Part 4

Bonaparte on his return from Elba occupied this apartment; and the postillion who drove us was one of those who rendered the same service to him: we had also a pair of the same horses which aided in conveying him on towards Paris. He passed two days here, waiting for his small army of five thousand men to come up with him, as his speed greatly outran theirs. He had six horses to his travelling carriage, and gave each postillion ten francs a piece; "_Ma foi!_" (said ours in relating the circumstance) "_nous avons bien galoppé! quand on nous paye si bien, les chevaux ne se fatiguent jamais!_" There was some honesty as well as wit in this avowal.

Quitting Auxerre, we passed a large stone cistern, with a cross on the top; several loaded donkeys were drinking here, and some women washing clothes; it was altogether a picturesque group, and singular to an English eye. Vineyards, vineyards, vineyards! _toujours perdrix!_ I was quite tired of them at last. The country, however, now became much more hilly, and we used the drag-chain, for the first time, between Saint Bris and Vermanton; these hills were richly covered with vines, and woods began to appear, in the form of thick dwarfish oak.

Vermanton. This place is famed for wood and wine. We saw the _paysannes_ here in deep gipsy straw hats, the first we had beheld in France among this class of people; for even in Paris, the _petites bourgeoises_, as well as the countrywomen, all walk about in caps, or the French handkerchief tied carelessly round the head. The country from hence again changed much for the worse, barren hills extended for several miles, now and then covered with partial spots of vegetation.

Close to the town of Avalon, we remarked a range of hills, one of which is of great height, called Montmartre. We here bid adieu for some time to vineyards. Large extensive woods surround Avalon, from which the greater part of the fuel burnt in Paris is taken. Flocks of sheep were continually passing, numbers of black ones, and some goats always among them. There seemed to be few pigs any where, and all of them were frightfully lean: "as fat as a pig" is a term of reproach for which I have ever entertained a particular aversion, but I am now convinced that these beasts are much more disgusting when deprived of their natural _embonpoint_. I fancy the French people make too good a use themselves of what we should call _the refuse of the kitchen_, to have any to spare for the necessities of these their fourfooted brethren. We now came into the neighbourhood of widely extended cornfields--fields I ought not to call them, for there are no inclosures. We saw an old woman at a cottage door, with a distaff in her hand; the first I had ever seen except in a picture. She was a withered, grim-looking crone, but not quite sublime enough for one of Gray's "fatal sisters." Scene the next, a pretty, green, tranquil glen, (where cattle were making the most of the unusually rich pasturage,) bounded by a steep bank, and copse wood; not unlike some spots in Surrey.

We drove on, through a shady wood, to Rouvray, passing on the road crowds of waggons drawn by oxen, loaded with empty wine casks, preparatory to the vintage, which was expected to be very fine this season: the waggoners almost all wore cocked hats, and we remarked that the oxen were yoked by the head. We met a _diligence_ drawn by four mules, and observed many beautiful trees of mountain ash, with their bright clusters of scarlet berries, by the side of the highway.

Stopping for a few moments at la Roche en Berney, we joined a group of the most respectable _bourgeoisie_, (men and women,) sitting with the hostess on a bench at her door. They all rose up to salute us, and the men stood _sans chapeau_ as we passed, with an agreeable expression of civil good will upon every countenance. Some of the ladies had little French dogs under their arms. The country near this place is covered with wood, yet has notwithstanding a monotonous character; these woods however are worthy of remark, from their extent and duration, continuing on all sides without interruption for many miles.

We now arrived at Saulieu, where we supped and slept at _la Poste_. It was quite in the cottage style, which we all rather liked than not: we had a cheerful little wood fire at night (as the weather felt chilly), and sat round it talking of the adventures of the day, until the hour of repose. This town stands upon the highest ground in France; the snow was never entirely off the neighbouring woods during the whole of the last winter: vineyards will not flourish in so bleak a situation, and other fruits are very scarce. The hostess was a most loyal personage, for upon my observing a bust of _Henri quatre_ over the chimney, and saying he was truly the father of his people, she exclaimed, _Oui, Madame! mais à present nous avons aussi des rois qui font le bonheur de leurs sujets_. The costume here still continues undecided, and devoid of taste. Two very pretty, modest, rustic lasses waited upon us, named Marie and Lodine. Lodine was a brunette, with an arch, dimpled, comical little face, (round as an apple, and equally glowing,) teeth white as snow, and regular as a set of pearls; but I rather preferred the opposite style of Marie, who was slighter in her person, graver, and whose long dark eyes and penciled brows alone gave lustre and expression to an oval face, and a pale yet clear and fine grained skin: these eyes, however, were not so often illuminated by bright flashes of innocent gaiety as those of Lodine, but they made amends by the length and beauty of their soft black lashes. Lodine's admiration was prodigiously excited by my English ear-rings, and rings, &c. She took them up one by one to examine, and exclaimed frequently that she had never seen such beautiful things in her life. Poor little rustic! I hope no unprincipled traveller will ever take advantage of thy simplicity and love of finery, and persuade thee to exchange for toys of a similar description the precious jewels of innocence and good fame. Mr. W. went into the market the next morning, before either Mr. Baillie or myself were up, and remarked that almost every woman there was well looking; he also saw some really beautiful girls among them. There are two neat churches here. The swarms of beggars which assailed us at every town, in this part of the country, were positively quite annoying; their bold and sturdy importunity made me recollect, with regret, the sensitive delicacy of Sterne's poor "Monk," and wish that they were as easily repulsed! Had this been the case, I dare say we should have given them every _sous_ in our possession; but, as it was, I never felt less difficulty in steeling my ears and my heart.

The face of nature seemed like a map, the road was upon such elevated ground. But leaving Saulieu, our route was agreeably varied by a continual alternation of hill and dale; the foreground rocky, enlivened with purple heath and furze. We frequently made the remark, that we had not yet seen a single cottage which could be called pretty since we landed at Calais; and the lovely and picturesque hamlets of the Isle of Wight, the neighbourhood of the New Forest, and of parts of Surrey, returned upon my imagination in all their force. There are woods of dwarf oak near this place, beyond which we caught, for the first time during our tour, the view of a mountain in the horizon. We changed horses at Pierre Ecrite, where we met with a postillion who was a living image of Don Quixote. I, who am such an enthusiastic admirer of the latter, could willingly have given a double fee for the pleasure I took in contemplating his faithful resemblance; the loose shamoy leather doublet, brown beaver Spanish-looking flapped hat; long, black, greasy hair, hanging in strings about his scraggy neck and doleful visage; the wild, eager, prominent, dark eyes, &c.--all was complete! The French drivers differ in many particulars from ours; in one respect alone there is a wide line of demarcation. The former talk a good deal (_en route_) to their horses, while the latter confine themselves to the mute eloquence of the whip and spur.

The country now assumes a totally new character. The hills rise into the dignity of mountains, and are entirely barren, save in the immediate vicinity of a little valley or two which smiles between them, when their rough granite sides are clothed with partial underwood; these valleys have a verdant and cultivated effect, from being well wooded, and also from the unusual practice of inclosing the fields with hedges. Indeed the whole scene for three or four miles before you come to Autun is bold, rich, and beautiful. We were told that the people here and in the South of France were (generally speaking) extremely well-disposed towards the Bourbon government, disliking the remembrance of Bonaparte.

Autun, an ugly town, yet most romantically situated at the foot of three mountains covered with superb woods. Here are some fine gateways of Corinthian architecture, baths, and a cathedral. We went to look at the latter, and saw several women there telling their beads, who cast an eye of curiosity upon us in the midst of their devotions, while their fingers and lips continued to move with great rapidity. I peeped into several vacant confessionals, which resembled little sentry-boxes, partitioned into two apartments, in one of which there is a seat for the priest, and in the other a grated aperture through which the penitent breathes his communications.

The tomb of the president Jennin and his wife is shewn here. It was, I believe, concealed during the fury of the revolution, in common with many similar and sacred curiosities. He was one of _Henri quatre's_ ministers, and a man much esteemed by that sovereign. He cannot have a higher professional eulogium. The costume both of the president and his dame is quaint in the extreme, and the length of her waist is quite ridiculous. Our inn (_la poste_) was comfortable and reasonable. For five francs a-head, they sent us up for dinner (I will for once say what we had for dinner) some capital soup _au ris_, a magnificent jack, a duck stewed with pickles, a fowl, white and delicate as those of Dorking, a ragout of sweetbreads in brown sauce, a large dish of craw-fish, potatoes drest _à la maître d'hotel_, Guyere cheese, and four baskets of fruit. The latter evinced the coldness of the climate here, for the peaches were diminutive, crude, and colourless, the grapes rather sour, and the cherries hard, tough, and not bigger than black currants.

Leaving Autun, we passed over a very steep granite mountain of that name, covered in the most luxuriant profusion with trees of every sort, but chiefly oak: the road wound round the sides till it reached nearly the summit of this mountain in graceful sweeps. It rained during our ascent, and the groups of women emerging at intervals from the woody recesses in the steeps above us, with their gay coloured cotton handkerchiefs held over their white caps, to shelter them from the scudding shower, looked highly picturesque. The male costume here becomes marked; it consists of a very large black hat, (with a low crown and an enormous breadth of brim,) round which is sometimes worn a string of red and white beads; a dark blue linen jacket and trowsers, coloured waistcoat, white shirt, with a square deep collar thrown open at the throat, and _sabots_. We could plainly hear the babbling of the brook which runs among these sylvan retreats. My husband gathered me some blackberries in the woods, and I longed to accompany him in his rambles, instead of remaining in the carriage. Altogether it was the most romantic scene I had ever beheld, and my exclamations of admiration reaching the ears of the postillion, (who was easing his horses by walking by their side) he came up to the window, to ask me if I had ever seen such a beautiful thing in my own country? I assured him I had not, and he graciously added that he would shew me a very grand plain also in a few minutes. Our Swiss attendant, however, (Christian) did not seem to approve of all these commendations, and could not refrain from throwing out a hint, that we should see much finer things in _his_ country. This mountain is covered with wild strawberries in the season. Bonaparte intended to have made a wider road through it, had not the Fates thought proper to cut short his plans when he least expected it. The view of the promised plain was fertile as that of Canaan; the glimpses of it caught occasionally through the openings of the rocks were charming. I liked the national pride of the postillion; applied thus to the beauties of nature, it had almost a character of refinement: he was a good-humoured, merry-looking, ugly fellow, who seemed as if he had never known a care in his life; but (the truth must be told) he was a great admirer of Bonaparte, and said he should live and die in the hope of his return. He had laid by his green jacket and badge in his box, thinking it not impossible that he might want to wear it again one day; at all events he trusted to see the young son upon the throne, and spoke of him with much affectionate emotion. Bonaparte had been driven by this man (upon his flight from Elba,) and this puts me in mind, that I omitted to mention the circumstance of my having slept in the same bed which he then occupied at Autun; I think he must have left his troubled spirit behind him, for my dreams were perturbed and melancholy in the greatest degree! There are plenty of wolves and wild boars in this neighbourhood; five of the latter were killed the week before. I expected to have met with gipsies, but neither here, nor in any other part of the continent, had we yet encountered one of the race.

At St. Emilan, (a small village) we stopt to breakfast: it was a merry, cheerful meal. We sat round the blazing faggots in the cottage kitchen of la Poste, and boiled our eggs in a vessel which I believe was an old iron shaving pot; the milk (for our coffee) was served up in a large earthen tureen, with a pewter ladle; and the cups were of a dirty yellow cracked ware, that I am sure my cook would not suffer to be exhibited in her scullery. The bread was sour, and so was the fruit, but I never remember to have enjoyed a breakfast more thoroughly; so true is it, that hunger is the best sauce. The host (seeing that we were English) asked if we would not choose our _pain_ to be _grillé_? and was proceeding to broil it accordingly, instead of toasting it, if we had not preferred the loaf in its natural state. We were somewhat surprised at seeing a print over the chimney of Dr. Nicholas Saunderson, Professor of Astronomy at Cambridge. An obscure village kitchen in the heart of France was the last place where one would have expected to have found such a thing. The hostess had bought it many years since at a sale of the property of the celebrated Buffon.

Seeing some cows ploughing in the fields here, which was what we had never before witnessed, our servant Christian gave us an account of the manner of conducting that operation in Switzerland; "de only difference is (said he) dat dere de _cows_ be all _oxes_." The costume of the _paysannes_ is very picturesque; a straw hat, of the gipsy form, and large as an umbrella, rather short petticoat, gay coloured handkerchief, deep bordered white cap, and _sabots_. The landscape was rather pretty for some distance beyond St. Emilan.

We now began to meet with vineyards again, as we descended from these bleak and elevated regions. A brook wound through the lowlands, fringed with willows, by means of which we could as usual trace its course for miles. I forgot to mention the _cajoleries_ made use of by a set of little beggar children, the preceding day. The white beaver hats worn by my husband and Mr. W. struck their fancy not a little, and they ran after the carriage with incredible perseverance, calling out, _Vivent les chapeaux blancs! Vivent les jolis messieurs! vive la jolie dame! vive le joli carrosse! vive le roi, et vive le bon Dieu!_ We were engaged in lamenting the drawback of a _goître_ (or swelling in the throat) to the beauty of a very pretty woman, whom we had just seen, when in going down a steep hill we met with an accident, which might have been serious. The harness (made of old ropes) suddenly broke, one of the horses fell down, the postillion was thrown off, and the other horses continuing to trot on without stopping, we felt the carriage go over some soft substance, which we concluded to be the person of their unfortunate driver. Both the gentlemen involuntarily exclaimed "he is killed!" when we were relieved by seeing him running by the side of the animals, very little the worse for his fall. The poor horse was the greatest sufferer, as the wheels went twice over his neck! however, even he was not much hurt, and was able to rise and go on with his work in a few seconds. The great creature in the middle was an old, scrambling, wilful beast, who liked his own way, and I believe he would never have stopt, had not his bridle been seized by a man in the road. I was very much alarmed for the moment, and so I rather suspect was our trusty valet, who presented himself at the door to inquire if "Madame was frighted," with a face as white as his own neckcloth. This _contretems_ would not have occurred had we not changed our horses and postillion a few moments before it happened, with those belonging to another carriage which we met on the way. The country continued rather pretty, and was also inclosed; were it not for the vineyards, it would be like many parts of England. We saw a little insignificant chateau or two, and that reminds me of the very dull effect of all the houses in France when seen from a distance--they have universally the air of being shut up, owing to the _jalousies_ being painted white instead of green.

Chalons sur Saone; rather a pretty town: there is a stone fountain here, with a statue of Neptune, well executed. We stopt at the hotel du Parc, a reasonable and tolerably well appointed inn, though by no means deserving of the pompous commendation bestowed upon it in the printed Tourist's Guide, where it is mentioned as being the best in France. Mr. W. suffered some annoyance from bugs, which I must ever consider as great drawbacks to comfort. We were attended at dinner by the first _male_ waiter we had seen since leaving Paris, from which Chalons is about two hundred miles distant. The people in the town stared at and followed us about in rather a troublesome manner; I believe they were attracted by the white hats, and my travelling cap, so different from any of their own costumes.

People talk a great deal about the warmth of the South of France, but all I can say is, that as soon as we approached it, we ordered fires, while we had left our countrymen in frigid England fainting with heat! I may as well indulge myself in a few more desultory remarks while I am about it, particularly as our narrative just now is rather bare of incident. The first is, the great inferiority of the French cutlery to ours: all their knives are extremely coarse and bad; and with regard to the forks and spoons (both of which, to do them justice, are almost always of silver), they do not seem ever to have come in contact with a bit of whiting or a leather rubber since they were made! Plate-powder of course is an unknown invention here. How would our butlers at home (so scrupulously nice in the arrangement of their sideboard) have stared, could they have beheld these shabby appurtenances of a foreign dinner table! They are not less behind-hand also with respect to the locks of their doors, all of which are wretchedly finished, even in their best houses. Their carriages are generally ugly, shabby, badly built, and inelegant; and they have some domestic customs (existing even in the midst of the utmost splendor and refinement,) which are absolutely revolting to the imagination of an English person, and to which no person who knows what real cleanliness and comfort means, could ever be reconciled; but the French are, beyond all doubt, an innately filthy race,--with them _l'apparence_ is all in all.

Leaving Chalons sur Saone, we observed large fields planted with Turkey wheat, called here _Turquie_; they mix it with other flour in their bread. There is nothing but barren stubble for a length of way, and we should have found the prospect excessively wearying and tiresome, had not a bold hill or two in the distance afforded a slight degree of relief. We saw a man sowing among the stubble, which they plough up after the seed is sown, thereby saving the labour of the harrow; the practice is not general, however.

About three miles from Tournus, we ascended a very steep hill, covered with underwood and vines, and were refreshed by the sight of a little pasture land. From the summit a surprisingly fine country burst upon us--the river Saone leading its tranquil waters through a rich plain, the town of Tournus with its bridge and spires, and the chain of Alpine mountains bounding the distant horizon, were altogether charming; the latter appeared like a continued ridge of gray clouds, Mont Blanc towering far above them all. We formed some idea of the magnitude of this hoary giant from the circumstance of our being able thus to see him at the distance of a hundred and fifty miles! He looked, however, like a thin white vapour, rising amid the lovely blue of the summer sky.

At Tournus, where we stopt to breakfast, the _maîtresse de la maison_ was a very pretty woman, but I cannot praise her taste in china ware; the cups she set before us were of a most disgusting shape and material, and of enormous proportions; they resembled our coarse red flower-pots glazed, and it was with difficulty that I could prevail upon myself to taste the tea or coffee (I forget which) that they contained. The women in this neighbourhood wear a singular head-dress, a black beaver hat, of the size and form of a small soup plate, placed flat upon the crown of the head, with three long knots of broad black riband, hanging down, one behind, and one on each side the face. They have a little white cap, called _la coquette_, under this, with a coarse open lace border, standing stiff off the temples, something like that of Mary, Queen of Scots. This place is celebrated for its pretty women, and we remarked many ourselves. I took a hasty sketch of one as we changed horses. There is a great quantity of hemp grown here. The weather now began to be intensely hot; and we did not wonder at this, as we were in the same latitude as that of Verona and Venice. The former chill, which I mentioned upon first approaching the south of France, was quite an accidental circumstance, partly induced by our being at that time upon extremely high ground, whereas the temperature of the valleys is very different.