Part 17
Laon is built upon an abrupt and rocky eminence, shaded by trees, and commanding a very extensive bird's-eye prospect of the surrounding country. There was a high appearance of cultivation and fertility of soil, while the immediate vicinity of vineyards, filled with cheerful groups of people, was very enlivening; but no costume was to be observed except the almost universal cross worn round the necks of the women[11]. Our inn (_à la Hure_) was extremely well appointed; the host an attentive, civil old man, and we were waited upon with celerity and good humour by two young _paysannes_, who appeared to think no exertion too much which could contribute in any way to the comfort of the guests. One of them (like most French servants) chatted in a natural intelligent manner, was full of frolic and glee, ready to laugh at every thing, carolling with the gaiety of a lark, in all parts of the house, and seeming with difficulty to restrain herself from dancing at the same time: all this (as I once before mentioned) without the least degree of immodesty. What a wide difference exists between the ideas of a French and English woman in this situation of life, on the score of what is called propriety; a vague term, and changeable as the chamelion in its nature, however some worthy folks may suppose it confined solely to one shape, and one definite meaning. The sense of female honour among the country girls of France, so far from being too lax, or but little regarded, seems, on the contrary, to be particularly correct, and I have taken some pains in my inquiries upon this point. The loss of fair fame is rare, and always accompanied by the utmost disgrace and ignominy; so much so, that one young woman (whose heart was, I am sure, upon her lips) told me, "that if such a circumstance occurred, the unfortunate girl had much better be dead at once; for she never would be looked upon again by her youthful companions." Let it, therefore, be remembered, to the credit of the French, that innocence is perfectly compatible with a lively freedom of manner, and that virtue can be firmly maintained, although unshackled by the restraints of primness and formality. I am now convinced that climate has a great deal more influence upon our feelings and conduct than I was once inclined to think. The chilly fogs and heavy weight of atmosphere in England do certainly affect, in some measure, the mental faculties of her children, rendering their ideas of morality needlessly gloomy and strict. I judge (in part) from my own occasional sensations. I never feel in so cheerful and happy a frame of mind, so willing to be candid, and to look upon persons and things in the most favourable light, as during a fine clear sunshiny day. _Au contraire_, there have been moments in the cold, humidity, and dark gloom of winter, when I have been shocked and ashamed at perceiving my sentiments involuntarily narrowing into prejudices, and my spirits saddening in proportion. It has required a strong exertion of reason to get the better of such feelings, and even to divest myself of an idea of their being in some degree meritorious.
I now hasten to continue the narrative of our route from Laon to Cambray, which was a day's journey. The road for the first stage presented us with a welcome variety of landscape, hills, dales, copses, shady villages, and fertile fields. Never did we see such a profusion of fine apples as were growing here, on each side of the way. The peasants were gathering them as we passed, and heaps of this rosy, tempting fruit were piled up in hillocks beneath the trees from which they had just been taken. They were even strewed by thousands on the grass around, and were perpetually rolling into the road under the wheels of our carriage. Such a triumph of Pomona it is really difficult to imagine without having seen its animating effect! We stopt to purchase some, and found them truly delicious; spirited, juicy, and possessing all the acid sweetness of champaigne. We remarked the soil in which these trees so peculiarly flourished: it consisted of a loose, light, sandy earth, with a mixture of clay; but in those parts of England where they thrive best, I understand that the soil is of a redder earth, with not nearly so large a proportion of sand. For what are called common fruits and flowers I have ever entertained a preference, and for the latter I have almost a passion. The richest collection of rare exotics do not make the same agreeable and soothing impression upon my imagination as the unpretending garden which my mother formerly cultivated in Surrey, or that of a dear and excellent friend, in which from childhood I have ever delighted, and where the common flowers of each season, fruits, vegetables, herbs, and shrubs, flourish together, in defiance of the more refined arrangements of modern days. I recollect the simple charms of her sitting-room windows (shadowed by the climbing honeysuckle and sweetbriar), and those of my mother's pretty doorway, half lost in a thick bower of clematis, with the liveliest feelings of pleasure, while I have totally forgotten a hundred prouder boudoirs, rich in the odours of tuberose, cape jessamine, night-blowing geraniums, and other splendid extravagancies.
The country for the last stage before we reached St. Quentin (a strong-built large town) was very fast relapsing into the baldness of that which had so lately annoyed us; but the peasantry were generally much better looking, cleaner, and altogether gayer in their appearance. This place is in the direct road from Paris to Brussels. We arrived at Cambray to supper, slept, and breakfasted there the next morning, when we proceeded towards the coast. The inn was not very comfortable, although we had the best apartments in the house. It was a very striking and singular spectacle to behold, as we now did, English sentinels on duty at the drawbridges of this town, and an encampment of the same troops just beneath its walls. How would John Bull have writhed and raged with shame and grief, if the scene had been exhibited _vice versa_ in our own country? Can we then (with any pretence to candour and justice) affect to wonder at the deep-felt disgust and dislike of the French towards us?
We saw the fine regiments of our foot guards, and the 95th, or sharp-shooters, here. All the men looked clean, bright, and cheerful, and most of them were decorated with Waterloo medals. Our hearts sensibly warmed at sight of the well-remembered countenance of our countrymen, and (without any degree of unjust partiality) we could not but be forcibly struck with the superiority of appearance and deportment displayed by our English officers, when we compared them with all the French whom we had had an opportunity of observing. There is, I think (generally speaking), a greater suavity and benevolence in the manners of a Frenchman of birth and education; there is a higher degree of polish in his address; but in point of personal appearance I must decidedly award the preference to our manly, graceful, dignified countrymen. An English gentleman (in the true acceptation of the word) is the flower of the world. I do not mean to discuss at length, the different moral virtues and mental perfections of either nation. I have neither time nor sufficient experience and information for such a task; but of this I am convinced, "that the head and heart of our countrymen (taking their fairest specimens) may sustain a comparison with those of any other race of men upon this habitable globe, and fail not to come forth with honour and credit from the investigation." Of the _bourgeoisie_ of each country I cannot pretend to judge; but with respect to the unsophisticated peasantry, I feel by no means clear that the superiority lies on our side. We were informed that a great many of the English soldiers at Cambray, and elsewhere, had taken wives from among the _paysannes_, but that the _petites bourgeoises_ did not listen so favourably to their vows. Every where we had the gratification of hearing praises of the orderly, quiet, and moderate behaviour of the British regiments.
The country beyond this town, for a considerable distance, was uninteresting, and the lesser towns and villages were very ugly. What was wanting in trees seemed to be made up in windmills, which spread their long arms abroad in every direction. Had Don Quixote been alive, and travelling this road, he would have found himself in the predicament of poor Arlechino, _dans l'embarras des richesses_.
We now passed through Douay, a clean, gay-looking, strong-built town. It was more than usually alive, from the circumstance of a fair which was going on in the market-place. Among the different articles exposed for sale, I was struck by the cotton handkerchiefs worn by the _paysannes_. Their richness and beauty of colour were very remarkable, the dyes being brilliant beyond any that we possess, and the patterns very fanciful and pretty. Here the women adopt the same picturesque double gold drops in the ears, as those of Calais; wearing likewise richly-worked heavy crosses upon the bosom, and long loose cloaks, made of coloured linen or black silk, frilled round, with a very deep hood. Two pretty little girls, from twelve to thirteen years of age, had a highly graceful effect, as they passed through the crowd, in white gauze or muslin veils, extremely transparent, and reaching to the ground, thrown carelessly over their heads. They appeared like young sylphs, flitting in all their purity among the gayer, yet grosser, figures which surrounded them.
We arrived in very good time at Lille (frequently spelt Lisle), and entered through a most beautiful gateway of Tuscan architecture. This town is extensive, well built, lively, and interesting: there are excellent shops, with signs of the most fanciful and ingenious devices, like those of Paris. This place is reckoned impregnable, and the citadel is of wonderful strength, being the masterpiece of Vauban, the celebrated engineer. Our inn (_l'hotel de Bourbon_) was very comfortable in every respect, except that we were bitten by bugs. They, however, are so common in various parts of the continent that the traveller must make up his mind to bear with them as things of course. We were amused by the humour of a _valet de place_ here, who was also hair-dresser and barber: he was a true disciple of the renowned Vicar of Bray, having squared his politics according to every change in the government, and contrived to thrive equally under all. He assured us (as if he had been enumerating his virtues) that _Vive la liberté! vive Napoleon!_ or _vivent les Bourbons!_ was all the same thing to him; and he had constantly held himself in readiness to call out for each, provided they left heads enough for him to find hair to friz, and beards to mow. His countenance made us laugh the moment he appeared, being the counterpart of Liston's, with that peculiar expression of _niaiserie_ which is so irresistibly ludicrous in him. It was no wonder that we were amazed by the number of windmills in the environs of this town; for we learnt that there were no less than two hundred used in making oil, &c.
We quitted Lille the next morning, and in changing horses at Bailleul we discovered that the cap and linchpin of the axletree had fallen off. They were found about a quarter of a mile behind us; and it was very extraordinary that this accident did not occasion our overturn, as the wheel had really no support. The country now began to improve in point of trees and verdure, but still wore an air of formality. A disagreeable _patois_ is spoken here.
The approach to Cassel was very pretty; the trees gradually lost their prim regularity, and formed a rich wood, which entirely covered a high hill, called Mont Cassel. It is the only one in the Netherlands, and commands a most extensive view: no less than twenty-two fortified towns may be discerned from it. Most of the cottages in these environs are thatched, and resemble those in England, each having a little garden (inclosed by neat hedges) full of vegetables. From the summit of the above-mentioned hill, we were much pleased by a prospect of great fertility, and some beauty. Seen from this distance, the artificial mode of planting the trees was not distinguished, and they had a very luxuriant woody effect altogether. Just at the entrance of Cassel is a churchyard, in which we observed a tall crucifix, with a wooden image of our Saviour, larger than life, painted flesh colour, and having a stream of blood flowing from the side (made of a long strip of wire, standing far out in a curve from the body), and which was caught in a cup by another clumsy image (Dutch built) representing a cherubim. The latter was suspended in the air, by some contrivance (not discoverable at that distance), so as to appear flying. Nothing could well be more absurd, or in a worse taste!
We dined and slept at St. Omer, a large town. We found at the inn (_l'ancienne Poste_) very comfortable accommodations; but it was full of English officers, who had a mess there, and in consequence we could not get a morsel to eat, or a creature to attend upon us, till these _messieurs_ were first served. They were assembled there in readiness for a ball, which was to take place somewhere in the town, at night.
Suffering under the sharpest pangs of hunger, we felt the warmth of our feelings towards our compatriots rather decreasing; but we recovered our nationality after dinner. The next morning we went on to Calais. It was rather a pretty drive the first two stages; the country woody, and the villages much neater than usual. No costume, however, made its appearance (except the long ear-ring and cross), neither could we observe any beauty.
We breakfasted this morning at the small post-house of Ardres. The old dame there told us that the behaviour of the British troops had been most exemplary, and that they would be missed and regretted by some among the natives.
We were now in Picardy, which we understood was more infested with beggars than most other provinces. Some half starved children ran after the carriage, screaming the popular air of _Vive Henri Quatre_. We gave them a sous or two, purely for the sake of that _père de son peuple_, whose memory is yet green in their hearts. It is in comparing his species of greatness with that of Napoleon, that I am most forcibly impressed with the inferiority of the latter. The union of talent and benevolence in a sovereign (like that of judgment and imagination in an author) seems almost indispensable; and, at all events, there can be no perfection of character without it. How awfully requisite are both these qualities in the head of an absolute monarchy, and how devoutly to be wished for, even under the less extensively important influence which (like our own) is limited by the laws of the constitution. Those persons, who, from a timid sort of morality, would exalt mere goodness, in opposition to superior talent, seem to me to be thereby counteracting the influence of the very principle upon which they profess to act. Those, on the other hand, who adopt the contrary mode of reasoning are yet worse, for they assert an opinion which is in direct defiance of humanity, morality, and religion. Comparing Napoleon with some of his crowned cotemporaries, I must confess that my admiration of him alarmingly increases; but place him by the side of _Henri quatre_, and he sinks at once. Madame de Stael has beautifully and justly expressed my own sentiments; I must indulge myself in quoting her eloquent language. Speaking of another political tyrant, (Cardinal Richelieu) she remarks, "On a beaucoup vanté le talent de ce ministre, parce qu'il a maintenu la grandeur politique de la France; et sous ce rapport, on ne sçauroit lui réfuser des talens superieurs! Mais _Henri quatre_ atteignoit au même but, en gouvernant par des principes de justice et de verité! Le génie se manifeste non seulement dans le triomphe qu'on remporte, mais dans les moyens qu'on a pris pour l'obtenir."
Upon approaching Calais, we felt our courage quail beneath the idea of the passage to Dover, which was now so near at hand; but as it never answers any rational purpose to dwell upon disagreeables which are inevitable, and as this transient purgatory was the only means of attaining the paradise of English comforts that awaited us on the other side of the water, we made up our minds, and prepared for our fate with becoming resolution. We were very fortunate in arriving at Quilliac's early in the day, as we had an opportunity of taking possession of a most comfortable suite of apartments, which would not have fallen to our share, half an hour later; for the concourse of equipages which soon followed ours into the inn-yard was quite astonishing. Quilliac's is a magnificent hotel, and seems to be organized in a manner that does credit to the head of the master. They make up from a hundred and fifty to a hundred and sixty beds, and the day of our arrival, they were serving up little separate dinners to a hundred and forty persons, exclusive of servants. Yet the attendance was by no means hurried, or our comforts of any sort diminished, upon that account: every waiter and _fille de chambre_ seemed to know their particular walk, nor could we observe any awkward scrambling or jostling among them.
Determined not again to encounter the annoyance of a crowded packet, we desired inquiries to be made for any family of respectability, who might wish to share a private one with us: fortune befriended us, for we soon beheld some English friends drive into the court, who agreed to join forces, and accordingly we took the Antigone (Capitaine Margollé), between us. She was accounted the best sailer in the harbour, and we found the truth of her reputation confirmed the next morning, when at nine o'clock we all embarked. She brought us into Dover before several other packets, which had sailed from Calais three hours previous to ourselves; but the winds were nevertheless against us, as we were becalmed for seven hours, and the passage lasted altogether ten. I was the only person on board who suffered much; but I speedily forgot all my wretchedness, when I found myself happily landed at Dover, and seated by an English fireside.
We left that place the next day (October 8th), and felt that however we might justly admire foreign countries, our native land possessed a charm above all others, for the hearts of its children. We were delighted by the richness of the woods, and the smiling fertility of the landscape between Canterbury and Sittingbourne, and also by the peculiar air of neatness and cleanliness displayed in every cottage and house, both in the towns and villages: their superiority in these respects to those of France was very apparent; but I could not help being struck by the different costume, countenance and air of the lower classes of my countrywomen, from what I had been used to behold for the last few weeks among the daughters of the continent. The former certainly did (since the truth must be told) appear what is called dowdy and heavy, and the general expression of face was somewhat sullen, in comparison. I also greatly missed the brilliant dark eye, and the charming shadowy eyelash, which is generally to be met with abroad.
We were once more gratified by the pre-eminent swiftness, ease, and dexterity of our English mode of posting; the horses really seemed to fly, and their spruce effect, together with that of their drivers, contrasted favourably with those we had left on the other side the channel.
Passing through Rochester, to Dartford, the river Thames presented a most imposing spectacle, being covered with innumerable vessels in full sail, bound for London. A foreigner must have been impressed with a superb idea of our commercial wealth and glory.
At length we reached home late in the evening, and, full of grateful pleasure for all we had enjoyed during our absence from it, returned to the worship of our Penates with all the fervour and sincerity of true hearted, though not wrong headed, Britons.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] I had reason, however, afterwards to doubt the accuracy of the rural dame's assertion.
[2] The principal beauty of this cathedral is the choir, and it is also famous for Gobelin tapestry.
[3] Vide Southey's Miscellaneous Poems.
[4] Vide Spurzheim's Craniology.
[5] Vide Bath Guide, page 100.
[6] Goldsmith.
[7] Vide Bath Guide.
[8] Lord Byron.
[9] Some of the original productions of this person are in the possession of collectors in our own country.
[10] The _promenade_ also, near the cathedral, is remarkable for the beautiful prospect it discloses of the glaciers, particularly at sunset, when the rose-coloured tints upon their snowy summits are wonderfully fine.
[11] This town is memorable for the sanguinary contests between Blucher and the French army, during which it was taken and retaken several times. The epicure will here find the best _grenouilles_ in France: we did not chance to meet with this delicacy, nor with another, which, however common here, does not exactly accord with the taste of John Bull, viz. snails.
NOTES.
Note (A.) page 109, line 18.
_Aromatic plants._
Near the summits of these mountains, and in the highest region of vegetation, is found the _gennipi_, a plant of the camomile genus, and which, next to the _sang du bouquetin_, or wild goat (which, as an inhabitant of these places, though now a very rare one, is worthy of mention), is the most powerful sudorific, and of high estimation in the treatment of pleurisy.
Note (B.) page 127, line 21.
_The Devil's Bridge--Pont du Diable._
We cannot too much admire the boldness and skill with which this extraordinary work has been achieved in such a country, and one knows not in what age. The marvellous histories believed concerning it by the credulous peasantry are scarcely to be wondered at. Suffice it to say, that its dimensions are a single arch of twenty-four feet in the span, fourteen wide, and seventy-two above the surface of the stream; but in this circumstance alone (considered without reference to the wild sublimity of the surrounding scenery), there is nothing extraordinary to English eyes, who may view the whole width of the Thames at London embraced by three arches of such stupendous dimensions.
Note (C.) page 131, line 17.
_Mont Cenis._
Upon the plain of Mont Cenis are found large masses of the gypsum, or alabaster, from which the plaster of Paris is made. The more sheltered parts are bright with the flowers of the _rhododendron ferrugineum_, which I have in another part of my work described. Quantities of the beautiful little blue butterfly, called the argus, are seen here, and (though not so common) that fine fly, named _l'Apollon des Alpes_. Besides the great wild goat (_le bouquetin_), there are in these mountains the chamois, with the marmottes, which require bold and active chasseurs to be got at: they are shot by single ball. The whistling sort of cry of the marmotte resembles that of some birds of prey. It is the signal they give upon being alarmed. When fat, they are considered as rather delicate food. We saw one unfortunate little animal of this species in a tame state, belonging to a peasant boy, who had taught it to shoulder a stick like a firelock, and to twirl itself about in a manner difficult to describe, that he called dancing. He sung at the same time, to animate the poor creature's reluctant exertions, a little _patois_ song, in which the words _dansez a madama_ were frequently repeated. The tune haunted me for some time afterwards, and was really not inharmonious.
Note (D.) page 159, line 2.
_Consists in their vineyards._