much satisfaction. Many\nlodging-houses had lately been _run up_ for visitants.\n\nIn the afternoon of the third day we left Toulon. The next day brought\nus to the point where the cross-road from Toulon joins that which leads\ndirectly from Aix to Nice. The inns were better, but the roads were\nstill bad. \"It is not for want of money,\" said they; \"government\nsupplies that in plenty; mais l'ingenieur donne a manger a l'inspecteur,\net tout est fini.\"[89] At Frejus I wished to take a hasty dinner, as we\nhad to pass the foret d'Estrelles: they kept me waiting for it two hours\nand a half; in this time I might have examined the aqueducts and other\nantiquities, which I saw only in passing. The aqueducts seemed more\nruined than those of Rome, but in other respects as like as one arch is\nto another arch of the same span. The foret d'Estrelles exhibits all the\ngrandeur of the Alps united with all the beauty of cultivation, every\nvariety of prospect, hill and dale, and wood, and rock, and the distant\nsea.\n\nSo much did we enjoy the scene before and around us, that we thought but\nlittle of the danger that awaited us. A river was to be crossed before\nwe could reach Cannes; we had received some intimation that it was\nprobable the bridge was broken down by the swell occasioned by the\nlate rains: our coachman was well aware that the bridges of this\ncountry were usually insecure; \"When they tumble down,\" said he, \"they\nbuild them up again.\" On descending the foret d'Estrelles, which it had\ntaken us three hours to mount and to pass, certain information was given\nus, that the bridge had been carried away; \"but, if your horses are\nstout, there will be no danger in fording the river.\" We had lost time\nat Frejus, as always happens when time is wanted, or as is always then\nobserved to happen, and were too late by half an hour. It was so nearly\ndark when we arrived at the river, that the coachman, following the\nroad, hardly perceived when he reached the place where the bridge had\nbeen; the horses stopped however of themselves.\n\nWe got out of the carriage, while it was turned off the road, towards\nthe ford. At this moment Antoine launched some jest or other, which\nprovoked me to say, \"Vous plaisantez tout a votre aise: vous etes\nseul.\"--\"Moi seul? Ai-je merite cela?\"[90] He felt the reproach as\nunjust, and so did I, and made my excuses; he admitted that his\npleasantry was unseasonable; and we proceeded to cross the ford, having\ngot some peasants to help us. My eldest daughter and I were in the\ncabriolet, the rest of the family in the coach, Antoine on the\ncoachman's seat. The bank by which we went down into the river was not\nsteep; but, in ascending the opposite bank, I felt the carriage to be\nbalanced in such a way that I fully expected it to fall sideways before\nit could get clear out of the water; it required all the force of\nAntoine and the peasants, pulling at a rope tied to the carriage, to\nprevent this, and keep it on all its wheels. It was a fearful moment. It\nwas not likely that any lives would be lost, so much help was at hand;\nbut what evil might be the consequence of an overthrow in the\nwater,--especially to one who had but just recovered from three months'\nillness!\n\nWhen we had got on solid ground and reached the road again, we found\nlarge blocks of stone, for the reparation of the bridge, lying in the\nway: we were again obliged to dismount and thread our way through the\nmidst of these as well as we could, while the carriage went over uneven\nground by the side of the road. The moon rose as we reached the inn at\nCannes, thankful to that good Providence which had delivered us from\ndanger. This danger was not in crossing the stream, for the waters had\nabated since they had carried away the bridge, and did not come up to\nthe bottom of the coach: the bed of the river too was good road; a cart\ncame across just before we went in; but in climbing the steep bank, had\nnot Antoine, who had leaped from his seat over the horses' backs, and\nthe peasants who had waded through the river, held the rope very\nsteadily in the direction opposite to that to which the coach inclined,\nit must inevitably have fallen. When the fore-wheels got on the bank, I\nwas so satisfied, though still alarmed, that I would almost have\ncompounded for an overturn on dry land; the coachman, however, who\nconducted himself perfectly well, \"as a man and a minister,\" had the\npleasure of saving from scaith and harm both his fare and equipage.\n\nThe sea dashed on the shore close under the windows of our apartment at\nCannes; we saw the reflection of the moon-light on the rippling waves;\nthe climate seemed still to improve; after mutual congratulation, and a\ncheerful meal, we retired contentedly to rest.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[87] \"Have you seen the Emperor?\"--\"Yes.\"--\"Where?\"--\"On the field of\nbattle, of course.\"\n\n[88] Foreign wines.\n\n[89] But the engineer gives a dinner to the inspector, and all is ended.\n\n[90] \"You are joking very composedly; you are alone.\"--\"Me alone? have I\ndeserved that?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXII.\n\n\nIt had been my plan to make this journey resemble as much as possible an\nexcursion of pleasure and curiosity, in the hope of doing away the\nmelancholy impression of our sufferings and prison at Avignon. I said to\nmy family at Cannes, \"It is ten leagues to Nice, but we will not make a\ntoil of it; we will divide the rest of our journey into two days, taking\nan airing of fifteen miles each day before dinner.\" My agreement with my\ncoachman admitted of this arrangement; I was to pay him thirty francs a\nday for each day of journey; eighteen francs for a day of rest; and\ntwenty-five francs a day for the six days required for his own return,\nby the direct road to Avignon. He agreed to consider the two days to be\nemployed in going ten leagues, as one day of advance and one of repose.\n\nAfter breakfast we basked on the sunny sandbank that rises from the\nshore, and gathered sea-shells. By the by, Scipio and Laelius must have\nhad very bad sport in this way; for the Mediterranean, having no tide,\nbrings up very few of these pretty baubles; no wonder that they took to\nducks and drakes, as a supplementary recreation. We went to the little\ntown of Cannes, and saw a rope tied to the bell in the tower of the\nchurch, and, most commodiously for the priest, conducted into his house\nclose by: \"With that,\" said Antoine, \"M. le Cure sonne les sourds.\"[91]\nI met a very old man who asked for alms; I was in a disposition, not\nonly to grant his request, but to enter into conversation with him, and\ninquired of him how old he was: \"Quel age avez-vous?\"[92] The words were\nperfectly unintelligible to him. A lad of twelve years old, who had\nheard the question, volunteered as interpreter: \"Quanti anni ai?\" said\nhe to the old man; and yet we were not in Italy. I have had frequent\noccasion to remark that the language of France, as that country draws\nnear to Germany, Italy, or Spain, is shadowed off into the dialect of\nthose three great limitrophe nations: on the frontiers of every\ncontinental nation, the same gradual melting of the languages of\nneighbouring people into each other must necessarily take place. In\nEngland, I believe the _patois_ of the several districts to have been\nderived from the divisions of the Saxon Heptarchy; the midland\ncounties, or kingdom of Mercia, have nearly the same dialect; but the\nlanguage of Oxfordshire begins to resemble that of the west; while that\nof Lincolnshire, (a proof of my skill in which I have already given,) is\nlike that of Yorkshire, except in the pronunciation of the vowels. We\nset off at mid-day.\n\nOur road lay on a low cliff near the sea. Antoine, who had crossed the\nRhine, the Elbe, the Danube, and the Rhone, had never seen the sea till\nhe came on this journey: he persisted in calling it the Rhone, and \"this\nRhone,\" said he, \"goes to England.\" \"Yes,\" said I, \"and to the other side\nof France: you may embark on this Rhone, and land at Calais in Picardy,\nyour own country.\" He called it the Rhone, by the name of the last great\nriver he had seen; as I have read somewhere that the dispersed tribes\nafter the Deluge called every great river they came to, \"Phraat,\"\n\"Euphrates.\" I know not what idea was working in Antoine's mind: perhaps\nit is natural to man to regard the sea as a river: it is to be presumed\nthat Homer so considered it, since, after mentioning the names of a few\nof the great rivers known in his limited geography, he adds,\n\n [Greek: Oude bathurreitao mega sthenos okeanoio.].\n\nI remember mentioning this opinion of Homer to Archdeacon Paley. \"Why,\"\nsaid he, \"that is the modern theory of the tides; that the ocean is\nnothing else but a great river, and that the tides are the current of\nthis river, which, having no where else to flow, flows into and upon\nitself.\"--\"Strange,\" said I, \"that the extremes of ignorance and science\nshould thus meet!\" I made an objection to the theory on account of the\nincrease and decrease of the tides according to the age of the moon: I\nforget his reply: he had not proposed the notion as his own, and had no\nneed to defend it as such.\n\nAfter proceeding about two miles, we perceived a large stone reared\nupright on the beach: this rude pillar marked the landing-place of\nNapoleon from Elba.\n\nI care nothing about politics: I am of the opinion of Plato, that\nmankind are not worthy that a wise man, (meaning himself or me,) should\nmeddle with their affairs: the history of the last war I read with the\nsame temper as I should read that of the three Punic or the\nPeloponnesian: I will remark only that, if Napoleon was not to be\ntrusted, it was very silly to leave him at Elba; and, if he was to be\ntrusted, he should have been treated as trust-worthy, and every vestige\nof resentment against him effaced, and nothing done that would make him\nfeel as if relegated into a little island, or give him reason to dread\nfurther restraint: that the importance of leaving to him the title of\nEmperor was not duly weighed; as it ought to have been evident, that, if\nnot honestly recognised by his enemies, this title would serve as a sign\nof rallying to his friends.\n\nThis Emperor on landing summoned the fortress of Antibes: the officer\ncommanding the garrison for the time, in the absence of his superior,\nreturned an answer that he had received no orders. I was personally\nacquainted with this officer; he was the general commanding the\ndepartment of Vaucluse during the former part of my residence at\nAvignon. Failing in this attempt on Antibes, Napoleon immediately struck\ninto the country over the hills covered with olive trees, the high land\nthat rises above the beach. We proceeded to Antibes, which opened its\ngate to us without any difficulty. We found a good inn, walked on the\nfortifications and about the town till sunset, and, after an English\nbreakfast the next morning, (for we carried tea with us,) on the\nthirteenth day after our departure from Avignon, set off for Nice: we\npassed through a pleasant country, and soon arrived at the right bank\nof the Var, the political, but not the natural limit of France.\n\nI had some thoughts of making an apology for calling my book a narrative\nof four years residence in France, when four months of that time were to\nbe passed out of that kingdom; but any one who will give himself the\ntrouble of coming to the banks of the Var, will see that all explanation\non this head is superfluous: or, if he does not like so much personal\nfatigue, let him place himself there in imagination: he will see the\nstony bed of a torrent half a mile broad, not a twentieth part of which\nbed is covered with water. At two thirds of the distance from the right\nbank he will see a stream large enough to be called a river, of no great\ndepth, but of great force and violence. Immediately beyond the left bank\nhe will see a fertile country resembling that he has just past, and\nuniting with it but for the expanse of white stones. Let him then cast\nhis eyes on the awful, frowning barrier of Italy,--those Alps with their\nrugged sides and lofty snow-covered tops, a barrier to all appearance\nimpervious to any thing but the flight of an eagle; he will allow that\nit would be as easy to bring the Alps themselves to the left bank of the\nVar, which, though they are but six miles off, would be an enterprise\nof toil, as to imagine that he had left France on entering the county of\nNice.\n\nWe had time given to us to enjoy this magnificent spectacle, and to\nfeast our minds with the expectation of what we should see beyond those\n\"perpetual hills,\" those \"everlasting mountains,\" which we already\nwished to pass. We waited for the douanier, the custom-house officer, a\ncivil and intelligent man, who had nothing to do with us but to\ncountersign our passport: the more we took out of France, the better for\nits manufacturers. It would not be difficult to prove,--Adam Smith has\nproved it,--that it would be as wise to permit unrestricted, I do not\nsay untaxed, importation as exportation, nor to show that the\nprohibition of it is an act of injustice towards the community at large;\nbut governments are balloted about by contending interests, and\ncompelled to interfere in things out of their province, alien from those\nobjects for which they are constituted.\n\nWhile the French were in possession of the Department des Alpes\nMaritimes, they began a stone bridge over the Var. The wall from which\nthe first arch was to spring is seen on their bank, and bears testimony\nto their zeal for improvement. We went on the wooden bridge, and passed\na pallisade guarded by French sentinels.\n\nWe were now in the dominions of the King of Sardinia. The first man I\nmet was an intendant or surveyor of the carpenters, whom I saw in great\nnumbers at work on the bridge. He accosted me: \"Monsieur, il faut\ndescendre de voiture, decharger la voiture, faire porter les malles et\nmener les chevaux, et traverser a pied le pont; il est en l'air,\nsuspendu par des cordes.\"[93] The invitation, though very civilly given,\nand with due regard to our safety as well as that of the bridge, was\nsomewhat alarming. The fact was that the storm of the twenty-seventh of\nDecember had come in time to make us regret that the bridge of stone,\nundertaken by the French had been left incomplete. This storm had broken\nthe wooden bridge, the parts of which were now tied together by cords\nwhile undergoing reparation; so that it was necessary to divide and\nlighten as much as possible the weight of our carriage. This was done;\nand, with this measure of precaution, each portion of our load got well\nover: yet I cannot help, in defiance of the proverb, speaking ill of the\nbridge. The Var is not a military barrier: why do not the two\ngovernments revive the abandoned enterprise of a stone bridge with a\ntete de pont and toll at each end?\n\nThe approach to Nice on this side is through a quarter consisting almost\nentirely of villas or country-houses let to visitants. The quarter is\ncalled \"de la Croix de Marbre,\" from a large marble crucifix placed at\nthe side of the road about a mile from Nice: it is situated lower, and\nis, in consequence, warmer than the town; but the ground floors of the\nhouses are sometimes flooded by rains. Here we began to see all the\npride, pomp, and circumstance of an English watering-place;--carriages\nopen and close; ladies riding on donkies; parties on foot and on\nhorseback; footmen lounging at the doors of the houses; and grooms\ndressing horses at the doors of the stables. We saw also orange trees\nladen with fruit. We arrived at a bridge over another white and stony\nbed of a torrent, in which we could hardly perceive any water; there was\na stream however over which people on foot were crossing by\nstepping-stones. We were set down at the Hotel des Etrangers,--an\nexcellent inn.\n\nThe next day I went to the police to take my carte de surete, or sejour,\nand was informed that there were at this time at Nice seventy foreign\nfamilies, of which forty families were English. I left my card at the\ncommandant's: he returned his card with a note, containing an invitation\nto a weekly ball at the Hotel du Gouvernement. A certain sum is allowed\nby the king for frais de reception. The acts of the government are in\nthe Italian language; but French is universally spoken, not only in\nsociety, but in the shops and in the streets. In truth, I did not hear a\nword of Italian spoken while I was at Nice, except by my children's\nItalian master. The people have a patois, not quite such pure Italian as\nI heard at Cannes.\n\nNot liking the quarter of the Croix de Marbre on account of its distance\nfrom the town, I took a house in an airy situation, looking towards the\nsea, and into the great square, at one time called Place Napoleon, but\nnow Place Victor. The usual price for a house or lodging for a large\nfamily for the whole of the season, from the first of November to the\nfirst of May, is a hundred louis. I agreed to pay for mine twelve\nhundred francs from the sixteenth of January to the end of the season.\nIts proprietor was a French general, who had served with great\nreputation in Italy and Egypt, had lost an arm, and had been appointed\ncommandant of Nice, where, second only to the prefet of the department,\nhe had given fetes and balls in this house, which he now found it\nconvenient to let, and live in a small one by the side of it. When the\nFrench troops evacuated Nice, a party of them wanted to pillage the\ntown; he had prevented this evil, and, as a reward for the service thus\nrendered, the King of Sardinia had permitted him to live in the city,\nwhen other French officers were, of course, obliged to leave it. He told\nme, \"I am not ashamed to say, that all that I have gained, I have gained\non the field of battle.\" That all was not much,--his half-pay as\ngeneral, and the appointment annexed to the cross of the legion of\nhonour. When colonel, he had received a sabre d'honneur, to which a\npension of six thousand francs was attached; but the pension had been\nwithdrawn. He still was able to show the sabre; it was an ordinary arm,\nwith an inscription on it. He was an Alsatian by birth, and talked with\nthe accent of his country, saying of his former commander, whom he\nenthusiastically admired, \"Ponaparte etoit un crant sheneral.\" His\nconversation and anecdotes were amusing.\n\nIt was now the beginning of Carnival. Our recent loss left us no\ndisposition, and our mourning dress made it unsuitable for us, to appear\nin large societies. I used to go, without any of my family, and stay for\nabout an hour at those parties to which we were invited, that I might\nnot be wanting to attentions thus paid us. Promenades in the delightful\nenvirons of Nice, lessons in music and Italian, and small companies in\nthe evening, occupied and amused us till the beginning of Lent. Balls\nwere then succeeded by concerts: even the gay were serious, and sadness\nmight partake of the sober diversions then going forwards. The daily\nimproving health and increasing strength of our convalescent gave us\ncontinual satisfaction; and, though our abode at Nice was as dull as a\nsojourn under such a sky can be supposed to be, yet we were contented to\nperceive that we did not fail of the main purpose for which we had fled\nthe rough blasts of the north, and sought the soft breezes of this\nsheltered situation and genial climate.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[91] With that M. le Cure calls the deaf.\n\n[92] How old are you?\n\n[93] Sir, you must all leave the carriage, unload it, and go over on\nfoot; your trunks must be carried over after you; and the horses will be\nled gently across: the bridge is suspended in the air by cords.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXIII.\n\n\nThe town of Nice is in the form of a triangle, of which the base rests\non the sea; one of its sides is a rampart or raised road against the\nPaion, the other is a road from Place Victor to the Port. One side of\nPlace Victor forms part of the line of the third side of this triangle;\nbut the Place itself is an excrescence from it: it is a large handsome\nsquare with arcades. Within this triangle, to the south-east corner, is\na high rocky hill, fortified and commanding the port and town;\ncommanding also, what interested me more than its artillery, most superb\npoints of view. Here my landlord, the general, had a garden to which he\nclimbed daily; and I used to see him coming down the steep with lettuces\nin his only remaining hand, and his cane suspended to the button of his\ncoat.\n\nMany improvements were at this time carrying on at Nice: a new bridge\nwas building over the Paion, the torrent river, which, though I never\nsaw it fuller of water than I have at first described, bears with it the\n\"horned flood\" on the melting of the snows and the descending of the\nrain from the Alps. The galley slaves were employed in blowing up the\nbottom of the rock on its east and south sides to obtain space for\ncontinuing the line of houses from Place Victor to the port, and from\nthe port to the Corso. This Corso is a short, dark, damp promenade, from\nwhich the view and the air of the sea are excluded by the terrace. The\nterrace is nothing more than a flat roof of a line of shops and stables,\non which you may walk, at the height of about fifteen or twenty feet\nfrom the ground, exposed to the heat of the sun, which, even in winter,\nis too powerful to be agreeable, and blinded by the reflection of its\nrays from the sea. In the evenings of winter it is too cold to walk on\nthis terrace: in the evenings of summer, that is, in April, it is\npleasant, but not so pleasant as would be a gravel walk on the beach,\nwhich will, I hope, in due time replace it. By taking away the terrace,\nthe value of the houses on the Corso would be doubled: en attendant, you\nhave the choice of walking on the Corso without sea air, or on the\nterrace without shade.\n\nI have spoken at some length on the subject of this terrace, because I\nknow it to be much admired. I am always most happy to be of the same\nopinion as the \"enlightened public,\" when I think this public to be in\nthe right, and in this, as in other cases, hold myself bound to give my\nreasons for differing from it.\n\nThe centre of Nice consists of very narrow streets and very lofty\nhouses. The square of St. Dominique however is large and handsome, and\nthere are some good, well-built streets in its neighbourhood.\n\nFrom the side or from the end of very many of the best houses of Nice\njut forth little square buildings at the height of the several stories:\nthese buildings would seem as if suspended in the air, but that the\nfourth side of each is formed by that of the house itself; and in this\nfourth side, that is, in the wall of the house, there is, no doubt, a\ndoor of communication with these cabinets: from the bottom of each of\nthese closets proceeds a tunnel or pipe, which is attached to the side\nor inserted into the wall of the house, and so conducted to a reservoir\nbelow. These reservoirs are small, and, by consequence, must be\nfrequently opened: their contents form an article of precious and of\ntasteful commerce to the gardeners of Nice. The word \"tasteful\" is not\nto be understood in a metaphorical sense; as I was assured by an\neye-witness of the fact that he had seen a gardener put his finger first\ninto the article offered for sale, and then into his mouth, that a third\nof his five senses might bear witness to its strength, in addition to\nthe testimony of his eyes and nose. The gardeners of Nice, to their\ncredit be it spoken, are so profuse in the dispersion of this\nfertilizing substance, that some sensitive English, who remained there\nduring the summer, complained of the odour as an intolerable nuisance.\n\nThe Nissard plan for having these conveniences at once within and\nwithout the house, and for giving to each story or flat, as it is called\nin Edinburgh,--a city to which one's thoughts cannot but revert while\nengaged on this subject,--the Nissard plan, is ingenious enough: there\nis nothing against it but the look of the thing: and qu'est ce que cela\nfait?[94] All the world knows, both in France and England, that such\nthings must be; the only difference is, that in England nobody allows\nit, while in France nobody denies it. The French seem to me in this\nrespect to be the nicer people of the two. An English friend told me\nthat, being at Toulon, after breakfast he inquired of the femme de\nchambre, (for in France no one scruples mentioning such things to a\nfemale,) the way to No. 100. She told him there was none in the house;\n\"Mais dans la rue la, vis-a-vis, pres du port il y a une commodite:\ncela vous coutera un sous: mais si vous resterez ici quelque\ntems, on peut s'abonner.\"[95]\n\nStrange that none of the great cities of civilized Europe have yet\nadopted the plan of Pekin, which probably is also that of other cities\nof China! One cannot wonder that the proportion of mortality between the\ntown and the country is as seven to six; the wonder is that it is not\ngreater: for every twentieth inhabitant of a great town, the calculation\nis moderate; a reservoir, perpetually to be supplied, must be provided.\nFifty thousand for London! At Pekin the treasures of each day are\ncarried away early in the morning of the day following, by carts that\ncome from the country for that purpose; and the valet-de-chambre of the\nMandarin and the Mandariness's lady's-maid quarrel for the perquisite,\nwhile the skill of the Chinese artisan is taxed to the utmost to make\nclose stools, nay, very close stools.\n\nI hope it will be granted that I have acquitted myself in this delicate\ninvestigation with all possible decorum, and that Dean Swift himself\ncould not have done better. His affected naivete and matter-of-fact\nsimplicity, in telling of the labour of the Lilliputians, in carrying\naway the ordure of Quinbus Flestrin, and numberless passages of his\nworks, show how little he prized \"the drapery furnished from the\nwardrobe of a moral imagination, which the heart owns and the\nunderstanding ratifies as necessary to cover the nakedness of our weak\nshivering nature, and raise it to dignity in its own estimation.\"\n\nI am well aware, as well as any one who may reproach me therewith, that\nmy book contains many things _disparate_; but such is the real history\nof human life: by this reality I am justified: and, in discussing this\nlast subject, I have endeavoured to preserve decency, while avoiding\nfastidiousness.\n\nThe English have a notion that the Carnival in catholic countries is\ninstituted to make amends, by anticipation, for the austerities of Lent:\nit is no institution; it is merely that season of the year in which\nsociety can most conveniently be reunited; and, as this season is\ninterrupted and curtailed by Lent, parties, and balls, and fetes come\nmore nearly on each other than they need do in countries where Lent is\nbut little observed. In France, the Carnival makes very little\ndifference in the amusements of the common people: at Nice they parade\nthe streets in masks, with music, and dance, and play fools' tricks. I\nwas looking at a party of these: an Anglican clergyman stood near me,\nand took occasion to observe, \"This does no great honour to the catholic\nreligion.\" I replied, \"It has no more to do with the catholic religion,\nthan with the discovery of the longitude.\" These people were all sober,\nand each one was diverting himself innocently, for the same cause that\ninduced Lady A. to go to Naples at a certain season; that is, because\nothers did so at that time.\n\nHere first I saw Franciscans and other religious, walking about in their\nproper habits. I had seen but one in France, a Carthusian or Trappist,\nat the house of the bishop of Avignon: he was taking leave as I entered.\nThe bishop, an old man of fourscore and four years old, said to him\npleasantly, \"Je vous souhaite beaucoup de richesses.\"--\"Monseigneur vous\nsouhaite,\" said I, \"ce que vous ne souhaitez pas pour vous-meme.\"--\"Ah,\nnon,\"[96] said he, with an air of placid and unaffected content. I\njudged him to be full of pious resignation to the austerities of his\nstate.\n\nDevotional exercises are appointed on each of the five Sundays of Lent,\nat different churches, within a short distance from Nice, which are\ncalled, for the occasion, stations: people of all ranks resort thither\nin crowds: fruit, wine, and provisions, are exposed to sale, and the\nscene has the appearance of what would be called in England a pleasure\nfair: but the church of the station is filled during the whole time by a\nsuccession of those whom one of our tourists would assuredly represent\nas mere revellers. I know that it is not superfluous to observe, that\nthe Sundays of Lent are not reckoned in the forty days of that season.\nOne of these stations is at the Croix de Marbre, to the great\nentertainment of the residents in that quarter. Another, is at the\nconvent of Simia: no description can give an idea of the varied beauties\nof the site of this convent, and of the view which it commands. Another\nstation is held at a convent four miles from Nice, situated on a fine\nand lofty elevation. A Nissard of our acquaintance had a villa or\ncountry-house a little above the convent: we called on him to take\nrefreshments, and afterwards walked in his garden. The very handsome\nfacade of this villa looks to the south; the garden is laid out in\nterraces lined with orange trees, bearing, at this time, both blossom\nand fruit.\n\nThe blossom of the orange is a valuable part of the produce of the tree;\nit is sold to those who make of it orange-flower water. The blossoms,\naccording to the usual prodigality of nature, are in such profusion,\nthat, were all to be allowed to become oranges, the tree would be unable\nto support them. Another thinning takes place of the oranges themselves:\nif all were to be allowed to ripen, the tree would be exhausted: most of\nthem are cropped at different stages of maturity, and made into\nconserves: this is the case indeed even with those oranges that are\nsuffered to stay on the tree till fully ripe: they are not good enough\nto be exported in their natural state: even in the market of their own\ncountry they find rivals in the oranges of Naples and Majorca, sweeter,\nheavier, and thinner of skin.\n\nThe protestant English at Nice, with the permission of the government,\nhad caused to be erected for themselves a chapel, or, as it was here\ncalled, a temple; but, as they had been unable to settle among\nthemselves what mode of faith should be admitted as orthodox, and\npreached in this place of worship,--it was supposed that the\nundertaking would of necessity be abandoned, and that the banker who had\nadvanced the funds on the security of the ground and building, would be\nobliged to foreclose the mortgage, to save himself from the loss of his\nprincipal and interest. According to some interpreters, the Tower of\nBabel was abandoned for the same reason; the settlers of Sennaar had\nfallen into the worship of the material agents of nature; their \"tops to\nthe heavens,\" were to have been a temple or temples to the host of\nheaven; and the confusion of tongues was nothing else but a dispute\nconcerning their confession of faith.\n\nThe port of Nice has a handsome and strong pier, but is small and\nshallow. On the other side of a promontory, about two miles distant by\nland, is Villefranche, a commodious harbour, in which large vessels\nremain, and send goods in boats to Nice. A party, in which my family was\nincluded, took a pleasure-boat with a tent or awning to shade us from\nthe sun in March, which, though not engendering agues, as Shakspeare\nsays it does in that month, would have very much annoyed us: we doubled\nthe cape, and landed at Villefranche, saw the galley of the King of\nSardinia, and conversed with some of the galeriens, one of whom was\nwithin eight days of the termination of his ten years of service, and\nseemed but moderately delighted with his approaching liberation. We then\ndined on the beach under the shade of olive trees, and enjoyed the\nvernal breeze, and afterwards, having nothing else to do, returned,\nhaving duly complied with all that constitutes a party of pleasure.\n\nThe cathedral and several other churches of Nice are handsome and\nspacious; the appearance of the town is, on the whole, rich and busy and\ncheerful: it might be a good place for sea-bathing in the summer, if\naccommodations were provided. I described to a person whom such an\nundertaking might suit, the bathing machines used at Weymouth and\nBrighton: he said it would be necessary to have the permission of the\ngovernment;--the permission of the government for two cart wheels to go\nten yards into the sea, and out again! No doubt the permission of the\ngovernment would be granted, but it seemed to me strange that it should\nbe wanted: it is lucky that governments leave us the independent\nenjoyment of the non-naturals. I had thoughts of spending the summer\nhere, but impatience to see Italy prevailed: the last day of my abode at\nNice was the fifth of May, on which day my departed son would have\ncompleted his twenty-first year: on the morrow we set off for the Col\nde Tende.\n\nNice is called, in Italian, _Nizza maritima_, to distinguish it from\nother towns of the same name: [Greek: niche], _victory_, was a name of\ngood augury for a city. Massena, the \"enfant gate de la victoire,\" was\nborn at Nice: I saw the house and shop in which he employed his youth in\nthe useful art of making and retailing vermicelli.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[94] What does that signify?\n\n[95] But there, in the street opposite, near the port, there is one: it\nwill cost you a sous; but, if you remain here for any length of time,\nyou may subscribe.\n\n[96] \"I wish you a deal of riches.\"--\"His lordship wishes you what you\ndo not wish for yourself.\"--\"Ah! no.\"\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n_Printed by A. J. Valpy, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street._\n\n * * * * *\n\nINTERESTING WORKS,\n\nJust published by HENRY COLBURN, New Burlington Street.\n\n\n1. THE HISTORY OF THE COMMONWEALTH of ENGLAND: from the Commencement of\nthe Civil War, to the Restoration of CHARLES THE SECOND. By William\nGodwin. Volume the Second, 8vo.\n\n***There is no part of the history of\nthis island which has been so inadequately treated, as the characters\nand acts of those leaders, who had, for the most part, the direction of\nthe public affairs of England, from 1640 to 1660. The men who figured\nduring the interregnum were, immediately after the Restoration, spoken\nof with horror, and their memoirs were composed after the manner of the\nNewgate Calendar. What was begun from party rage, has been continued\nfrom indolence. No research has been exercised, no public measures have\nbeen traced to their right authors; even the succession of Judges,\nPublic Officers, and Statesmen, has been left in impenetrable confusion.\nIt is the object of the present Work to remedy this defect, and to\nreview the transactions of that period with the same calmness,\nimpartiality, and inflexible justice, as if they had preceded the\nUniversal Deluge, or had taken place in one of the remotest islands of\nthe South Sea.\n\n\n2. THE DIARY and CORRESPONDENCE of SAMUEL PEPYS, Esq. F.R.S. Secretary\nto the Admiralty in the Reigns of Charles II. and James II. and the\nintimate Friend of the celebrated John Evelyn. Edited by Richard, Lord\nBraybrooke. In 2 vols. royal 4to. printed uniformly with \"Evelyn's\nMemoirs,\" and embellished with Portraits and other Engravings by the\nfirst Artists. Price 6l. 6s. boards.\n\n\n3. THE LIVES OF THE RIGHT HON. FRANCIS NORTH, Baron Guilford, Lord\nKeeper of the Great Seal under King Charles II. and King James II.; the\nHON. SIR DUDLEY NORTH, Commissioner of the Customs, and afterwards of\nthe Treasury to King Charles II.; and the HON. and REV. DR. JOHN NORTH,\nMaster of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Clerk of the Closet to King\nCharles II. By the Hon. Roger North. With Notes and Illustrations,\nhistorical and biographical. In three vols. 8vo. with Portraits, price\n1l. 16s.\n\n\n4. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES of RECENTLY DECEASED BRITISH CHARACTERS,\ncommencing with the Accession of George IV. comprising two hundred and\nthirty subjects, chronologically arranged, with a List of their engraved\nPortraits. By Wm. Miller. Handsomely printed in 4to. price 3l. 3s.\n\n\n5. THE LIFE and TIMES of FREDERICK REYNOLDS (the Dramatist), written by\nhimself. Two vols. 8vo. with Portrait.\n\n\n6. THE LIFE and CORRESPONDENCE of MAJOR CARTWRIGHT. Edited by his Niece,\nF. D. Cartwright. Two vols. 8vo. with Portrait, &c.\n\n\n7. GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE; a Romance: St. Alban's Abbey; a Metrical Tale,\nwith some Poetical Pieces. By Anne Radcliffe, Author of \"The Romance of\nthe Forest,\" \"Mysteries of Udolpho,\" \"Italian,\" &c. to which is\nprefixed, a Memoir of the Author, with Extracts from her Diary.\nPublished from the Originals, in the possession of Wm. Radcliffe, Esq.\nfour vols. post 8vo. 1l. 18s.\n\n\n8. SHERIDANIANA. Anecdotes of the Life of Richard Brinsley Sheridan; his\nTable Talk and Bons Mots. One vol. post 8vo. 9s. 6d.\n\n\n9. MEMOIRS of the COUNTESS DE GENLIS, illustrative of the History of the\nEighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. Written by Herself. In 8 vols.\nsmall 8vo. Price 3l. 6s. and in French, 2l. 18s.\n\n***This Work will be found to abound in\nAnecdotes of the most Eminent Literary and Political Characters, who\nfigured at the latter end of the Eighteenth and the commencement of the\nNineteenth Centuries.\n\n\n10. THE DIARY of an ENNUYEE. Second Edition, 1 vol. post 8vo. 10s. 6d.\n\n\n11. LETTERS from the EAST. Written during a recent Tour through Turkey,\nEgypt, Arabia, the Holy Land, Syria, and Greece. By John Carne, Esq., of\nQueen's College, Cambridge. In one large volume, with a coloured plate,\n18s.\n\n\n12. GAIETIES and GRAVITIES, a Series of Sketches, Comic Tales, and\nFugitive Vagaries. By ONE of the Authors of \"Rejected Addresses.\" Second\nEdition, revised. In 3 vols. post 8vo. 27s.\n\n\n13. LETTERS PROM SPAIN. By Don Leucadio Doblado. (The Rev. Jos. Blanco\nWhite.) The second Edition, revised. In one large volume, 8vo. price\n14s.\n\n\n14. THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS of JOHN EVELYN, Esq. the celebrated\nAuthor of \"Sylva; or, a Discourse of Forest Trees,\" Memoirs, &c. Now\nfirst collected, and edited, with Notes, by William Upcott, of the\nLondon Institution. Printed uniformly with Evelyn's Memoirs, in one vol.\nroyal 4to. and embellished with Engravings. Price 3l. 10s. boards.\n\nThe miscellaneous writings of the Philosopher and Naturalist, Evelyn,\n(most of which are extremely rare) are here presented to the public in a\nquarto volume, to range with his \"Diary and Correspondence.\" These\nworks, with his noble discourse on Forest-Trees, under the title of\n\"Sylva,\" (of which an edition in two vols. 4to. with Notes, has also\njust appeared) comprise the whole body of Evelyn's productions. The\ntracts forming the present volume are, more or less, on subjects of\ngreat interest, including lively pictures of the manners and amusements\nof his time; memoirs, political, domestic, and religious: treatises on\nMorals, Horticulture, Art, Science, Commerce, &c.; in all of which the\nsound intellect of this \"amiable and high-minded English Gentleman\" will\nbe traced.\n\n\n15. THE NAVAL SKETCH BOOK; or, Service Afloat and Ashore, with\nCharacteristic Reminiscences, Fragments, and Opinions. By an Officer of\nRank. Second Edition, with considerable Additions. In two vols. post\n8vo. 18s.\n\n\n16. DIARY of the MARQUIS DE DANGEAU, kept during his Residence (above\nthirty years) at the Court of France. Now first translated from the\nFrench, with Historical and Critical Notes. In two vols. 8vo. 28s.\n\nA French Edition, with Supplementary Notes, three vols. 28s.\n\n \"The Memoirs of the Marquis de Dangeau are curious, and\n certainly include a great deal of valuable information. Those\n who have a taste for this kind of writing, and some previous\n knowledge of the personages to whom it relates, will be pleased\n at meeting so many of their old friends, and amused with the\n transactions, great and small, which Dangeau records of them;\n while those who look still deeper into the work will find a\n great deal of chronological and some historical information,\n with many important views of the manners and morals of the age,\n of the character of the Sovereign and his Ministers, and the\n secret springs and personal motives of many considerable\n events.\"--_Quarterly Review_.\n\n\n17. THE PRIVATE JOURNAL of MADAME CAMPAN'S CONVERSATIONS, comprising\nOriginal Anecdotes of the French Court; with Extracts from her\nCorrespondence, her Thoughts on Education, &c. Editions in French and\nEnglish. In one vol. 8vo. French 12s. English 14s.\n\n\n18. MEMOIRS and RECOLLECTIONS of COUNT SEGUR, Ambassador from France to\nthe Courts of Russia and Prussia. Volume the Second, 8vo. 12s.; French\n10s. 6d.\n\nThe Count de Segur was connected by ties of friendship or consanguinity\nwith all the remarkable personages of the Courts of Louis XV. and XVI.,\nand was engaged in the intercourse of Affairs and Society with Catherine\nII., Frederic the Great, Potemkin, Joseph II., Gustavus III.,\nWashington, Kosciusko, La Fayette, Mirabeau, and Napoleon, as well as\nwith the Chiefs of the Aristocratical and Democratical Parties, and the\nmost illustrious Writers of the times; of whom he records the most\ninteresting particulars.\n\n\n19. THE REMINISCENCES of MICHAEL KELLY, of the King's Theatre; including\na Period of nearly half a Century. With numerous original Anecdotes of\nDistinguished Persons, Royal, Political, Literary, and Musical. The\nSecond Edition, revised. In two vols. post 8vo. with a Portrait by\nMeyer. Price 21s.\n\n\n20. THE SPIRIT of the AGE; or, Contemporary Portraits. The Second\nEdition, with Additions. In one vol. post 8vo. Price 10s. 6d.\n\nContents:--Mr. Jeffery, Mr. Gifford, Mr. Southey, Sir Walter Scott, Lord\nByron, Mr. Campbell, Mr. Thomas Moore, Mr. William Godwin, Mr. Jeremy\nBentham, Mr. Cobbett, Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Leigh Hunt, Mr. Wordsworth, Sir\nJames Mackintosh, Mr. Brougham, Sir F. Burdett, Rev. E. Irving, Lord\nEldon, Mr. Wilberforce, Mr. Malthus, Mr. Crabbe, the late Mr. Horne\nTooke, &c. &c.\n\n\n21. MEMOIRS of the MARGRAVINE of ANSPACH. Written by Herself. In two\nvols, 8vo. with Portraits. Price 28s.\n\n\n22. DON ESTEBAN; or, Memoirs of a Spaniard. Written by Himself. Second\nEdition, three vols. post 8vo. 27s.\n\n \"This work forms an excellent supplement and companion to the\n admirable Letters of Don Leucadio Doblado.\"--_Globe and\n Traveller._\n\n\n23. A PICTURE of GREECE in 1825: as exhibited in the Personal Narratives\nof James Emerson, Esq., Count Pecchio, and W. H. Humphreys, Esq. In two\nvols. post 8vo. with a Portrait of the Greek Admiral Miaulis. Price 18s.\n\n\n24. THE FOURTH and LAST LIVRAISON of NAPOLEON'S HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.\nDictated at St. Helena, to Counts Montholon, Gourgaud, &c. and published\nfrom the original manuscripts, corrected by himself. One vol. 14s.; in\nFrench 12s.\n\nThis important work is now completed in seven volumes, comprising four\nof Memoirs, and three of Historical Miscellanies; and the public are\nadvised to complete their sets without delay.\n\n\n25. CONVERSATIONS OF LORD BYRON, in which are detailed the principal\nOccurrences of his private Life, his Opinions on Society, Manners,\nLiterature, and Literary Men. Being the substance of a Journal kept\nduring a Residence with his Lordship at Pisa, in the Years 1821 and\n1822. By Thomas Medwin, Esq. of the 24th Light Dragoons. New editions,\nuniform with the Works, in one vol. 8vo. and two vols. foolscap, price\n14s.\n\n\n26. THE LAST DAYS of NAPOLEON. By F. Antommarchi; recording his\nConversations with the Emperor on various interesting Subjects, during\nthe last two years of his Exile; and forming a Supplement to the\nJournals of O'Meara and Las Cases. Editions in French and English, in\ntwo vols. 8vo. 21s.\n\n\n27. COUNT LAS CASES' JOURNAL of the PRIVATE LIFE and CONVERSATIONS of\nthe late EMPEROR NAPOLEON; a new Edition, illustrated with Portraits of\nNapoleon and Las Cases; a View of the House in which Napoleon was born,\nat Ajaccio in Corsica; four coloured Views of St. Helena, taken on the\nspot; besides Maps, Plans, &c. complete in four handsome volumes, 8vo.\nPrice 2l. 12s. in French or English.\n\nAs this work is universally acknowledged to form the most perfect\nepitome of the Life, Character, and Opinions of this extraordinary Man,\nit is presumed that this new Edition, compressed into four volumes, and\npublished at a very moderate price, will be extremely acceptable to the\npublic, and that there are few who will not be desirous of possessing\nit.\n\n\n28. A SERIES of ILLUSTRATIONS to the JOURNAL of COUNT LAS CASES,\ncomprising a Portrait of Napoleon, engraved by Cooper, after the\noriginal well-known Painting by David, a Portrait of Count Las Cases,\nand four coloured Views of St. Helena, from Drawings taken on the spot\nby eminent Artists. 8vo. Price 5s.","title":"Four Years in France: or, Narrative of an English Family's Residence there during that Period; Preceded by some Account of the Conversion of the Author to the Catholic Faith","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":98043}