As our present journey was undertaken principally for the benefit of my health,...
As our present journey was undertaken principally for the benefit of my health, it was necessary that we should travel slowly, and take occasional rests. After our journey from Dieppe to the capital, we remained five days in Paris for this purpose. The first part of this book having conducted the reader by another route to Paris, and given a better description of that city than I am able to supply, I have not thought it necessary to insert the details of our journey thither; I shall content myself with remarking, that we had already gained considerable experience in French travelling, and were pretty well prepared to commence our journey toward the south.—On the 7th of November, therefore, we arranged matters for our departure with the voiturier, or carriage-hirer, who agrees to carry us (six in number), with all our baggage, which weighs nearly four cwt. to Lyons, a distance of 330 miles, for the sum of 630 francs, or, at our exchange, nearly L.30. As this bargain was made for us by Mr B——, a French gentleman, it may afford a good standard for this style of travelling.
We travel at the rate of 10 or 12 leagues a-day; and for invalids or persons wishing to see the country, this is by far the most pleasant, as well as the most economical way. There are two other methods of travelling, namely, en poste, which, though rapid, is very expensive; the charge being, at least a horse, often more, for each person, and very little baggage being taken; and the other is in a diligence, which, as it travels night and day, would not do for us. The carriage we now have is a large and commodious coach, very neat and clean, and we have three good strong horses. Our journey has as yet been varied by very little incident. The amusement derived from travelling in a foreign country, and becoming gradually familiarised to foreign manners,—the contrast between the style of travelling here, and that which you are accustomed to in England,—the amusing groupes of the villagers, who flock out of their houses, to see the English pass,—the grotesque and ludicrous figures of the French beggars, who, in the most unbounded variety of costume, surround the carriage the moment we stop,—and the solemn taciturnity of Monsieur Roger, our coachman, who is an extraordinary exception to the general vivacity of his nation; these are the only circumstances which serve at present to exhilarate our spirits, and to remove the tedium of French travelling.
Between Paris and Montargis, as we travelled during the day, we had a good opportunity of seeing the country. But we passed through it, to be sure, at an unfavourable season of the year. The vines were all withered, and their last leaves falling off. The elm, oak, and maple, were almost bare. There is not much fine wood in that part of the country through which we passed; and on the side of the road, there were many wild and sad looking swamps, with nothing but willow and poplars docked off for the twigs. The chief produce seems to be in grapes and wheat; the wheat here is further advanced than between Dieppe and Paris. The cows are of the same kind, the horses smaller, weaker, and yet dearer than those of Normandy; the agricultural instruments are massy and awkward; their ploughing is, however, very neat and regular, though not deep; their plough here has wheels, and seems easily managed; they harrow the land most effectually, having sometimes 10 or 12 horses in succession, each drawing a separate harrow over the same ground. The farm-horses, though very poor to an English eye, are fortunately much better than the horses for travelling. The stacks of grain, though rarely seen, are very neatly built. We left the grand road at Fontainbleau, and took the route by Nevers to Lyons. We have found it hitherto by no means equal to the other. No stone causeway in the middle, and at this time of the year, I should fear it is always as we found it, very heavy and dirty.
Our journey hitherto has not allowed of our mixing much among or conversing with the people; but still we cannot but be struck with the dissimilarity of manners from those of our own country. The French are not now uniformly, found the same merry, careless, polite, and sociable people they were before the revolution; but we may trust that they are gradually improving; and although one can easily distinguish among the lower ranks, the fierce uncivilized ruffians, who have been raised from their original insignificance by Napoleon to work his own ends, yet the real peasantry of the country are generally polite.
At the inns, the valets and ostlers were for the most part old soldiers who had marched under Napoleon; they seemed happy, or at least always expressed themselves happy, at being allowed to return to their homes: one of them was particularly eloquent in describing the horrors of the last few months; he concluded by saying, "that had things gone on in this way for a few months longer, Napoleon must have made the women march." They affirm, however, that there is a party favourable to Bonaparte, consisting of those whose trade is war, and who have lived by his continuance on the throne; but that this party is not strong, and little to be feared: Would that this were true! When we were in Paris, there were a number of caricatures ridiculing the Bourbons; but these miserable squibs are no test of the public feeling. Napoleon certainly has done much for Paris; the marks of his magnificence are there every where to be seen; but the further we travel, the more are we convinced that he has done littler for the interior of the country.
There is about every town and village an air of desolation; most of the houses seem to have wanted repairs for a long time. The inns must strike every English traveller, as being of a kind entirely new to him. They are like great old castles half furnished. The dirty chimneys suit but ill with the marble chimney-pieces, and the gilded chairs and mirrors, plundered in the revolution; the tables from which you eat are of ill polished common wood; the linen coarse though clean. The cutlery, where they have any, is very bad; but in many of the inns, trusting, no doubt, to the well known expedition of French fingers, they put down only forks to dinner.
We travel at the rate of 10 or 12 leagues a-day; and for invalids or persons wishing to see the country, this is by far the most pleasant, as well as the most economical way. There are two other methods of travelling, namely, en poste, which, though rapid, is very expensive; the charge being, at least a horse, often more, for each person, and very little baggage being taken; and the other is in a diligence, which, as it travels night and day, would not do for us. The carriage we now have is a large and commodious coach, very neat and clean, and we have three good strong horses. Our journey has as yet been varied by very little incident. The amusement derived from travelling in a foreign country, and becoming gradually familiarised to foreign manners,—the contrast between the style of travelling here, and that which you are accustomed to in England,—the amusing groupes of the villagers, who flock out of their houses, to see the English pass,—the grotesque and ludicrous figures of the French beggars, who, in the most unbounded variety of costume, surround the carriage the moment we stop,—and the solemn taciturnity of Monsieur Roger, our coachman, who is an extraordinary exception to the general vivacity of his nation; these are the only circumstances which serve at present to exhilarate our spirits, and to remove the tedium of French travelling.
Between Paris and Montargis, as we travelled during the day, we had a good opportunity of seeing the country. But we passed through it, to be sure, at an unfavourable season of the year. The vines were all withered, and their last leaves falling off. The elm, oak, and maple, were almost bare. There is not much fine wood in that part of the country through which we passed; and on the side of the road, there were many wild and sad looking swamps, with nothing but willow and poplars docked off for the twigs. The chief produce seems to be in grapes and wheat; the wheat here is further advanced than between Dieppe and Paris. The cows are of the same kind, the horses smaller, weaker, and yet dearer than those of Normandy; the agricultural instruments are massy and awkward; their ploughing is, however, very neat and regular, though not deep; their plough here has wheels, and seems easily managed; they harrow the land most effectually, having sometimes 10 or 12 horses in succession, each drawing a separate harrow over the same ground. The farm-horses, though very poor to an English eye, are fortunately much better than the horses for travelling. The stacks of grain, though rarely seen, are very neatly built. We left the grand road at Fontainbleau, and took the route by Nevers to Lyons. We have found it hitherto by no means equal to the other. No stone causeway in the middle, and at this time of the year, I should fear it is always as we found it, very heavy and dirty.
Our journey hitherto has not allowed of our mixing much among or conversing with the people; but still we cannot but be struck with the dissimilarity of manners from those of our own country. The French are not now uniformly, found the same merry, careless, polite, and sociable people they were before the revolution; but we may trust that they are gradually improving; and although one can easily distinguish among the lower ranks, the fierce uncivilized ruffians, who have been raised from their original insignificance by Napoleon to work his own ends, yet the real peasantry of the country are generally polite.
At the inns, the valets and ostlers were for the most part old soldiers who had marched under Napoleon; they seemed happy, or at least always expressed themselves happy, at being allowed to return to their homes: one of them was particularly eloquent in describing the horrors of the last few months; he concluded by saying, "that had things gone on in this way for a few months longer, Napoleon must have made the women march." They affirm, however, that there is a party favourable to Bonaparte, consisting of those whose trade is war, and who have lived by his continuance on the throne; but that this party is not strong, and little to be feared: Would that this were true! When we were in Paris, there were a number of caricatures ridiculing the Bourbons; but these miserable squibs are no test of the public feeling. Napoleon certainly has done much for Paris; the marks of his magnificence are there every where to be seen; but the further we travel, the more are we convinced that he has done littler for the interior of the country.
There is about every town and village an air of desolation; most of the houses seem to have wanted repairs for a long time. The inns must strike every English traveller, as being of a kind entirely new to him. They are like great old castles half furnished. The dirty chimneys suit but ill with the marble chimney-pieces, and the gilded chairs and mirrors, plundered in the revolution; the tables from which you eat are of ill polished common wood; the linen coarse though clean. The cutlery, where they have any, is very bad; but in many of the inns, trusting, no doubt, to the well known expedition of French fingers, they put down only forks to dinner.
Dieses Kapitel ist Teil des Buches TRAVELS IN FRANCE, DURING THE YEARS 1814-15.