Before and after Waterloo
by Edward Stanley · English · Gutenberg #30564 · 480,999 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Before and after Waterloo
Author: Edward Stanley
Editor: Jane H. Adeane
Maud Grenfell
Release date: November 29, 2009 [eBook #30564]
Language: English
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[Illustration: book's cover]
BEFORE AND AFTER WATERLOO
[Illustration: _Le courier du Rhin perd tout en revenant de la foire de
Leipsig._]
BEFORE AND AFTER WATERLOO
LETTERS
FROM
EDWARD STANLEY
SOMETIME BISHOP OF NORWICH
(1802; 1814; 1816)
EDITED BY JANE H. ADEANE AND MAUD GRENFELL
LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
ADELPHI TERRACE
MCMVII
(_All rights reserved._)
ECHOES OF PAST DAYS
AT
ALDERLEY RECTORY
[Illustration: _Edward Stanley D.D._
_Bishop of Norwich_
_n. 1780 ob. 1849_]
CONTENTS
PAGE
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF EDWARD STANLEY 9
CHAPTER I
NEW FRANCE AND OLD EUROPE 25
CHAPTER II
AFTER NAPOLEON'S FALL 73
CHAPTER III
UNDER THE BOURBON FLAG 97
CHAPTER IV
ON THE TRACK OF NAPOLEON'S ARMY 144
CHAPTER V
THE LOW COUNTRIES 199
CHAPTER VI
THE WATERLOO YEAR 235
CHAPTER VII
AFTER WATERLOO 247
_The originals of most of the letters now published are, with the
drawings that illustrate them, at Llanfawr, Holyhead._
_Some extracts from these letters have already appeared in the "Early
Married Life of Maria Josepha, Lady Stanley," but are here inserted
again by kind permission of Messrs. Longman, and complete Bishop
Stanley's correspondence._
_Portions of letters quoted in Dean Stanley's volume, "Edward and
Catherine Stanley," have also been used with Messrs. Murray's consent._
_In addition to the MSS. at Llanfawr, Lord Stanley of Alderley has
kindly contributed some original letters in his possession._
_J.H.A._
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"LE COURIER DU RHIN" _Frontispiece_
_Sketch brought to England 1814 by General Scott of Thorpe,
one of the detenus in France for ten years after the rupture
of the Peache of Amiens, mentioned page 73._
BISHOP STANLEY _To face page_ 2
_By John Linnell. From a drawing in the possession of
Canon J. Hugh Way, Henbury._
MARGARET OWEN, LADY STANLEY " 10
_From a miniature in the possession of Lady Reade-Carreglwyd,
Anglesey._
"FLIGHT OF INTELLECT" " 17
_Humorous sketch by E. Stanley._
EDWARD STANLEY, 1800 " 25
_By P. Green. The original in the possession of Lord Stanley
of Alderley, at Penrhos, Anglesey._
THE PRISON OF THE TEMPLE " 31
_Sketch by E. Stanley, 1802._
THE GUILLOTINE AT CHALON-SUR-SAÔNE " 43
_Sketch by E. Stanley,_
LORD SHEFFIELD " 73
_By Sir Joshua Reynolds, P.R.A. From an engraving in the
possession of J.H. Adeane, Lanfavar, Holyhead._
KITTY LEYCESTER, MRS. EDWARD STANLEY " 82
_From a drawing by H. Edridge, A.R.A., at Alderley Park,
Cheshire._
PARIS, 1814. OLD BRIDGE AND CHÂTELET " 108
_E. Stanley._
PARIS, LA POMPE, NOTRE DAME " 115
_E. S._
PARISIAN AMUSEMENTS " 141
_E. S._
THE CATACOMBS, PARIS " 143
_E. S._
LAON. HOUSES AND TOWER, 1814 " 161
_E. S._
BERRY AU BAC " 164
_E. S._
VERDUN. BRIDGE " 168
_E. Stanley._
FRENCH DILIGENCE " 193
_E. S._
DUTCH SHIPS " 199
_E. S._
DUTCH DILIGENCE ON BOARD A BOAT " 219
_E. S._
GOAT CARRIAGE FOR THE LITTLE KING OF ROME " 223
_E. S._
DUTCH TABLE D'HOTE " 226
_E. S._
OLD HOUSES, SAARDAM " 228
_E. S._
PETER THE GREAT'S HOUSE, SAARDAM " 230
_E. S._
DUTCH FISHERMEN " 233
_E. S._
DUTCH CARRIAGE " 234
_E. S._
CORN MILLS AT VERNON " 247
_E. S._
FRENCH CABRIOLET " 260
_E. S._
HOUGOUMONT " 263
_E. S._
INTERIOR OF HOUGOUMONT " 265
_E. S._
LA BELLE ALLIANCE " 267
_E. S._
WATERLOO " 270
_E. S._
GHENT. ST. NICHOLAS " 274
_E. S._
PORTE DE HALLE, BRUSSELS, LEADING TO WATERLOO " 276
_E. S._
PARISIAN RAT-CATCHER AND ITINERANT VENDORS " 300
_E. S._
THE GREAT GREEN COACH " 306
_E. S._
ALDERLEY RECTORY _page_ 308
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF EDWARD STANLEY
The letters which are collected in this volume were written from abroad
during the opening years of the nineteenth century, at three different
periods: after the Peace of Amiens in 1802 and 1803, after the Peace of
Paris in 1814, and in the year following Waterloo, June, 1816.
The writer, Edward Stanley, was for thirty-three years an active country
clergyman, and for twelve years more a no less active bishop, at a time
when such activity was uncommon, though not so rare as is sometimes now
supposed.
Although a member of one of the oldest Cheshire families, he did not
share the opinions of his county neighbours on public questions, and his
voice was fearlessly raised on behalf of causes which are now
triumphant, and against abuses which are now forgotten, but which
acutely needed champions and reformers a hundred years ago.
His foreign journeys, and more especially the first of them, had a large
share in determining the opinions which he afterwards maintained against
great opposition from many of his own class and profession. The sight of
France still smarting under the effects of the Reign of Terror, and of
other countries still sunk in Mediævalism, helped to make him a Liberal
with "a passion for reform and improvement, but without a passion for
destruction."
He was born in 1779, the second son and youngest child of Sir John
Stanley, the Squire of Alderley in Cheshire, and of his wife Margaret
Owen (the Welsh heiress of Penrhos in Holyhead Island), who was one of
the "seven lovely Peggies," well known in Anglesey society in the middle
of the eighteenth century.
The pictures of Edward Stanley and his mother, which still hang on the
walls of her Anglesey home, show that he inherited the brilliant Welsh
colouring, marked eyebrows and flashing dark eyes that gave force as
well as beauty to her face. From her, too, came the romantic Celtic
imagination and fiery energy which enabled him to find interests
everywhere, and to make his mark in a career which was not the one he
would have chosen.
[Illustration: _Margaret Owen, Lady Stanley.
n. 1742 ob. 1816._]
"In early years" (so his son the Dean of Westminster records) "he had
acquired a passion for the sea, which he cherished down to the time of
his entrance at college, and which never left him through life. It first
originated, as he believed, in the delight which he experienced, when
between three and four years of age, on a visit to the seaport of
Weymouth; and long afterwards he retained a vivid recollection of the
point where he caught the first sight of a ship, and shed tears because
he was not allowed to go on board. So strongly was he possessed by the
feeling thus acquired, that as a child he used to leave his bed and
sleep on the shelf of a wardrobe, for the pleasure of imagining himself
in a berth on board a man-of-war.... The passion was overruled by
circumstances beyond his control, but it gave a colour to his whole
after-life. He never ceased to retain a keen interest in everything
relating to the navy.... He seemed instinctively to know the history,
character, and state of every ship and every officer in the service. Old
naval captains were often astonished at finding in him a more accurate
knowledge than their own of when, where, how, and under whom, such and
such vessels had been employed. The stories of begging impostors
professing to be shipwrecked seamen were detected at once by his
cross-examinations. The sight of a ship, the society of sailors, the
embarkation on a voyage, were always sufficient to inspirit and delight
him wherever he might be."
His life, when at his mother's home on the Welsh coast, only increased
this liking, and till he went to Cambridge in 1798 his education had not
been calculated to prepare him for a clerical life. He never received
any instruction in classics; of Greek and Latin and mathematics he knew
nothing, and owing to his schools and tutors being constantly changed,
his general knowledge was of a desultory sort.
His force of character, great perseverance and ambition to excel are
shown in the strenuous manner in which he overcame all these obstacles,
and at the close of his college career at St. John's, Cambridge, became
a wrangler in the Mathematical Tripos of 1802.
After a year passed in foreign travel Edward Stanley returned home at
his brother's request, and took command of the Alderley Volunteers--a
corps of defence raised by him on the family estate in expectation of a
French invasion.
In 1803 he was ordained and became curate of Windlesham, in Surrey.
There he remained until he was presented by his father in 1805 to the
living of Alderley, where he threw himself enthusiastically into his
work.
Alderley parish had long been neglected, and there was plenty of scope
for the young Rector.
Before he came, the clerk used to go to the churchyard stile to see
whether there were any more coming to church, for there were seldom
enough to make a congregation, but before Edward Stanley left, his
parish was one of the best organised of the day. He set on foot schemes
of education throughout the county as well as at Alderley, and was
foremost in all reforms.
The Chancellor of the diocese wrote of him: "He inherited from his
family strong Whig principles, which he always retained, and he never
shrank from advocating those maxims of toleration which at that time
formed the chief watchwords of the Whig party."
He was the first who distinctly saw and boldly advocated the advantages
of general education for the people, and set the example of the extent
to which general knowledge might be communicated in a parochial school.
"To analyse the actual effects of his ministrations on the people would
be difficult, ... but the general result was what might have been
expected. Dissent was all but extinguished. The church was filled, the
communicants many."
He helped to found a Clerical Society, which promoted friendly
intercourse with clergy holding various views, and was never afraid of
avowing his opinions on subjects he thought vital, lest he should in
consequence become unpopular.
He grudged no trouble about anything he undertook, and the people
rejoiced when they heard "the short, quick tramp of his horse's feet as
he went galloping up their lanes." The sick were visited and cheered,
and the children kindly cared for in and out of school.
It was said of him that "whenever there was a drunken fight in the
village and he knew of it, he would always come out to stop it--there
was such a spirit in him."
Tidings were once brought to him of a riotous crowd, which had assembled
to witness a desperate prize fight, adjourned to the outskirts of his
parish, and which the respectable inhabitants were unable to disperse.
"The whole field" (so one of the humbler neighbours represented it) "was
filled and all the trees round about, when in about a quarter of an hour
I saw the Rector coming up the road on his little black horse as quick
as lightning, and I trembled for fear they should harm him. He rode
into the field and just looked round as if he thought the same, to see
who there was that would be on his side. But it was not needed; he rode
into the midst of the crowd and in one moment it was all over. There was
a great calm; the blows stopped; it was as if they would all have wished
to cover themselves up in the earth. All from the trees they dropped
down directly. No one said a word and all went away humbled."
The next day the Rector sent for the two men, not to scold them, but to
speak to them, and sent them each away with a Bible. The effect on the
neighbourhood was very great, and put a stop to the practice which had
been for some time prevalent in the adjacent districts.
His influence was increased by his early knowledge of the people, and by
the long connection of his family with the place.
Two years after Edward had accepted the incumbency, his father died in
London, but he had long before given up living in Cheshire, and Alderley
Park had been occupied at his desire by his eldest son, afterwards Sir
John, who had made his home there since his marriage in 1796.
Both the Stanley brothers married remarkable women. Lady Maria Josepha
Holroyd, Sir John's wife, was the elder daughter of the first Lord
Sheffield, the friend and biographer of Gibbon, and her strong
personality impressed every one who met her.
Catherine, wife of the Rector, was the daughter of the Rev. Oswald
Leycester, of Stoke Rectory, in Shropshire. Her father was one of the
Leycesters of Toft House, only a few miles from Alderley, and at Toft
most of Catherine's early years were spent. She was engaged to Edward
Stanley before she was seventeen, but did not marry him till nearly two
years later, in 1810.
During the interval she spent some time in London with Sir John and Lady
Maria Stanley, and in the literary society of the opening years of the
nineteenth century she was much sought after for her charm and
appreciativeness, and for what Sydney Smith called her "porcelain
understanding." The wits and lions of the Miss Berrys' parties vied with
each other in making much of her; Rogers and Scott delighted in her
conversation--in short, every one agreed, as her sister-in-law Maria
wrote, that "in Kitty Leycester Edward will indeed have a treasure."
After her marriage she kept up with her friends by active correspondence
and by annual visits to London. Still, "to the outside world she was
comparatively unknown; but there was a quiet wisdom, a rare
unselfishness, a calm discrimination, a firm decision which made her
judgment and her influence felt through the whole circle in which she
lived." Her power and charm, coupled with her husband's, made Alderley
Rectory an inspiring home to their children, several of whom inherited
talent to a remarkable degree.
Her sister Maria[1] writes from Hodnet, the home of the poet Heber: "I
want to know all you have been doing since the day that bore me away
from happy Alderley. Oh! the charm of a rectory inhabited by a Reginald
Heber or an Edward Stanley!"
That Rectory and its surroundings have been perfectly described in the
words of the author of "Memorials of a Quiet Life"[2]: "A low house,
with a verandah forming a wide balcony for the upper storey, where
bird-cages hung among the roses; its rooms and passages filled with
pictures, books, and old carved oak furniture. In a country where the
flat pasture lands of Cheshire rise suddenly to the rocky ridge of
Alderley Edge, with the Holy Well under an overhanging cliff; its
gnarled pine-trees, its storm-beaten beacon tower ready to give notice
of an invasion, and looking far over the green plain to the smoke which
indicates in the horizon the presence of the great manufacturing towns."
There was constant intercourse between the Park and the Rectory, and the
two families with a large circle of friends led most interesting and
busy lives. The Rector took delight in helping his seven nieces with
their Italian and Spanish studies, in fostering their love of poetry and
natural history, and in developing the minds of his own young children.
He wrote plays for them to act and birthday odes for them to recite.
[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF INTELLECT
Skit on the recent discovery of the motive power of steam.--E. Stanley.
_To face p. 17._]
Legends of the countryside, domestic tragedies and comedies were turned
into verse, whether it were the Cheshire legend of the Iron Gates or the
fall of Sir John Stanley and his spectacles into the Alderley mere, the
discovery of a butterfly or the loss of "a superfine piece of Bala
flannel."
His caricatures illustrated his droll ideas, as in his sketches of the
six "Ologies from Entomology to Apology." His witty and graceful
"Bustle's Banquet" or the "Dinner of the Dogs" made a trio with the
popular poems then recently published of the "Butterfly's Ball" and "The
Peacock at Home."
"And since Insects give Balls and Birds are so gay,
'Tis high time to prove that we Dogs have our day."
He wrote a "Familiar History of Birds," illustrated by many personal
observations, for throughout his life he never lost a chance of watching
wild bird life. In his early days he had had special opportunities of
doing so among the rocks and caverns of Holyhead Island. He tells of the
myriads of sea-birds who used to haunt the South Stack Rock there, in
the days when it was almost inaccessible; and of their dispersal by the
building of the first lighthouse there in 1808, when for a time they
deserted it and never returned in such numbers.
His own family at Alderley Rectory consisted of three sons and two
daughters.
The eldest son, Owen, had his father's passion for the sea, and was
allowed to follow his bent. His scientific tastes led him to adopt the
surveying branch of his profession, and in 1836, when appointed to the
_Terror_ on her expedition to the North Seas, he had charge of the
astronomical and magnetic operations.
When in command of the _Britomart_, in 1840, he secured the North Island
of New Zealand to the English by landing and hoisting the British flag,
having heard that a party of French emigrants intended to land that day.
They did so, but under the protection of the Union Jack.
In 1846 Owen Stanley commanded the _Rattlesnake_ in an important and
responsible expedition to survey the unknown coast of New Guinea; this
lasted four years and was very successful, but the great strain and the
shock of his brother Charles' death at Hobart Town, at this time, were
too much for him. He died suddenly on board his ship at Sydney in 1850,
"after thirty-three years' arduous service in every clime."
Professor Huxley, in whose arms he breathed his last, was surgeon to
this expedition, and his first published composition was an article
describing it. He speaks of Owen Stanley thus: "Of all those who were
actively engaged upon the survey, the young commander alone was destined
to be robbed of his just rewards; he has raised an enduring monument in
his works, and his epitaph shall be the grateful thanks of many a
mariner threading his way among the mazes of the Coral Seas."
The second and most distinguished of the three sons was Arthur Penrhyn
Stanley, of whom it was said "that in the wideness of his sympathies,
the broadness of his toleration, and the generosity of his temperament
the brilliant Dean of Westminster was a true son of his father, the
Bishop of Norwich."
The third son, Charles Edward, a young officer in the Royal Engineers,
who had done good work in the Ordnance Survey of Wales, and was already
high in his profession, was suddenly cut off by fever at his official
post in Tasmania in 1849.
The eldest daughter, Mary, had great powers of organisation, was a keen
philanthropist and her father's right hand at Norwich. In 1854 she took
charge of a detachment of nurses who followed Miss Nightingale's pioneer
band to the East, and worked devotedly for the Crimean sick and wounded
at the hospital at Koulalee.
Katherine, the youngest daughter, a most original character, married Dr.
Vaughan, headmaster of Harrow, Master of the Temple, and Dean of
Llandaff. She survived her whole family and lived till 1899.
The home at Alderley lasted for thirty-three years, during which Edward
Stanley had changed the whole face of the parish and successfully
organised many schemes of improvement in the conditions of the working
classes in his neighbourhood. He could now leave his work to other
hands, and felt that his energies required a wider field, so that when
in 1838 Lord Melbourne offered him the See of Norwich he was induced to
accept the offer, though only "after much hesitation and after a severe
struggle, which for a time almost broke down his usual health and
sanguine spirit."
"It would be vain and useless," he said, "to speak to others of what it
cost me to leave Alderley"; but to his new sphere he carried the same
zeal and indomitable energy which had ever characterised him, and gained
the affection of many who had shuddered at the appointment of a "Liberal
Bishop."
At Norwich his work was very arduous and often discouraging. He came in
the dawn of the Victorian age to attack a wall of customs and abuses
which had arisen far back in the early Georgian era, with no hereditary
connection or influence in the diocese to counteract the odium that he
incurred as a new-comer by the institution of changes which he deemed
necessary.
It was no wonder that for three or four years he had to stem a steady
torrent of prejudice and more or less opposition; but though his
broadminded views were often the subject of criticism, his bitterest
opponents could not withstand the genial, kindly spirit in which he met
their objections.
"At the time of his entrance upon his office party feeling was much more
intense than it has been in later years, and of this the county of
Norfolk presented, perhaps, as strong examples as could be found in any
part of the kingdom."
The bishop was "a Whig in politics and a staunch supporter of a Whig
ministry," but in all the various questions where politics and theology
cross one another he took the free and comprehensive instead of the
precise and exclusive views, and to impress them on others was one chief
interest of his new position.
The indifference to party which he displayed, both in social matters and
in his dealings with his clergy, tended to alienate extreme partisans of
whatever section, and at one time caused him even to be unpopular with
the lower classes of Norwich in spite of his sympathies.
The courage with which the Rector had quelled the prize fight at
Alderley shone out again in the Bishop. "I remember," says an
eye-witness, "seeing Bishop Stanley, on a memorable occasion, come out
of the Great Hall of St. Andrew's, Norwich. The Chartist mob, who lined
the street, saluted the active, spare little Bishop with hooting and
groans. He came out alone and unattended till he was followed by me and
my brother, determined, as the saying is, 'to see him safe home,' for
the mob was highly excited and brutal. Bishop Stanley marched along ten
yards, then turned sharp round and fixed his eagle eyes on the mob, and
then marched ten yards more and turned round again rapidly and gave the
same hawk-like look."
His words and actions must often have been startling to his
contemporaries; when temperance was a new cause he publicly spoke in
support of the Roman Catholic Father Mathew, who had promoted it in
Ireland; when the idea of any education for the masses was not
universally accepted he advocated admitting the children of Dissenters
to the National Schools; and when the stage had not the position it now
holds, he dared to offer hospitality to one of the most distinguished of
its representatives, Jenny Lind, to mark his respect for her life and
influence.
For all this he was bitterly censured, but his kindly spirit and
friendly intercourse with his clergy smoothed the way through apparently
insurmountable difficulties, and his powerful aid was ever at hand in
any benevolent movement to advise and organise means of help.
In his home at Norwich the Bishop and Mrs. Stanley delighted to welcome
guests of every shade of opinion, and one of them, a member of a
well-known Quaker family, has recorded her impression of her host's
conversation. "The Bishop talks, darting from one subject to another,
like one impatient of delay, amusing and pleasant," and he is described
on coming to Norwich as having "a step as quick, a voice as firm, a
power of enduring fatigue almost as unbroken as when he traversed his
parish in earlier days or climbed the precipices of the Alps."
In his public life the liveliness of his own interest in scientific
pursuits, the ardour with which he would hail any new discovery, the
vividness of his own observation of Nature would illustrate with an
unexpected brilliancy the worn-out topics of a formal speech. Few who
were present at the meeting when the Borneo Mission was first proposed
to the London public in 1847 can forget the strain of naval ardour with
which the Bishop offered his heartfelt tribute of moral respect and
admiration to the heroic exertions of Sir James Brooke.
It was his highest pleasure to bear witness to the merits or to
contribute to the welfare of British seamen. He seized every opportunity
of addressing them on their moral and religious duties, and many were
the rough sailors whose eyes were dimmed with tears among the
congregations of the crews of the _Queen_ and the _Rattlesnake_, when he
preached on board those vessels at Plymouth, whither he had accompanied
his eldest son, Captain Owen Stanley, to witness his embarkation on his
last voyage.
"The sermon," so the Admiral told Dean Stanley twenty years afterwards,
"was never forgotten. The men were so crowded that they almost sat on
one another's shoulders, with such attention and admiration that they
could scarcely restrain a cheer."
For twelve years his presence was felt as a power for good through the
length and breadth of his diocese; and after his death, in September,
1849, his memory was long loved and revered.
"I felt as if a sunbeam had passed through my parish," wrote a clergyman
from a remote corner of his diocese, after a visit from him, "and had
left me to rejoice in its genial and cheerful warmth. From that day I
would have died to serve him; and I believe that not a few of my humble
flock were animated by the same kind of feeling."
His yearly visits to his former parish of Alderley were looked forward
to by those he had known and loved during his long parochial
ministrations as the greatest pleasure of their lives.
"I have been," he writes (in the last year of his life), "in various
directions over the parish, visiting many welcome faces, laughing with
the living, weeping over the dying. It is gratifying to see the cordial
familiarity with which they receive me, and Norwich clergy would
scarcely know me by cottage fires, talking over old times with their
hands clasped in mine as an old and dear friend."
Under the light which streams through the stained glass of his own
cathedral the remains of Bishop Stanley rest in the thoroughfare of the
great congregation.
"When we were children," said a grey-haired Norfolk rector this very
year, "our mother never allowed us to walk upon the stone covering
Bishop Stanley's grave. I have never forgotten it, and would not walk
upon it even now."
"We pass; the path that each man trod
Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds:
What fame is left for human deeds
In endless age? It rests with God."
[Illustration: _P. Green, pinx circa 1800. Emery Walker Ph. Sc._
_Edward Stanley._]
CHAPTER I
NEW FRANCE AND OLD EUROPE
Rouen and its theatres--Painted windows--Paris--Costumes _à la
Française_--The guillotine--Geneva--Vetturino
travelling--Italy--Spain--The Ship _John_ of Leith--Gibraltar.
In June, 1802, Edward Stanley started on the first of those foreign
journeys which, throughout his life, continued to be his favourite form
of holiday.
He had just left Cambridge, having obtained a brilliant degree, and
before taking Orders he set out with his college friend, Edward
Hussey,[3] on the Grand Tour which was then considered necessary to
complete a liberal education.
They were fortunate in the moment of their journey, for the Treaty of
Amiens, which had been concluded only a few months before, had enabled
Englishmen to tour safely in France for the first time for many years;
and every scene in France was full of thrilling interest. The marks of
the Reign of Terror were still plainly to be seen, and the new order of
things which the First Consul had inaugurated was only just beginning.
It was an epoch-making journey to a young man fresh from college, and
Edward Stanley was deeply impressed by what he saw.
He could compare his own experiences with those of his brother and
father, who had been in France before the Revolution, and of his
sister-in-law, Maria Josepha, who had travelled there just before the
Reign of Terror; and in view of the destruction which had taken place
since then, he was evidently convinced that Napoleon's iron hand was the
greatest boon to the country.
He and his companion had the good fortune to leave France before the
short interval of peace ended abruptly, and they were therefore saved
from the fate of hundreds of their friends and fellow-travellers who had
thronged across the Channel in 1802, and who were detained by Napoleon
for years against their will.
Edward Stanley and Edward Hussey left France at the end of June, and
went on to Switzerland, Italy, and finally to Spain, where the
difficulties and dangers which they met, reveal the extraordinary dearth
of personal comfort and civilised habits among that nation at the time.
The dangers and discomforts did not, however, interfere with the
interest and pleasure of the writer who describes them. Then and ever
after, travelling was Edward Stanley's delight, and he took any
adventure in the spirit of the French song--
"Je suis touriste
Quel gai métier."
His letters to his father and brother show that he lost no opportunity
of getting information and of recording what he saw; and he began on
this journey the first of a long series of sketchbooks, by which he
illustrated his later journeys so profusely.
_Edward Stanley to his Father, Sir John T. Stanley, Bart._
ROUEN, _June 11, 1802_.
MY DEAR FATHER,--You have already heard that I arrived here, & have been
fortunate in every thing since I left England. Our passage from Brighton
to Dieppe was short and pleasant, and so was our stay at Dieppe, which
we left the morning after we arrived in it. I never saw France before
the Revolution, & therefore cannot judge of the Contrasted appearance of
its towns, but this I can safely say, that I never before saw such
strong marks of Poverty both in the houses & Inhabitants. I have as yet
seen nothing like a Gentleman; probably many may affect the dress and
manners of the lower Orders, in order to screen themselves & may
consider that an outward show of Poverty is the only way of securing
what Riches they have. I can conceive nothing so melancholy.
When I saw fine seats without Windows or with shattered Roofs, &
everywhere falling to decay, I could not help thinking of their
unfortunate Owners, who, even if they were lucky enough to be reinstated
in their possessions, might fear to repair their Places, lest an
Appearance of comfort might tempt the Government to seize their Effects.
The only Buildings at all tolerable are the Barracks, which in general
are large and well taken care of, & plenty of them there are in every
town and village. Every Person is here a Soldier, ready to turn out at a
moment's warning. This Town is in a flourishing State at present, tho'
during the war not a single ship made its appearance in its Ports; now
there are a great number of Vessels, chiefly Dutch. The Trade is Cotton,
for the Manufactory of Stuffs and Handkerchiefs. It is said to be one of
the dearest towns in France; certainly I have not found things very
cheap. We were at the Play last night. An Opera called "La Dot," and an
after piece called "Blaise & Bullet" were performed. The Actors were
capital, at Drury Lane they could not have acted better. The House is
very large for a Country Theatre and very pretty, but so shockingly
filthy and offensive, that I wondered any Person could go often, but
habit, I suppose, reconciles everything. There were a great many
officers in the Boxes, a haughty set of beings, who treat their
Compatriotes in a very scurvy way. They are the Kings of the place and
do what they please. Indeed, we had a fine Specimen of Liberty during
the Performances. An Actress had been sent to Rouen from Paris, a
wretched Performer she was, but from Paris she came, and the Managers
were obliged to accept her & make her act. The Consequence was, she soon
got hissed, and a Note was thrown on the Stage; whatever it was they
were not permitted to read or make it public till they had shewn it to
the Officer of Police, who in the present Case would not let them read
it. The hissing was, however, continued from Corners of the House, & one
man who sate near us talked in a high style about the People being
imposed on, when in the middle of his Speech I saw this Man of Liberty
jump out of the Box and disappear in an Instant. I opened the Box door
to see what was the cause, when lo! the Lobby was filled with Soldiers,
with their Bayonets fix'd, and the officer was looking about for any
Person who might dare to whistle or hiss, and silent and contented were
the Audience the rest of the Performance. I cannot help mentioning a
Speech I heard this very evening at the Play. A Man was sitting near a
Lady & very angry he was, & attempted often to hiss, but was for some
time kept quiet by the Lady. At last he lost all Patience and exclaimed,
"Ma Foi, Madame, Je ferai ici comme si jétais en Angleterre où on fait
tout ce qu'on plait." And away he went to hiss; with what effect his
determination a l'Angloise was attended, I have mentioned. I afterwards
entered into conversation with the Lady, & when she told me about the
Police Officer not giving permission to read the note, she added,
looking at us, "to you, Gentlemen, this must be a second Comedy." Last
night (Sunday) I went to a Fête about a mile from the Town; we paid 1s.
3d. each. It concluded with a grand Firework. It was a sort of Vauxhall.
In one part of the Gardens they were dancing Cotillons, in another
swinging. In another part bands of Music. I was never so much
entertained as with the Dancers; most of them were Children. One little
set in a Cotillon danced in a Style I could not have fancied possible;
you will think I am telling a _Traveller's_ Story when I tell you I
thought they performed nearly as well as I could have seen at the Opera.
Here, as at the Theatre, Soldiers kept every body in awe; a strong party
of Dragoons were posted round the Gardens with their horses saddled
close at hand ready to act. I din'd yesterday at a Table d'Hôte, with
five French Officers. In my life I never saw such ill bred Blackguards,
dirty in their way of eating, overbearing in their Conversation, tho'
they never condescended to address themselves to us, and more proud and
aristocratical than any of the _ci-devant Noblesse_ could ever have
been. From this Moment I believe all the Accounts I have heard from our
officers of the French officers who were prisoners during the War. They
were always insolent, and excepting in some few cases, ungratefull in
the extreme for any kindness shewn to them.
[Illustration: THE PRISON OF THE TEMPLE, PARIS, JUNE, 1802.
_To face p. 31._]
PARIS, _June 17th_.
The Day before yesterday I arrived in this Metropolis. We left Rouen in
a Diligence & had a pleasant Journey; the Country we passed over was
throughout extremely fertile; whatever Scarcity exists at present in
France, it must be of short duration, as the Harvest promises to be
abundant, and as every Field is corn land, the quantity of Grain will be
immense. Government has indeed now taken every precaution. The Ports of
Rouen & Dieppe were filled with Ships from Embden & Dantzig with Corn.
Our Diligence was accompanied all the Night by a Guard of Dragoons, and
we passed every now and then parties of Foot Soldiers on the Watch. The
reason was, that the road had lately been infested with Robbers, who
attacked the Public Carriages in great numbers, sometimes to the Amount
of 40 together. They in general behaved well to the Passengers,
requiring only any Money belonging to Government which might happen to
be in the Carriage. At present as the Leader is taken and the Band
dispersed, there is no Danger, but it is a good excuse to keep a Number
of Troops in that part of the Country. We entered Paris by St. Denis,
but the fine Church and Royal Palace are not now as they were in your
time. The Former is in part unroofed and considerably damaged--the
latter is a Barrack and from its outward appearance seems to have
suffered much in the Revolution. The City of Paris on entering it by no
means strikes a stranger. In your time it must have been but tolerable,
now it is worse, as every other house seems to be falling down or to be
deserted. We have taken our abode in the Rue de Vivienne at the Hôtel de
Boston, a central Situation and the house tolerably dear. The poor
Hussey suffered so much from a Nest of Buggs the first night, that he
after enduring them to forage on his body for an Hour, left his Bed &
passed the night on a sofa. A propos, I must beg to inform Mr. Hugh
Leycester that I paid Attention to the Conveyances on the road & think
that he will have no reason to complain of them; the vehicles are not
quite so good as in England nor are the Horses, but both are still very
tolerable. The Inns I slept at were very good, and the roads by no means
bad. I have been to a Play every Night since my arrival in Paris and
shall continue so to do till I have seen all the theatres. The first
evening I went to the "Théâtre de la République"; I am told it is the
best. At least the first Actors performed there. It is not to be
compared with any of ours in style of fitting up. The want of light
which first strikes a Stranger's eye on entering a foreign Play-house
has its Advantage. It shews off the Performers and induces the Audience
to pay more Attention to ye Stage, but the brilliant Effect we are used
to find on entering our Theatres is wanting. This House is not fitted up
with any taste. I thought the theatre at Rouen preferable. The famous
Talma, the Kemble, acted in a Tragedy, & Mme. Petit, the Mrs. Siddons
of Paris, performed. The former, I think, must have seen Kemble, as he
resembles him both in person and style of acting, but I did not admire
him so much. In his silent Acting, however, he was very great. Mme.
Petit acted better than any tragic Actress I have ever seen, excepting
Mrs. Siddons. After the Play last Night I went to the Frascati, a sort
of Vauxhall where you pay nothing on entering, but are expected to take
some refreshments. This, Mr. Palmer told me, was the Lounge of the Beau
Monde, who were all to be found here after the Opera & Plays. We have
nothing of the sort in England, therefore I shall not attempt to
describe it. We staid here about an hour. The Company was numerous, & I
suppose the best, at least it was better than any I had seen at the
Theatres or in the Walks, but it appeared to me to be very bad. The Men
I shall say nothing more of, they are all the same. They come to all
Places in dirty Neckcloths or Pocket Handkerchiefs tied round their
necks & most of them have filthy great Coats & Boots, in short, Dress
amongst the Bucks (& I am told that within this Month or two they are
very much improved) seems to be quite out of the Question. As for the
Ladies, O mon Dieu! Madame Récamier's[4] Dress at Boodles was by no
means extraordinary. My sister can describe that and then you may form
some idea of them. By what I can judge from outward appearance, the
Morals of Paris must be at a very low ebb. I may perhaps see more of
them, when I go to the Opera & Parties. I have a thousand things more to
say, but have no room. This Letter has been written at such out of the
way times & by little bits at a time, that I know not how you will
connect it, but I have not a moment to spare in the regular Course of
the Day. It is now between 6 & 7 o'Clock in the Morning, and as I cannot
find my Cloaths am sitting in a Dress à la Mode d'une Dame Française
till Charles comes up with them. Paris is full of English, amongst
others I saw Montague Matthews at the Frascati. I shall stay here till
5th July, as my chance of seeing Buonaparte depends on my staying till
4th, when he reviews the Consular Guard. He is a fine fellow by all
accounts; a Military Government when such a head as his manages
everything cannot be called a Grievance. Indeed, it is productive of so
much order and regularity, that I begin not to dislike it so much. At
the Theatres you have no disturbance. In the streets Carriages are kept
in order--in short, it is supreme and seems to suit this Country vastly
well, but God forbid I should ever witness it in England. You may write
to me and tell others so to do till the 25th of June. Adieu; I cannot
tell when I shall write again. This you know is a Family Epistle,
therefore Farewell to you all.
ED. STANLEY.
I have just paid a visit to Madame de D. She received me very
graciously, & strongly pressed me to stay till 14th of July to be
present at the Grand Day. She says Paris is not now worth seeing, but
then every Person will be in Town. If there is no other way of seeing
Buonaparte I believe I shall stay--but I do not wish it--I shall prefer
Geneva.
_Edward Stanley to his brother, J. T. Stanley._
HOTEL DE BOSTON, RUE VIVIENNE,
_June 21, 1802_.
MY DEAR BROTHER,-- ... I sailed from Brighton on the evening of 8th and
was wafted by a fine Breeze towards this Coast, which we made early on
the morning of 9th, but owing to the tide, which had drifted us too much
to leeward of Dieppe, we were unable to land before noon. We were
carried before the Officer of the municipality, who after taking down
our names, ages, & destination, left us to ramble about at pleasure.
Whatever Dieppe might have been before the Revolution, it is now a
melancholy-looking place. Large houses falling to ruin. Inhabitants
poor, Streets full of Soldiers, & Churches turned into Stables,
Barracks, or Magazines. We staid there but one night & then proceeded in
one of their Diligences to Rouen. These Conveyances you of course have
often seen; they are not as Speedy in their motion as an English Mail
Coach, or as easy as a Curricle, but we have found them very convenient,
& shall not complain of our travelling accommodation if we are always
fortunate enough to meet with these vehicles. At Rouen we staid four
days, as the Town is large and well worth seeing; I then made an attempt
to procure you some painted glass; as almost all the Churches and all
the Convents are destroyed, their fine windows are neglected, & the
panes broken or carried off by almost every person. The _Stable_ from
whence our Diligence started had some beautiful windows, and had I
thought of it in time I think I might have sent you some. As it was I
went to the owner of the Churches & asked him if he would sell any of
the windows. Now tho' ever since he has had possession of them Everybody
has been permitted to demolish at pleasure, he no sooner found that a
Stranger was anxious to procure what to him was of no value, & what he
had hitherto thought worth nothing, than he began to think he might take
advantage & therefore told me that he would give me an answer in a few
days if I would wait till he could see what they were worth. As I was
going the next morning I could not hear the result, but I think you
could for one guinea purchase nearly a whole Church window, at least it
may be worth your while to send to Liverpool to know if any Ship is at
any time going there. The Proprietor of these Churches is a Banker, by
name Tezart; he lives in la Rue aux Ours.
I arrived in Paris on the 15th, and intend staying even till the 14th of
July if I cannot before then see the chief Consul. Hitherto I have been
unfortunate; I have in vain attended at the Thuilleries when the
Consular guard is relieved, and seated myself opposite his box at the
Opera. On the 4th of July, however, there is a Review of his Guard, when
he always appears, then I shall do my utmost to get a view of him. I
cannot be introduced as I have not been at our Court, and no King was
ever more fond of Court Etiquette than Buonaparte. He resides in the
Thuilleries; opposite to his windows is the place de Carousel, which he
has Separated from the great Area by a long Iron railing with three
Gates. On each side of the 2 side Gates are placed the famous brazen
horses from Venice, the middle Gate has 2 Lodges, where are stationed
Horse Guards. Above this Gate are four Gilt Spears on which are perched
the Cock & a Civic wreath which I at first took for the Roman Eagle,
borne before their Consuls, resembling it in every other respect. These
Gates are shut every night and also on every Review day. Paris, like all
the Country, swarms with Soldiers; in Every Street there is a Barrack.
In Paris alone there are upwards of 15 thousand men. I must say nothing
of the Government. It is highly necessary in France for every person,
particularly Strangers, to be careful in delivering their opinions; I
can only say that the _Slavery_ of it is infinitely more to my taste
than the _Freedom_ of France. The public Exhibitions (and indeed almost
Every thing is public) are on a scale of Liberality which should put
England to the blush. Everything is open without money. The finest
library I ever saw is open Daily to Every person. You have but to ask
for any book, & you are furnished with it, and accommodated with table,
pens, ink, & paper. The Louvre, the finest Collection of pictures and
Statues in the world, is likewise open, & not merely open to view. It is
filled, excepting on the public days, with artists who are at liberty to
copy anything they please. Where in England can we boast of anything
like this? Our British Museum is only to be seen by interest, & then
shewn in a very cursory manner. Our Public Libraries at the Universities
are equally difficult of access. It is the most politic thing the
Government could have done. The Arts are here encouraged in a most
liberal manner. Authors, Painters, Sculptors, and, in short, all persons
in France, have opportunities of improving themselves which can not be
found in any other Country in the World, not even in Britain. You may
easily conceive that I who am fond of painting was most highly
Entertained in viewing the Great Gallery of the Louvre, & yet you will,
I am sure, think my taste very deficient when I tell you that I do not
admire the finest pictures of Raphael, Titian, Guido, and Paul Veronese,
so much as I do those of Rubens, Vandyck, & le Brun, nor the landscapes
of Claude and Poussin so much as Vernet's. Rembrandt, Gerard Dow & his
pupils Mieris and Metsu please me more than any other artists. In the
whole Collection they have but one of Salvator's, but that one, I think,
is preferable to all Raphael's. I have not yet seen statues enough to be
judge of their beauties. The Apollo of Belvidere & the celebrated
Laocoon lose, therefore, much of their Excellence when seen by me. There
is still a fine Collection in the Palace of Versailles, but the view of
that once Royal Palace excites the most melancholy ideas. The furniture
was all sold by auction, & nothing is left but the walls and their
pictures. The Gardens are much neglected, & will soon, unless the Consul
again makes it a royal residence, be quite ruined. You have, I daresay,
often heard that the Morals & Society of Paris were very bad; indeed,
you have heard nothing but the truth. As for the men, they are the
dirtiest set of fellows I ever saw, and most of them, especially the
Officers, very unlike Gentlemen. The dress of the women, with few
exceptions, is highly indecent; in London, even in Drury Lane, I have
seen few near so bad. Before I left England, I had heard, but never
believed, that some Ladies paraded the streets in men's Clothes. It is
singular that in the first genteel-looking person I spoke to in Paris to
ask my way, I was answered by what I then perceived a lady in Breeches &
boots, since when I have seen several at the Theatres, at the Frascati &
fashionable lounges of the evening, & in the Streets and public walks! I
have not heard from you since I left England. Excepting the letter which
was forwarded from Grosvenor Place. I hope to hear at Geneva, where I
shall go as soon as the great Consul will permit me by shewing himself.
The Country is in the finest state possible, and their weather most
favourable. They have had a scarcity of corn lately, but the approaching
Harvest will most assuredly remove that. Adieu; I hope Mrs. Stanley has
already received a very trifling present from me; I only sent it because
it was classic wood. I mean the necklace made of Milton's mulberry-tree.
I brought the wood from Christ's College Garden, in Cambridge, where
Milton himself planted it.
Believe me,
Yours sincerely,
EDWD. STANLEY.
_From Edward Stanley to his Father and Mother._
LYONS, _July 20, 1802_.
I shall not write you a very long letter as I intend to send you a more
particular account of myself from Geneva, for which place we propose
setting out to-morrow, not by the Diligence, but by the Vetturino, a
mode of travelling which, of course, you are well acquainted with, being
the usual and almost only method practised throughout Italy unless a
person has his own carriage. I am to pay £3 10s. for ourselves and
Suite, but not including bed and provisions. South of the Alps these are
agreed for.
After every endeavour to see Buonaparte had proved vain, on the 6th of
July we quitted Paris in a Cabriolet. All this night, and especially
the next day, we thought we should be broiled to death; the thermometer
was at 95 the noon of July 7th; as you relish that, you may have some
idea of the Luxury you would have enjoyed with us.
We arrived at Troyes on the evening of the 7th, an old town in
Champagne. People civil and excellent Living, as the Landlord was a
_ci-devant_ Head cook to a convent of Benedictines, but Hussey and
Charles were almost devoured in the Night by our old enemies the Bugs.
Hussey was obliged to change his room and sleep all next day. I escaped
without the least visit, and I am persuaded that if a famine wasted the
Bugs of the whole Earth, they would sooner perish than touch me.
We left Troyes early on the morning of the 9th, arrived at Chatillon at
four, and stayed there all night, for the Diligences do not travel so
fast as in England. We left it at four the next morning, Hussey, as
usual smarting, and I very little refreshed by sleep, as owing to a
Compound of Ducks and Chickens who kept up a constant chorus within five
yards of my bed, a sad noise in the kitchen from which I was barely
separated, Dogs barking, Waggon Bells ringing, &c., I could scarcely
close my eyes.
At Dijon, beautiful Dijon, we arrived on the Evening of the 10th. Had I
known it had been so sweet a Town I should have stayed longer, but we
had taken our places to Châlons and were obliged to pass on. You, I
believe, staid some time there, but, alas! how different now! The Army
of rescue was encamped for some time in its neighbourhood, and the many
respectable families who lived in or near it rendered it a sad prey to
the hand of Robespierre. Its Churches and Convents are in a deplorable
state, even as those of this still more unfortunate Town. The best
Houses are shut up, and its finest Buildings are occupied by the
Military. We left on the morning of the 11th, travelled safely (except a
slight breakdown at our journey's end) to Châlons sur Saône, and on the
11th went by the water-diligence to Macon, where we stopped to sleep. We
arrived at dusk, and as we were in a dark staircase exploring our way
and speaking English, we heard a voice say, "This way, Sir; here is the
supper." We were quite rejoiced to hear an English voice, particularly
in such a place.
We soon met the speaker, and passed a most pleasant Hour with him. He
proved to be a Passenger like ourselves in the Diligence from Lyons
which met ours here at the Common resting-place. He was a Surgeon of the
Staff, returning from Egypt, by name Shute. We all three talked
together, and as loud as we could; the Company, I believe, thought us
strange Beings. We told him what we could of England in a short time, he
of the South, and we exchanged every Species of information, and were
sorry when it was necessary to part.
[Illustration: THE GUILLOTINE AT CHALON-SUR-SAÔNE.
_To face p. 43._]
We arrived at Lyons on the 14th, the Day of the Grand Fête. We saw the
Town Hall illuminated, and a Review on the melancholy Plains of
Buttereaux, the common Tomb of so many Lyonnese. Here we have remained
since, but shall probably be at Geneva on the 23rd. I lodge at the Hotel
de Parc looking into the Place de Ferreant.
The Landlady, to my great surprise, spoke to me in English very
fluently. She is also a very excellent Spaniard. She has seen better
days, her husband having been a Merchant, but the Revolution destroyed
him. She was Prisoner for some time at Liverpool, taken by a Privateer
belonging to Tarleton and Rigge, who, I am sorry to say, did not behave
quite so handsomely as they should, the private property not having been
restored.
Of all the Towns I have seen this has suffered most. All the Châteaux
and Villas in its most beautiful Environs are shut up. The fine Square
of St. Louis le Grand, then Belle Cour, now Place Buonaparte, is knocked
to pieces; the fine Statue is broken and removed, and nothing left that
could remind you of what it was.
I have been witness to a scene which, of course, my curiosity as a
Traveller would not let me pass over, but which I hope not to see
again--an Execution on the Guillotine. Charles saw a man suffer at
Châlons; we did not know till it was over, but the Machine was still
standing, and the marks of the Execution very recent. On looking out of
my window the morning after our arrival here, I saw the dreadful
Instrument in the Place de Ferreant, and on inquiry found that five men
were to be beheaded in the morning and two in the evening. They deserved
their fate; they had robbed some Farmhouses and committed some
cruelties. In England, however, they would probably have escaped, as the
evidence was chiefly presumptive. They were brought to the Scaffold from
the Prison, tied each with his arms behind him and again to each other;
they were attended by a Priest, not, however, in black, and a party of
soldiers. The time of execution of the whole five did not exceed five
minutes. Of all situations in the world, I can conceive of none half so
terrible as that of the last Prisoner. He saw his companions ascend one
after another, heard each fatal blow, and saw each Body thrown aside to
make room for him. I shall never forget his countenance when he
stretched out his neck on the fatal board. He shut his eyes on looking
down where the heads of his companions had fallen, and instantly his
face turned from ghastly paleness to a deep red, and the wire was
touched and he was no more. Of all Deaths it is far the most easy; not a
convulsive struggle could be perceived after the blow. The sight is
horrid in the extreme, though not awful, as no ceremony is used to make
it so. Those who have daily seen 200 suffer without the least ceremony
or trial get hardened to the sight.
The mode of Execution in England is not so speedy certainly nor so
horrid, but it is conducted with a degree of Solemnity that must impress
the mind most forcibly. I did not see the two who suffered in the
evening, the morning's business was quite enough to satisfy my
curiosity.
The next Morning I saw a punishment a degree less shocking, though I
think the Prisoner's fate was little better than those of the day
before. He was seated on a Scaffold in the same place for Public View,
there to remain for six hours and then to be imprisoned in irons for 18
years, a Term (as he is 41) I think he will not survive.
What with the immediate effects of the Siege and events that followed,
the Town has suffered so much in its Buildings and inhabitants, that I
think it will never recover. The Manufactories of silk are just
beginning to shoot up by slow degrees. Formerly they afforded employment
to 40,000 men, now not above half that number can be found, and they
cannot earn so much. Were I a Lyonese I should wish to plant the plains
of Buttereaux with cypress-trees and close them in with rails. The Place
had been a scene of too much horror to remain open for Public amusement.
The fine Hôpital de la Charité, against which the besiegers directed
their heaviest cannon in spite of the Black ensign, which it is
customary to hoist over buildings of that nature during a Siege, is much
damaged, though scarcely so much as I should have expected. The Romantic
Castle of the Pierre Suisse is no longer to be found, it was destroyed
early in the troubles together with most of the Roman Antiquities round
Lyons. I yesterday dined with two more Englishmen at the Table d'hôte;
they were from the South; one, from his conversation a Navy officer, had
been absent seven years, and had been in the Garrison of Porte Ferrajo
in the Isle of Elba, the other an Egyptian Hero. There is also a Colonel
from the same place whose name I know not.
I heard it was an easy thing to be introduced to the Pope,[5] if letters
are to be had for our Minister, whose name is Fagan, or something like
it. Now, as I may if I can get an opportunity when at Geneva to pay a
visit to Rome and Florence previous to passing the Pyrenees, I should
like a letter to this Mr. Fagan, if one can be got. As Buonaparte's Pope
is not, I believe, so particular as the Hero himself with regard to
introductions, I may perhaps be presented to him. I look forward with
inexpressible pleasure to my arrival at Geneva, to find myself amongst
old friends and to meet with, I hope, an immense collection of letters.
The Vineyards promise to be very abundant; of course we tasted some of
the best when in Burgundy and Champagne. What a country that is! The
corn to the East of Paris is not so promising as that in Normandy. The
frosts which we felt in May have extended even more to the South than to
this Town. The apple-trees of Normandy have suffered most, and the vines
in the Northern parts of France have also been damaged.... I shall go
from Geneva to Genoa, and there hold a council of war.
GENEVA.
...Between Lyons and Geneva we supped with the Passengers of a
Vetturino. Two of these were Officers in the French Service, one of them
a Swiss, the other a Frenchman. The conversation soon fell upon
Politics, in which I did not choose to join, but was sufficiently
entertained in hearing the Discourse. Both agreed in abominating the
present state of Affairs. The Swiss hated the Consul, because he
destroyed his Country, the other because he was too like a King. Both
were Philosophers, and each declared himself to be a Moralist. The
Frenchman was by far the most vehement of the two, and the Swiss seemed
to take much pleasure in leading him on. His philosophy seemed to be
drawn from a source equally pure with his Morality; assuming for his
Motto his first and favourite Maxim, "que tous les hommes sont égaux par
les lois de la Nature," &c., he thought himself justified in wishing
Buonaparte (I was going to say) at the Devil (but I soon found out that
the existence of that Gentleman was a matter of great doubt with the
Philosopher) for daring to call himself the Head of the French Republic.
His hatred of Power was only equalled by his aversion to the English,
whom he seemed to abhor from the bottom of his heart, so much so, that
when I attempted to defend the First Consul, he dashed out with a
Torrent of abuse, and ended by saying, "Et enfin c'est lui qui a fait la
paix avec l'Angleterre."
I was for some time in doubt what part of the Revolution he preferred,
but by defending Robespierre, he soon gave me an Idea of his Love of
Liberty, Morality, Equality, and so forth. I was sorry he retired so
soon after Supper, as I never was more entertained in my life in so
short a time as with this little Fellow, as singular in his Figure and
Dress as in his Manner, and he contrived to be always eating as well as
talking.
_Edward Stanley to his brother J, T. Stanley._
_Argonauta_, OFF HYÈRES,
_Sept. 29, 1802._
MY DEAR BROTHER,--Before I left Geneva I firmly intended writing to you,
but as I left it unexpectedly and sooner than I intended I had not time,
but this, and all my adventures till I left it, I hope you have already
heard, as I wrote two letters, one to my Father, the other to my Mother
before I quitted Geneva. You will no doubt be Surprised, and perhaps
envy my present situation. Where do you think I am? Why, truly, writing
on a cot between two 24-pounders in a Spanish 84. You will wonder, I am
sure, at seeing the date of this letter, and perhaps wish to know by
what good fortune I found a berth in a Spanish man-of-war, an Event
which I little expected when I wrote last. I shall begin my story from
Geneva, and you shall hear my adventures to the present moment. We left
Geneva in a Vetturino for Turin, a Journey which took up 8 days longer
than it naturally should have done, but our Coachman was taken ill, & we
were on his account obliged to travel slowly. But I was not impatient,
as you will know the Scenery is beautiful; we crossed Mount Cenis,
which, after St. Bernard's, cannot be called a difficult pass. At Turin
we stayed 3 days. It is now a melancholy Town, without commerce, &
decreasing daily in population. The celebrated Jourdan[6] is the ruler
of the place, & with his wife lives in the King's Palace. From Turin we
went to Genoa, passing through Country not equal in Scenery, but
infinitely more interesting than that between Geneva & Turin, every step
almost having been the scene of battle, and every Town the Object of a
siege. But the most interesting spot of all was the plain of Marengo,
near Alessandria. As we travelled in the Diligence I had not so good an
opportunity of viewing it as I should have had in a Vetturino, but we
stopped a short time to see the monument which is raised to commemorate
the victory; it is erected near 2 remarkable spots, one where Desaix[7]
fell, the other the House from which Buonaparte wrote an account of the
event to the Directory.
We passed also thro' Novi, every House in which is marked by Shot; that
unfortunate Town has been three times pillaged during the war. We
arrived at Genoa on the 10th of Septr., in my opinion the most
magnificent Town for its size I ever saw. The Palaces are beyond
conception beautiful, or rather were, for the French Troops are not at
this moment admitted within the Gates; they are quartered in the Suburb
in great numbers. As for the new Government, it is easily seen who is at
the head of it. There is a Doge, to be sure, but his orders come all
from Paris. While we were waiting there expecting a ship to sail to
Barcelona, the _Medusa_, English Frigate, came in, and amongst its
passengers who came with her we found a Cambridge acquaintance, who
advised us to go without delay to Leghorn as the Spanish Squadron was
waiting there for the King of Etruria[8] in order to carry him to
Barcelona. Fortunately the next day an English Brig was going, & in her
we took our passages; we were fortunate enough to receive a large packet
of letters from England a few hours before she sailed, which had she
sailed at the time the Captain intended we should have missed. Will you
let my sisters know that they arrived safe? I am not without hopes of
making some use of the interesting letters to Italy, tho' I am now
steering to the westward. After a good passage of two days we arrived at
Leghorn and found the Spaniards still there. As soon as I landed I
delivered a letter to a Mr. Callyer, a Liverpool Gentleman who is
settled there, & by his means was introduced to the Admiral's first
Lieut., who promised to secure me a berth in some of the ships. In
short, here I am in a very fine ship, tho' a horrid sailer. I have now
given you a short sketch of my tour till arriving at Leghorn; I have
only to say something of Leghorn and the _Argonauta_. The Town has
suffered very much by the war, supported nearly as it was by its
Commerce with England. The inhabitants saw with little pleasure a French
army take possession of the place & drive away the English. They still
have a strong force in the town--upwards of 2,000--and its
fortifications have been dismantled. It is singular enough to see the
French and Tuscan colours flying together on the same staff. When we
entered the port the Tuscan Ensign was becalmed & the French flag was
flying _by itself_. I was much grieved not to be able to visit Florence
when so near it, but as the Squadron was in daily expectation of sailing
I did not venture to be absent for 4 days, which the Journey would have
required. I was therefore obliged to content myself with a view of Pisa,
which I would not have missed on any account. The leaning Tower is a
curiosity in itself sufficient to induce a stranger to make a long
journey to visit it. Here the King of Etruria lived and was hourly
expected to set out for Leghorn. But his health, as it was believed, was
in so precarious a State that it was sometimes reported that he would
not go at all. The Queen, indeed, was in a very critical state, and were
it not that her children, she being an Infanta of Spain, are entitled to
a certain sum of money by no means small, provided they were born in
Spain, it would have been madness in her to have undertaken the voyage;
indeed, I think it highly probable that a young Prince will make his
appearance ere we arrive at Barcelona. After having spent a longer time
than I liked at Leghorn, which has nothing curious to recommend it, at
length it was given out that on the 26th the K. would certainly arrive
from Pisa and embark as soon as possible. Accordingly at 6 o'Clock on
that day all the houses were ornamented in the Italian style by a
display of different coloured Streamers, etc., from the windows, & His
Majesty entered the Town. Had I been a King I should have been not
altogether pleased with my reception. He appeared in the Balcony of the
Grand Duke's Palace, no one cried, "Viva Ludovico I!" He went to the
Theatre the same Evening, which was illuminated on the occasion, &, of
course, much crowded. I do not think our opera could have boasted a
finer display of Diamonds than I saw that Evening in the Ladies' heads,
but, be it remembered, that there are 7,000 Jews in Leghorn, not one of
whom is poor; some are reported to be worth a million. Many of the
Italians are also very rich. Next day we were informed that it was
necessary to repair on board our ship, as the King was to go early on
the 20th. The Naval Scene received an addition on 26th by the arrival of
2 French frigates from Porto Ferrajo. They had carried a fresh garrison
there & landed 500 men of the former one at Leghorn; they marched
immediately, as it was said, to garrison Florence. On the 27th the
Spaniards and French, the only ships of war in the roads, saluted, were
manned and dressed. At Eleven o'Clock of the 27th (after having again
seen the K. at the Opera) in the Launch of the _Argonauta_ we left
Leghorn & went on board, for the first time in my life, to spend I hope
many days in so large a ship. She was one of that unfortunate Squadron
which came forth from Cadiz to convey home Adl. Linois[9] & his prize
the _Hannibal_, after our unsuccessful attack in Algeciras bay. This
Ship suffered little; she was then a better sailer than she is now, or
most probably she would not be at present in the Service of Spain. Early
on the morning of the 28th the Marines were on the deck. It blew fresh
from the shore, & it was doubted whether the K. would venture; at 8
o'Clock, however, the Royal barge was seen coming out of the Mole. The
Admiral's Ship, _La Reyna Louisa_, gave the signal & at the instant
Every Ship fired 3 royal salutes. The Effect was very beautiful; we were
the nearest to the Admiral, nearer the land were the 2 other Spanish
frigates, & abreast of us the two French Ships. They were all dressed,
and as the King passed near them they were manned and three cheers were
given. The King's boat came first, then the Queen's. After them followed
the Consuls of the different Nations who were at Leghorn, & after them a
boat from each of the Ships. There were besides a great number of other
boats & Ships sailing about. Soon after the King had arrived on board
the _Reyna Louisa_, of 120 guns, the Signal was made for preparing to
Sail, & soon after the Signal for Sailing. We all got under weigh, but
as our Ship was a bad sailer we had the mortification of seeing
ourselves left far behind in a short time. We have had nothing but light
winds ever since, & for the last two days contrary, but I am not in the
smallest degree impatient to get to Barcelona. The Novelty of Scene,
more especially as it is a naval one, pleases me more than anything I
have met with hitherto. We are, however, now (Oct. 3rd) looking out for
land. Cape Sebastian will be the point we shall first see in Spain, & I
much fear that to-morrow night I shall sleep in Barcelona. Of the
Discipline of the Spanish Navy I cannot say much, nor can I praise their
cleanliness. I wish much to see a storm. How they manage then I do not
know, for when it blows hard the sailors will not go aloft; as for the
officers or Midshipmen, they never think of it. Indeed, the latter live
exactly as well as the officers; they mess with them, have as good
berths, & are as familiar with them as they are with each other; very
different in every respect from the discipline in English Men of War. I
shall write another letter to my sisters by this post; as they are at
Highlake you may exchange letters. Soon I shall write to you again. I
have to thank you for a very long letter which I received at Geneva,
chiefly relating to the proper judgement of paintings. I am not yet
quite a convert, but experience may improve me. In Spain I understand I
shall see some very good ones by the first masters. I fear much that my
desire of visiting Spain will not be so keen as it was when I have seen
a very little of it. By all accounts, even from Spaniards themselves,
travelling is very inconvenient, & what is infinitely worse, very
expensive; added to which the intolerable Suspicion & care of the
Government renders any stay there very unpleasant. In case I find myself
not at my ease there I shall, when at Gibraltar, take a passage back to
Italy, for Rome & Naples must be seen. Now I think of it I must mention
one ship well known to you which I saw at Leghorn, namely, the _John of
Leith_. I accidentally saw her boat with the name written; you may be
sure I looked at her with no small pleasure.[10] When I sought for her
next day she was gone. I little thought when I last saw you to see a
ship in which you had spent so much time, up the Mediterranean. I am
learning Spanish at present, & the progress I have made in it is not the
least pleasure I have received during my stay in the _Argonauta_. It is
a language extremely difficult to understand when spoken, but easy to
read, & very fine. I can already understand an easy book. If I can add
Spanish & Italian, or some knowledge of those languages, to my stock, I
shall consider my time and money as well spent, independent of the
Countries I shall have seen. Before I close this letter, which you will
receive long after its original date, I must tell you I have been making
a most interesting visit to the celebrated Lady of Mont Serrat,[11] &
was even permitted to kiss her hand, an honour which few, unless well
recommended, enjoy. I have not time to say so much of it as I could, I
can only assure you that it fully answered the expectations I had
raised. The singular Scenery and the more singular Customs of its
solitary inhabitants, excepting the monks of the convent, who lead a
most merry, sociable life, are well worth the trouble of going some
distance to visit. The formation of the mountain is also very
extraordinary. Entirely pudding stone, chiefly calcarious, some small
parts of quartz, red granite, & flint only to be found. I have preserved
some pieces for your museum, which I hope will arrive safe in England,
as also the small collection of stones which I sent from the Alps.
Yours sincerely,
EDWD. STANLEY.
MALAGA, _Jan., 1803_.
MY DEAR FATHER,--To this place am I once more returned, after having
made an excursion to the far-famed city of Granada and still more
renowned palace of the Alhambra. My last letter was dated from Gibraltar
on the 17th of Decr. We left the Rock in a Vile Tartan,[12] rendered
still less agreeable by belonging to Spaniards, who, at no time
remarkable for cleanliness, were not likely to exert themselves in that
point in a small trading Vessel. We were crowded with Passengers and
empty Casks--both Equally in the Way; tho' the latter were not then
noisy nor Sick, I considered them as the least nuisance. Fortunately a
strong W. Breeze soon carried us from the Rock, and in one night we
found ourselves close to the Mole of Malaga. We introduced ourselves on
landing to the English Consul Laird, to whose attentions we have been
since much indebted. On the 2nd day after our arrival we heard of a
Muleteer who was on his return to Granada, and with whom we agreed for 3
Mules. The distance is 18 leagues over the Mountains, a Journey of 3
days; this is a Country wild as the Highlands of Scotland, and in parts,
if possible, more barren. The first night we slept at Vetey Malaga and
the 2nd at Alhama, a Town famous for its hot baths, which, thanks to the
Moors--who built walls about them--the Spaniards still enjoy. The
accommodations in the Country are rather inferior to those of England,
tho' perhaps you may consider me so prejudiced in favour of my own, and
therefore unjust in my accounts of other Countries. This may be the
Case, and I dare say a Muleteer would find infinite fault with an
English Inn, where accommodation may be found for the Rider as well as
the Mule. On entering one of these Ventas, or Inns, you find yourself in
the Midst of Jack Asses and Mules, the necks of which, being usually
adorned with bells, produce a Music highly entertaining to a traveller
after a long day's Journey over these delightful roads. If you can force
your way through this Crowd of Musical Quadrupeds it is necessary that
you should attempt to find out the Landlord and petition for a room,
which in general may be had, and if you are fortunate, Mattrasses are
laid on the floor. Eating, however, is always out of the question. It is
absolutely necessary to carry your own Stock and look for your self if
a frying Pan can be found. If you are very much tired and the Bugs,
Mosquitos, Fleas, and other insects (sent into the World, I believe, to
torment Mankind) are also tired or satiated with sucking the Blood from
the Travellers the preceding night, you may chance to sleep till 3
o'clock in the Morning, when the Carriers begin to load their beasts and
prepare for the day's Journey. The pleasure of travelling is also
considerably diminished by the numbers of Crosses by the road side,
which, being all stuck up wherever a murder has been committed, are very
unpleasant hints, and you are constantly put in mind of your latter End
by these confounded Monuments of Mortality. Fortunately, we met with no
Tromboners on the road, and hitherto we have saved the Country the
Expence of Erecting 3 Crosses on our account. At last we arrived at
Granada, the 3rd Town in Spain in Extent, being surpassed only by
Seville and Toledo. You will, I suppose, expect a long account of the
Alhambra and Romantic Gardens of the Generalife, a minute account of the
curiosities in the City and a long string of etceteras relative to the
place. You must, however, remain in ignorance of all these things till
we meet, as at present I have neither time or inclination or paper
sufficient to repeat my adventures and observations: suffice it to say
that on the whole I was much disappointed both with the Alhambra and
Granada, which are I cannot say lasting Monuments, for they are falling
fast to ruin. Of the Indolence and negligence of the people, you will
scarcely believe that so large a Town so near the sea, and situated in
one of the finest vales in Spain, is almost without Trade of any
Sort--neither troubling itself with importations or exerting its powers
to provide Materials for Exportation. The Capt. Genl., however, is doing
all he can to restore it to its former dignity, and were he well
seconded, Granada might again hope to become one of the brightest
ornaments of Spain. We returned by way of Loja and Antiquiera on the
27th of Decr., and have been wind bound ever since, and likely to be for
another Month--sure never was a wind so obstinate as the present. We
have here, I believe, quite formed a party to visit another quarter of
the Globe--a short trip to Africa is at present in agitation. A Capt.
Riddel from Gibraltar is one of the promoters, and if we can get to
Gibraltar in any decent time you may possibly in my next letter hear
some account of the Good Mahometans at Tangiers. We are but to make a
short Stay and carry our Guns and dogs, as we are told the Country is
overrun with game of every sort. I have been most agreeably surprised in
finding Malaga a very pleasant place: we have met with more attention
and seen more Company here than we ever did in Barcelona. I am this
Evening going to a Ball; unfortunately Fandangos are not fashionable
dances, but they have another called the Bolero, which in grace and
Elegance stands unrivalled, but would scarcely be admitted in the less
licentious circles of our N. Climate. I shall take lessons at Cadiz, and
hope to become an adept in all those dances before I see you. If you
write within a fortnight--and of course you will after receiving
this--you may still direct to Cadiz. There has been a disturbance at
Gibraltar, which was hatching when we were there, and during our absence
has Broken out. The many strange reports and particulars which have
reached Malaga--as I cannot vouch for their truth, I shall not Mention;
the Grand point, however, was to put his Royal H. on board of a Ship and
send him back to England. There has been also a desperate gale of Wind
in the Straights--3 Portuguese Frigates, one with the loss of her
rudder, were blown in here. Some Vessels, I understand, were also lost
at the Rock. I hope our little brig, _ye Corporation_, with the young
pointers has arrived in the Thames in spite of the constant Gales and
contrary Winds which we met with. I was sorry when the Wind became fair
and the Rock appeared ahead. My taste for salt Water is not at all
diminished by Experience. It is no doubt a strange one, but there is no
accounting for these things, you know. Malaga is warm enough--we have
Green Peas and Asparagus every day. But we experienced very severe
Weather at Granada--Frost and Snow. The baths of the Alhambra were even
covered with Ice an Inch Thick. Adieu! this is Post Day.
Loves to all,
Yours Sincerely,
E. S.
GIBRALTAR, _Jan. 22, 1803_.
MY DEAR BROTHER,--I promised in my last, which I wrote when I was on the
point of Setting out on a tour to Granada, to write again and give some
account of myself immediately on my return, which was delayed on account
of Sundry unfortunate Circumstances till the day before yesterday. From
Malaga I wrote to my Father, and you probably have heard that a fair
wind carried us in a vile vessel from this place to Malaga in one night,
from whence, staying as Short a time as possible, I set out on mules to
Granada, distant a journey of three days. Till this time I had never,
excepting from hearsay, formed a true idea of the perfection to which
travelling in Spain could be carried, and yet, bad as it was, my return
to land from Gibraltar has shown that things might be a degree worse. Of
the roads I can only say that most probably the Spaniards are indebted
to the Moors for first marking them out, and that the present race
follow the steps of their Ancestors, without troubling themselves with
repairs or alterations of any description. You may well then imagine the
delicate State in which they now are. The Ventas or Inns are in a State
admirably corresponding to that of the high-roads. Provisions of every
sort must necessarily be carried unless the traveller wishes to fast;
beds are occasionally, and indeed I may say pretty generally, to be met
with, such as they are; of course, bugs, fleas, Mosquitos, and so forth
must not be considered: they are plentifully diffused over the Country,
and are by no means confined to the inferior houses. With a Substitution
for "Pallida Mors" the quotation from Horace may with truth be applied,
"aequo pulsant pede pauperum tabernae, Regum turres." We passed thro'
Alhama, near which are some very fine hot baths; the exact heat I could
not ascertain (as my thermometer was actually jolted to pieces tho' in
its case in my pocket, travelling from Turin to Genoa), but it is so
great that I could scarcely keep my hand immersed for a minute. In
another Country they would be much frequented; as it is there are only
some miserable rooms for those who repair to them from necessity. On the
evening of the 21st of December we arrived at our Journey's end, and
found, what we did not expect, a very tolerable Inn, though as Granada
is considered the third Town in Spain, those who are unacquainted with
the country might expect a better. I have so much to say that I cannot
enter into a minute account of the famous Palace of the Alhambra and
other Curiosities in the Town, which is most beautifully situated at the
foot of a range of snow-covered Mountains at the extremity of what is
said to be the most luxuriant and delightful valley in Spain. I hope for
the credit of the Inhabitants that it is not so, as certainly it is in a
disgraceful state of Cultivation, and were it not for the Acqueducts
erected by the Moors for the convenience of watering the land would, I
fear, in a few years be burnt up by the intense heat of summer. Its
chief produce is Corn and oil; silk and Wine are also cultivated, but
the cold of winter sometimes injures the two latter. The place is badly
peopled and has no trade; it is chiefly supported by being the chief
criminal port of Spain, and the richest people are consequently the
Lawyers. We saw the baths of Alhambra in a state very different from
what they usually are--actually frozen over and the Ice nearly an Inch
thick. I must say I was greatly disappointed with these famed remains of
Moorish Magnificence, tho' certainly when everything was kept in order,
the fountains all playing, it must have been very different; at present
it is falling fast to ruin. The Governor is a man appointed by the
Prince of Peace,[13] and I believe would be unwilling to bestow any
attention on anything in the world but his own person, of which by all
accounts he takes special care. We returned to Malaga through Loja and
Antequerra, both Moorish towns. At Malaga we were detained by Contrary
winds for three weeks; we might, indeed, have passed our time less
advantageously at other places, as we experienced much unexpected
Civility & saw a great deal of Spanish Society. Wearied at length with
waiting for Winds, we determined to set out on our return to the Rock by
land, and accordingly hired 4 horses, and, under the most favourable
auspices, left Malaga. We soon found that even a Spanish sky could not
be trusted; it began before we had completed half our first day's
journey to pour with rain. To return was impossible, as we had forded
the first river. In short, for three days we suffered Every
Inconvenience which can be conceived, but were still to meet with
another disappointment, for on the Morning of the day in which we had
certainly calculated to arrive at Gibraltar we came to a River which was
so much swelled that the Boatman could not ferry us over. Nearly a
hundred Muleteers and others were in the same predicament, and we had
the satisfaction of passing two most miserable days in a horrid Cortigo,
a house of _accommodation_ a degree lower than a Venta. Our provisions
were exhausted, and nothing but bread and water were to be met with.
Beds, of course, or a room of any sort were unobtainable. Conceive to
yourself a kitchen filled with smoke, without windows, in which were
huddled together about forty of the lowest order of Spaniards. As it
poured with rain we could not stir out, and as for staying within doors
it was scarcely possible. If we tried to sleep we were instantly covered
with fleas and other insects equally partial to a residence on the human
body. After two days' penance, as the waters began to abate, we
determined to cross the river in a small boat and proceed on foot, which
we did, and though we had to skip thro' 2 or 3 horrible streams and wade
thro' Mud and Marshes we performed the journey lightly, as anything was
bearable after the Cortigo del rio Zuariano. We passed through St. Roque
and the Spanish lines and arrived at Gibraltar on 20th, out of patience
with the Spaniards and everything belonging to Spain. Indeed, the
Country is a disgrace to Europe. I wish indolence was the only vice of
the inhabitants, but added to laziness they are in general mean in their
ideas, the women licentious in their manners, and both sexes sanguinary
to a degree scarcely credible. In Malaga particularly, few nights pass
without some murders. Those who have any regard for their safety must
after dark carry a sword and a lantern. You may form some idea of the
people when there was one fellow at Granada who had with his own hand
committed no less than 22 Murders. Nothing could be more gratifying to
an Englishman than finding wherever he goes the manufactures of his own
Country. This in Spain is particularly the case; there is scarcely a
single article of any description which this people can make for
themselves, consequently English goods are sure of meeting with a quick
sale. Perhaps it may be from prejudice, but certainly the idea I had of
England before I left it has been raised many degrees since I have had
an opportunity of comparing it with other countries. But now for some
news respecting Gibraltar itself, which has during my absence been a
scene of Confusion, first by a dreadful gale of wind, and secondly from
a much more serious cause, a spirit of Mutiny in the Garrison. By the
former 16 or 18 vessels were either lost or driven on shore; by the
latter some lives were sacrificed before tranquillity was restored, and
3 men have since suffered death by the Verdict of a Court Martial. No
doubt you will see something of it in the papers; I cannot now enter
into a detail as it would take some time. The 2 Regts. principally, and
I believe I may say only, concerned were the Royals, which is the
Duke's[14] own Regt., and the 25th; fortunately they did not act in
concert. The other Regts. of the Garrison, the 2nd, 8th, 23rd, and 54th,
particularly the latter, behaved well. The design was to seize the Duke
and put him on board a ship and send him to England. He is disliked on
account of his great severity: whether he carries discipline to an
unnecessary degree military men know better than myself. Despatches have
been sent to England, and I believe some of the men concerned; the
greatest anxiety prevails to know what answers or orders will be
returned. Of War and the rumours of War, tho' we it seems are nearer the
scene of action than those who dwell at home, little is known, and what
little is seems to be more inclined to peace than the English papers
allow. It is here said, on what grounds I know not, that the Spaniards
have entirely ceded Minorca to their good neighbours the French. We have
but a small Naval force in the bay; and a few frigates and ships of
war, one of the latter the _Bittern_, I believe, arrived yesterday from
England, but without any particular news. Many gun boats were fitting
out at Malaga, but I was informed they were only meant for "Guarda
Costas," which may or not be the truth. We sailed for Cadiz the moment
an E. wind would give us leave; it has now blown almost constantly a W.
wind for three months, and the season has been remarkably wet. I am
impatient to get to Cadiz as I expect certainly to find letters, the
receipt of which from home is, I think, the greatest pleasure a
traveller can experience. Of Louisa's[15] marriage I have as yet not
heard, tho' no doubt, however, it has taken place. How are my Nephews
and Nieces? I do indeed look forward with pleasure to my next visit to
Alderley. Remember it is now nearly 2 years since I have seen you; how
many things have happened in the time to yours most sincerely
EDWD. STANLEY.
_Edward Stanley to his brother J. T. Stanley._
GIBRALTAR, _January 16, 1803_.
MY DEAR BROTHER,-- ... I shall pass over the greater part of the rest of
your long letter & proceed without further delay to talk of myself. The
last time you heard from me I think was soon after I arrived in
Barcelona; what occurred during my stay there you have most probably
heard from my sisters, as I wrote to Highlake just before I left that
place. I consider myself as extremely fortunate in being at Barcelona
during a time when I had a better opportunity of seeing the Court of
Spain and the different amusements of the Country than I could have
witnessed by a much longer residence even in Madrid itself. I was,
however, unfortunately only a Spectator; as no regular English Consul
had arrived in Barcelona, I had no opportunity of being introduced
either at Court or in the first Circles. Another difficulty also was in
my way; unfortunately I was not in the Army & consequently had no
uniform, without which or a Court dress no person is considered as a
Gentleman in this Country. I have repeatedly regretted that before I
left England I did not put my name down on some Military list, & under
cover of a red Coat procure an undisputed right to the title of
Gentleman in Spain.
As for the people, both noble and vulgar, it requires but a very short
residence amongst them to be highly disgusted; few receive any thing
which deserves the name of a regular Education, & I have been told from,
I believe, undoubted Authority, that a nobleman unable to write his
name, or even read his own pedigree, is by no means a difficult thing to
meet with. The Government is in such a State that ere long it must fall,
I should think. The King is entirely under the power of the Prince of
Peace,[16] a man who from being a common Corps de Garde has risen by
degrees, & being naturally ambitious & extremely avaricious has gained a
rank inferior only to that of the King, & a fortune which makes him not
only the richest man in Spain but probably in Europe. He is disliked by
every Class of people, & it is not, I believe, without good ground that
he is considered as little better than a tool of Buonaparte's.
The conduct of France to Spain in many particulars, which are too
numerous now to mention, shews in what a degraded state the latter
is--how totally unable to act or even think for herself. One instance I
need only mention, tho' I do not vouch for the truth of it, further than
as being a report current in the Garrison. The French have _kindly_
offered to send 4,000 troops to Minorca in order to _take care_ of it
for yr good friends the Spaniards, and a Squadron is fitting out at
Toulon to carry them there. After your alarming account of the naval
preparations in the three kingdoms you will expect that I, who am here
in the centre of everything, should be able to tell you a great deal;
you will, therefore, be surprised when you are informed that yours is
almost the only account of another war which I have heard of. A Strong
Squadron, indeed, of 6 line of Battle Ships some time ago sailed with
sealed orders and went aloft, but where is unknown. From Barcelona, as
it was utterly impossible to get to Madrid on account of the King
having put an Embargo on every Conveyance, which is easily done as the
Conveyances are bad as the roads and difficult to meet with, as well as
enormously dear, we determined to steer for Gibraltar by Sea, and
accordingly took passage on an English brig, which was to stop on the
Coast for fruit we took on board. The Voyage was uncommonly long, and we
met with every Species of weather, during which I had the pleasure of
witnessing a very interesting Collection of Storms, with all the
concomitant circumstances such as Splitting Sails and Shipping Seas, one
of which did us considerable mischief, staving in all the starboard
quarter boards, filling and very nearly carrying away the long-boat,
drowning our live Stock, and, of course, ducking us all on deck most
thoroughly. We stayed a week at Denia, a small but beautiful Town on the
south part of the K. of Valencia. We were fortunately put on shore here
in the night of December 6th. I say fortunately, as in consequence of a
very strong Levanter the Captn. was for some hours in doubt whether he
should not be under the necessity of running through the straits and
carrying us to England, which was very near happening. Italy I have
quite given up for the present. Rome and Naples I lament not to have
seen, but you know that from Leghorn I turned to the westward in
Compliance with Hussey's wish, who was anxious to be near Lisbon. We
have some idea of going from this place thro' Malaga to Granada, and
soon after we return proceed to Cadiz, and after making some excursions
from thence go on to Lisbon. Your letter which you promised to send to
Madrid will, I fear, never reach me, tho' I have still hopes of paying
that Capital a visit. At Lisbon I shall arrive, I should think, about
March, and hope to be in England about May, or perhaps sooner. At Lisbon
I hope to find a letter from you; the direction is Jos. Lyne & Co. I
have been very unfortunate in not finding some friends in the Garrison,
the only officer to whom I had a letter whom I found here has been of
little Service to us. I have, however, made the best use of my time and
have been over the greatest part of this extraordinary Fortress, but
shall leave the description of it, as well as of an infinity of other
things, till we meet, which shall be very soon after my arrival in
England. I must send this instantly or wait for the next Post day, so I
shall conclude rather hastily. My best Love to Mrs. S. and Believe me,
Yours sincerely,
EDWD. STANLEY.
[Illustration: Lord Sheffield
Walker & Boutall, ph. sc.]
CHAPTER II
AFTER NAPOLEON'S FALL
News of the Emperor's fall--Foreign plans--Disquieting
rumours--Madame de Staël--London in an uproar--Emperors and
Kings--Hero-worship at close quarters.
1814.
The sudden rupture of the Peace of Amiens in May, 1803, closed France to
Englishmen, except to the miserable eight or nine thousand who were in
the country at the time, and were forcibly detained there by orders of
the First Consul. It was not until eleven years later, in April, 1814,
when Napoleon had abdicated, and when the allies had triumphantly
entered Paris and restored Louis XVIII. to the throne of his fathers,
that peaceful British travellers could cross the frontier once more.
The busy parish life which had occupied Edward Stanley during the years
which had elapsed since his first visit to France had not made him less
keen for travel than he had been in his college days, and all his ardour
was aroused by the news that there was to be an end to Napoleon's rule.
The excitement caused by the rumour of the capture of Paris and the
deposition of the Emperor may be guessed at by a letter received at
Alderley from Lord Sheffield, father of Lady Maria Stanley, in the
spring of 1814.
_Letter from Lord Sheffield._
PORTLAND PLACE, _April 6, 1814_.
...I am just come from the Secretary of State's Office. We are all
gasping for further intelligence from Paris, but none has arrived since
Capt. Harris, a very intelligent young man who was despatched in half an
hour after the business was completed, but of course cannot answer half
the questions put to him. He came by Flanders, escorted part of the way
by Cossacks, but was stopped nearly a day on the road. Schwartzenberg
completely out-generalled Buonaparte. An intercepted letter of the
latter gave him notice of an intended operation. He instantly decided on
the measures which brought on the capture of Paris. I suppose you know
that King Joseph sent the Empress and King of Rome previously to
Rambouillet. It is supposed that Buonaparte has fallen back to form a
junction with some other troops. A friend of Marshal Beresford's[17] has
just called here who lately had a letter from the Marshal which says
that he is quite sure that Soult has not 15,000 men left, and that in
sundry engagements and by desertion he has lost about 16,000 men. I
have no letter from Sir Henry[18] or William Clinton[19] since I saw
you, but I learn at the War Office that the latter was, on the 20th of
last month, within ten days' march of the right wing of Lord
Wellington's army.[20]
* * * * *
Further news soon followed, and the authentic accounts of the Emperor's
abdication at Fontainebleau on April 11th, and of his banishment to
Elba, made it certain that his power was broken.
The Rector of Alderley was eager to seize the chance of viewing the
wreck of Napoleon's Empire while the country was still ringing with
rumours of battles and sieges, and he began to make plans to do so
almost as soon as the French ports were open.
His wife was as keen as himself, and it was at first suggested that Sir
John and Lady Maria, as well as Mrs. Edward Stanley, should join the
expedition; but the difficulties of finding accommodation, and the fears
of the disturbed state of the country, made them abandon the idea, to
their great disappointment.
The following extracts from the correspondence of Lady Maria Stanley
explain the reasons for the journey being given up by herself and her
sister-in-law.
They describe the feeling in England on the foreign situation, and also
give a glimpse of the wayward authoress, Madame de Staël, who was just
then on her way back to France after a banishment of ten years.
_Lady Maria Stanley to her sister, Lady Louisa Clinton._
ALDERLEY PARK, _April 30, 1814_.
So the Parisian expedition is at an end for us, in convention, that is,
for I think Edward will brave all difficulties, and with Ed. Leycester,
taking Holland first on his way, make a fight for Paris if possible; but
all who know anything on the subject represent the present difficulties
as so great, and the probable future ones so much greater, that Kitty
(Mrs. Ed. Stanley) has given up all thought of making the attempt this
year.
Lodging at Paris is difficult to be had, and there are even serious
apprehensions of a scarcity of provisions there. Moreover, the wise ones
would not be surprised if things were in a very unsettled and, perhaps,
turbulent state for some months. This is Miss Tunno's information,
confirmed by other accounts she has had from Paris.
Madame Moreau's[21] brother means to return to prepare for her
reception and the mode of travelling, and when all is arranged to come
again to fetch her.
There seems every reason to think another year preferable for a trip,
especially as I have been making the same melancholy reflections as Cat.
Fanshawe,[22] and feared there would not be one clever or agreeable
person left in London a Twelve-month hence; my only comfort is the
expectation that House rent will be very cheap, and that the said Cat.
will be better disposed to take up with second best company for want of
perfection, and that we may have more of her society.
...All you say of the French nobility and their feelings is very true;
but if they return with the sentiment that all the Senate who wish for a
good constitution are "des coquins," which I very much suspect, I shall
consider the emigrants are the greatest "coquins" of the two sets.
Surely, all the very bad Republicans and terrorists are exterminated. I
should like to see a list of the Constituent Assembly, with an account
of what has become of each. I have been reading all the accounts we have
of the Revolution from the beginning. When I begin I am as fierce a
Republican as ever, and think no struggle too much for the purpose of
amending such a government or such laws. By the time I come to /93,
however, one begins to hesitate, but I rejoice most heartily the old
times are not restored, and hope Louis means to be sincere and
consistent with his good beginning.
I return the "Conte de Cely," which is very entertaining and
interesting, as no doubt speaking the sentiments of all the old
nobility. I do not think France has seen the end of her troubles
entirely. It is impossible the Senate and the Emigrants can sit down
quietly together, but the former--the Marshals and the Generals--would
be formidable if they had reason given them to doubt the security of
Louis' acceptation of the Constitution. If the Bourbons share the
sentiments of their nobles, will you not give me leave to think they are
too soon restored?
Miss Tunno is very intimate with Mdme. Moreau and a cousin of hers. All
her accounts have been conformable with yours.
_Lady Louisa Clinton to her sister, Lady Maria Stanley._
To-day I sat an hour with Cat. Fanshawe, and was highly amused by the
account she gave of Mme. de Staël bolting up to her while standing
speaking to Lord Lansdowne and some others at Mrs. Marcet's,[23] and
saying, "I want to be acquainted with you. They say you have written a
minuet. I am not a judge of English poetry, but those who are told me
it is very good. Is it printed?" This intolerable impertinence, which,
however, she probably meant for condescension, so utterly overset Cat.,
that she could find not a word to say, and treated the overture so
coldly that nothing more came of it.
I exhort Cat. to recollect that the woman was so notorious for excessive
ill-breeding, that no particular affront was intended, and hoped she
would not continue coy, as I long to hear something of this Lioness from
one who can judge.
Hitherto I have had no such luck. I hear the most exaggerated statements
of the Baroness's absurdities, or of the necessity of her being one of
every literary party.
_Letter from Miss Catherine Fanshawe, after meeting Lord Byron and Mme
de Staël at Sir Humphry and Lady Davy's._
_Early Spring, 1814._
I have just stayed in London long enough to get a sight of the last
imported lion,[24] Mme de Staël; but it was worth twenty peeps through
ordinary show-boxes, being the longest and most entertaining dinner at
which I ever in my life was present. The party being very small, her
conversation was for the benefit of all who had ears to hear, and even
my imperfect organ lost little of the discourse--happy if memory had
served me with as much fidelity; for, had the whole discourse been
written without one syllable of correction, it would be difficult to
name a dialogue so full of eloquence and wit. Eloquence is a great word,
but not too big for her. She speaks as she writes; and upon this
occasion she was inspired by indignation, finding herself between two
opposite spirits, who gave full play to all her energies. She was
astonished to hear that this pure and perfect constitution was in need
of radical reform; that the only safety for Ireland was to open wide the
doors which had been locked and barred by the glorious revolution; and
that Great Britain, the bulwark of the World, the Rock which alone had
withstood the sweeping flood, the ebbs and flows of Democracy and
Tyranny, was herself feeble, disjointed, and almost on the eve of ruin.
So, at least, it was represented by her antagonist in argument, Childe
Harold, whose sentiments, partly perhaps for the sake of argument, grew
deeper and darker in proportion to her enthusiasm.
The wit was his. He is a mixture of gloom and sarcasm, chastened,
however, by good breeding, and with a vein of original genius that makes
some atonement for the unheroic and uncongenial cast of his whole mind.
It is a mind that never conveys the idea of sunshine. It is a dark night
upon which the lightning flashes. The conversation between these two
and Sir Humphry Davy,[25] at whose house they met, was so animated that
Lady Davy[26] proposed coffee being served in the eating-room; so we did
not separate till eleven. Of course we had assembled rather late. I
should not say "assembled," for the party included no guests except Lord
Byron and myself in addition to the "Staël" quartette....
As foreigners have no idea that any opposition to Government is
compatible with general obedience and loyalty, their astonishment was
unbounded. I, perhaps I only, completely relished all her reasonings,
and I thought her perfectly justified in replying to the pathetic
mournings over departed liberty, "Et vous comptez pour rien la liberté
de dire tout cela, et même devant les domestiques!" She concluded by
heartily wishing us a little taste of real adversity to cure us of our
plethora of political health.
* * * * *
In consequence of the difficulties and dangers anticipated in the above
letters Edward Stanley finally decided to take as his only travelling
companion his young brother-in-law, Edward Leycester, who was just
leaving Cambridge for the Long Vacation.
Mrs. Stanley accompanied her husband and brother as far as London, in
order to see the festivities held in honour of the State visit of the
Allied Sovereigns to England in June, on their way from the Restoration
ceremonies in France.
Her letters to her sister-in-law during this visit describe some of the
actors in the great events of the last few months and the excitement
which pervaded London during their stay.
_Mrs. Edward Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
LONDON, _Friday, June 13, 1814_.
Edward went for his passport the other day, and was told he must go to
the Alien Office, being taken for a Frenchman....
I forgot yesterday to beg Sir John would write Edward an introduction to
Lord Clancarty,[27] and anybody else he can think of at Paris or the
Hague, and send them to him as soon as possible.
We have been Emperor[28] hunting all morning. No, first we went to Mass
with Miss Cholmondeley, and heard such music!
Then with her to the Panorama of Vittoria, and since then we have been
parading St. James's Street and Piccadilly. Oh! London for ever! Edward
saw a whiskered man go into a shop, followed him, and accosted him, and
it was a man just arrived with despatches for the Crown Prince, who was
thankful to be shewn his way. There was a gentleman came up to talk to
Miss Cholmondeley, and he had been living in the house with Lucien
Bonaparte.[29]
[Illustration: _H. Edridge A.R.A. Welt 1811_ _Emory Walker Ph. Sc._
_Kitty Leycester--married Edward Stanley 1810._]
Then Edward was standing in Hatchard's shop, and he saw a strange bonnet
in an open landau, and there was the Duchess of Oldenburg[30] and her
Bonnet, and her brother sitting by her in a plain black coat, and he
gave himself the toothache running after the carriage.
He saw, or fancied he saw, a great deal of character in the Duchess's
countenance. I just missed this, but afterwards joined Edward, and
walked up and down St. James's Street, trusting to Edward's eyes, rather
than all the assurances we met with, that the Emperor was gone to
Carlton House, and were rewarded by a sight of him in a quarter of an
hour, which had sufficed him to change his dress and his equipage, and a
very fine head he has. Such a sense of bustle and animation as there is
in that part of the town! You and Sir John may, and I daresay will,
laugh at all the amazing anxiety and importance attached to a glimpse of
what is but a man after all; but still the common principles of sympathy
would force even Sir John's philosophy to yield to the animating throng
of people and carriages down St. James's Street, and follow their
example all the time he was abusing their folly.
_June 13, 1814._
At half-past ten we started for the illuminations, and nearly made the
tour of the whole town from Park Lane to St. Paul's in the open
barouche.
I cannot conceive a more beautiful scene than the India House; they had
hung a quantity of flags and colours of different sorts across the
street; the flutings and capitals of the pillars, and all the outlines
of the buildings, marked out with lamps, so that it was much more like a
fairy palace and a fairy scene altogether than anything else.
The flags concealed the sky, and formed such a fine background to the
brilliant light thrown on all the groups of figures.
We did not get home till daylight. There was nothing the least good or
entertaining in the way of inscriptions and transparencies, except a
"Hosanna to Jehovah, Britain, and Alexander."
_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
LONDON, _Wednesday, June, 1814_.
Where did we go to be made fools of by the Emperor yesterday for four
hours? We went with Miss Tunno, got introduced to a gentleman's tailor
in Parliament Street, and looked out of his window; saw a shabby coach
and six pass, full of queer heads, one of which was so like the prints
of Alexander, and bowed so like an Emperor, that I must and will
maintain it to have been him till I can receive positive proof that it
was not. We saw, too, what they said was Blücher, but we could hear or
see nothing but that something was wrapped up in furs. However, Edward
was more fortunate, and came in for the real bows which the real Emperor
made from the Pulteney Hotel window, and you and Sir John may laugh as
you please at all the trouble we have taken to see--nothing.
Nevertheless, though I was well disposed to kiss the Emperor and Prince,
and all who contributed to disappoint the public expectation, it is
certainly entertaining and enlivening to be in expectation of meeting
something strange every corner you turn and every different report you
hear. The Emperor has gone out this morning to look about at half-past
nine, long before the Prince Regent called.
They say he will sail in one of his own ships from Leith and may pass
through Manchester. But after all, it is something like what Craufurd
described being in Paris, to be hearing yourself in the midst of a
great bustle with your eyes shut and unable to see what was going on
round you.
We talk of Monday se'enight for our separation. There is so much to be
seen if one could but see it here, that Edward is in no hurry to be
off....
At Lady Cork's the other night Blücher was expected. Loud Huzzas in the
street at length announced him, the crowd gathered round the door, and
in walked Lady Caroline Lamb[31] in a foreign uniform! This I had from
no less authentic and accurate a source than Dr. Holland, who was an
eye-witness. She had been at the party in female attire, and seeing Lady
Cork's anxiety to see the great man, returned home and equipped herself
to take in Lady C. and Co.
_Monday, 8 a.m., June 16th._
Yesterday, after Church, we went to the Park. It was a beautiful day,
and the Emperor may well be astonished at the population, for such a
crowd of people I could not have conceived, and such an animated crowd.
As the white plumes of the Emperor's guard danced among the trees, the
people all ran first to one side and then to the other; it was
impossible to resist the example, and we ran too, backwards and forwards
over the same hundred yards, four times, and were rewarded by seeing the
Ranger of the Forest, Lord Sydney, who preceded the Royal party, get a
good tumble, horse and all. We saw Lord Castlereagh almost pulled off
his horse by congratulations and huzzahs as loud as the Emperor's, and a
most entertaining walk we had.
We dined at Mr. Egerton's. Mr. Morritt[32] rather usurped the
conversation after dinner, but I was glad of him to save me from the
history of each lady's adventures in search of the Emperor or the
illuminations. The Opera must have been a grand sight; it seems
undoubted that the Emperor and Prince Regent, and all in the Royal box,
rose when the Princess of Wales came in and bowed to her--it is supposed
by previous arrangement. Lord Liverpool[33] declared that he would
resign unless something of the sort was done.
One man made forty guineas by opening his box door and allowing those in
the lobbies to take a peep for a guinea apiece. We made an attempt on
Saturday to get into the pit, but it was quite impossible. I would not
for the world but have been here during the fever, although what many
people complain of is very true, that it spoils all conversation and
society, and in another day or two I shall be quite tired of the sound
or sight of Emperors.
The merchants and bankers invited the Emperor to dinner; he said he had
no objection if they would promise him it should not exceed
three-quarters of an hour, on which Sir William Curtis lifted up his
hands and exclaimed, "God bless me!"
He is tired to death with the long sittings he is obliged to undergo.
The stories of him quite bring one back to the "Arabian Nights," and
they could not have chosen a more appropriate ballet for him than "Le
Calife Voleur."
If he stayed long enough, he might revolutionise the hours of London.
I was close to Blücher yesterday, but only saw his back, for I never
thought of looking at a man's face who had only a black coat on.
You may safely rest in your belief that I do not enjoy anything I see or
hear without telling it to you, and you are quite right in your
conjecture as to what your feelings would be here.
I have thought and said a hundred times what a fever of impatience
disappointment, and fatigue you would be in.... You are also right in
supposing that you know as much or more of the Emperor than I do, for
one has not the time nor the inclination to read what one has the chance
of seeing all the day long, and it is so entertaining that I feel it
quite impossible to sit quiet and content when you know what is going
on.
One person meets another: "What are you here for?" "I don't know. What
are you expecting to see?" One says the Emperor is gone this way, and
another that way, and of all the talking couples or trios that pass you
in the street, there are not two where the word "Emperor" or "King" or
"Blücher" is not in one, if not both mouths; and all a foxhound's
sagacity is necessary to scent him successfully, for he slips round by
backways and in plain clothes.
_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
LONDON, _June 17, 1814_.
We were in high luck on Sunday in getting a private interview with the
Cossacks, through some General of M.'s acquaintance. We saw their horses
and the white one, 20 years old, which has carried Platoff[34] through
all his engagements. They are small horses with very thick legs. The
Cossacks themselves would not open the door of their room till luckily a
gentleman who could speak Russian came up, and then we were admitted.
There were four, one who had been thirty years in the service, with a
long beard and answering exactly my idea of a Cossack; the others,
younger men with fine countenances and something graceful and
gentleman-like in their figure and manner. They were very happy to talk,
and there was great intelligence and animation in their eyes. No wonder
they defy the weather with their cloaks made of black sheepskin and
lined with some very thick cloth which makes them quite impenetrable to
cold or wet. Their lances were 11 feet long, and they were dressed in
blue jacket and trousers confined round the waist with a leather belt,
in which was a rest for the lance. I envied their saddles, which have a
sort of pommel behind and before, between which is placed a cushion, on
which they must sit most comfortably. We must see them on horseback to
_have seen_ them, but we shall probably have an opportunity of seeing
them again.
_June 18, 1814._
On returning from Miss Fanshawe's we saw a royal carriage in George
Street at Madame Moreau's, and we waited to see the Emperor and the
Duchess (of Oldenburg) get into the carriage. He was in a plain blue
coat; she without her curious bonnet, so that I had a good view of her
face, which I had the satisfaction of finding exactly what I wished to
see. The extreme simplicity of her dress--she had nothing but a plain
white gown and plain straw hat, with no ornament of any sort--and her
very youthful appearance made me doubt whether it was really the
Duchess; but it was.
She is very little, and there is a strong expression of intelligence,
vivacity, and youthful, unsophisticated animation in her countenance. I
fancied I could see so much of her character in the brisk step with
which she jumped into the carriage, and the unassuming, lively smile
with which she bowed to the people.
The Emperor looks like a gentleman--but a country gentleman, not like an
Emperor. His head is very like R. Heber's. The Duchess allowed herself
to be pleased and to express her pleasure at all the sights without the
least restraint. She asks few questions, but those very pertinent. She
is impatient at being detained long over anything, but anxious to
silence those who would hence infer that she runs over everything
superficially, without gaining or retaining real knowledge.
At Woolwich she was asked if she would see the steam-engines. "No, she
had seen them already, and understood them perfectly." As they passed
the open door she turned her head to look at the machinery, and
instantly exclaimed, "Oh, that is one of Maudesley's engines," her eye
immediately catching the peculiarity of the construction.
LONDON, _June 22, 1814_.
In the middle of Edward's sermon at St. George's to-day somebody in our
pew whispered it round that there was the King of Prussia[35] in the
Gallery. I looked as directed, and fixed my eyes on a melancholy,
pensive, interesting face, exactly answering the descriptions of the
King, and immediately fell into a train of very satisfactory reflection
and conjecture on the expression of his physiognomy, for which twenty
minutes afforded me ample time. The King was the only one I had not
seen, therefore this opportunity of studying his face so completely was
particularly valuable. When the prayer after the sermon was concluded,
my informer said the King was gone, when, to my utter disappointment, I
beheld my Hero still standing in the Gallery, and discovered I had
pitched upon a wrong person, and wasted all my observations on a face
that it did not really signify whether it looked merry or sad, and
entirely missed the sight of the real King, who was in the next pew.
Nothing but his sending to offer Edward a Chaplaincy in Berlin for his
excellent sermon can possibly console me, except, indeed, the _honour by
itself_ of having preached before a King of Prussia, which can never
happen again in his life.
...The Duchess of Oldenburg took all the merchants by surprise the other
day. They had no idea she was coming to their dinner; she was the only
lady, and she was rather a nuisance to them, as they had provided a
hundred musicians, who could not perform, as she cannot bear music.[36]
She was highly amused at the scene and with their "Hip! Hip!"
MONDAY, _June 23, 1814_.
At our dinner Mr. Tennant came in late, with many apologies, but really
he had been hunting the Emperor--waiting for him two hours at one place
and two hours at another, and came away at last without seeing him at
all.
He said, in his dry way, that "Have you seen the Emperor?" has entirely
superseded the use of "How do you do?"
In the morning he had gone into a shop to buy some gloves, and whilst he
was trying them on the shopman suddenly exclaimed, "Blücher! Blücher!"
cleared the counter at a leap, followed by all the apprentices, and Mr.
Tennant remained soberly amongst the gloves to make his own selection,
for he saw nothing more of his dealers.
Rooms are letting to-day in the City at 60 guineas a room, or a guinea a
seat for the procession. Tickets for places to see it from White's to be
had at Hookham's for 80 guineas; 50 have been refused.
Your letter revived me after five hours' walking and standing, and
running after reviews, &c.
I did see the King of Prussia, to be sure, and the Prince, and the
people climbing up the trees like the grubs on the gooseberry bushes,
and heard the _feu de joie_, whose crescendo and diminuendo was very
fine indeed, but altogether it was not worth the trouble of being tired
and squeezed for.
At the reception at Sir Joseph Banks's house last night the most
interesting object of the evening was a sword come down from heaven on
purpose for the Emperor! Let the Prince Regent and his garters and his
orders, and the merchants and the aldermen and everybody hide their
diminished heads! What are they and their gifts to the Philosophers'?
This is literally a sword made by Sowerby from the iron from some
meteoric stones lately fallen--of course in honour of the Emperor. There
is an inscription on it something to this effect, but not so neat as
the subject demanded, and it is to be presented to Alexander--who does
not deserve it, by the by, for having entirely neglected Sir Joseph
amongst all the great sights and great men, which has rather mortified
the poor old man.
LONDON, _Monday night_.
They are off, and in spite of all my friends' predictions to the
contrary, I am here.
Edward went this morning to Portsmouth on his way to Havre, but the
Havre packet is employed in pleasuring people up and down to see the
ships. Not a bed is to be had in the place, so he has secured his berth
in the packet, if he can find her, and get on board at night after her
morning's excursions.
Standing room is to be had in the streets for three shillings; seats are
putting up in and for two miles out of the town; all the laurels cut
down to stick upon poles; in short, everybody is madder there than in
London.
Can the English ever be called cool and phlegmatic again? It is really a
pity some metaphysicianising philosopher is not here to observe,
describe, and theorise on the extraordinary symptoms and effects of
enthusiasm, curiosity, insanity--I am sure I do not know what to call
it--en masse.
One should have supposed that the great objects would have swallowed up
the little ones. No such thing! they have only made the appetite for
them more ravenous.
The mob got hold of Lord Hill[37] in the Park at the review, and did
literally pull his coat and his belt to pieces. He snatched off his
Order of the Bath, and gave it to Major Churchill, who put it in the
holster of his saddle, where he preserved it from the mob only by
drawing his sword and declaring he would cut any man's hand off who
touched it. Some kissed his sword, his boots, his spurs, or anything
they could touch; they pulled hair out of his horse's tail, and one
butcher's boy who arrived at the happiness of shaking his hand, they
chaired, exclaiming, "This is the man who has shaken hands with Lord
Hill!" At last they tore his sword off by breaking the belt and then
handed it round from one to another to be kissed.
My regret at not having been at White's is stronger than my desire to go
was; it must have been the most splendid and interesting sight one could
ever hope to see.
* * * * *
On Friday, June 27th, Edward Stanley and Edward Leycester finally set
off and sailed from Portsmouth, all gay with festivities in honour of
the Allied Sovereigns.
Mrs. Stanley was left to spend the time of their absence at her father's
house in Cheshire, but the keen interest with which she would have
shared the journey was not forgotten by her husband.
The events of the tour were minutely chronicled in his letters to her,
and not only in letters, but in sketch books, filled to overflowing with
every strange group and figure which met the travellers on their way,
through countries which had been, although so near, prohibited for such
a long time that they had almost the interest of unknown lands.
_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._
STOKE, _July 4, 1814_.
...That my curiosity may not catch cold in the too sudden transition
from exercise to inaction, the Shropshire and Cheshire Heroes have
followed me down here, and I have had the pleasure of seeing and hearing
of the crowds going to touch (for that is the present fashion of seeing,
or, to speak philosophically, _mode_ of _perception_) Lord Hill; and
yesterday I met Lord Combermere and his Bride at Alderley, and a worthy
Hero he is for Cheshire!
A folio from Havre just arrived. I am very noble, very virtuous, and
very disinterested--pray assure me so, for nothing else can console
me--it is too entertaining to send one extract.
CHAPTER III
UNDER THE BOURBON FLAG
French prisoners--Oldenburg bonnets--"Fugio ut Fulgor"--Soldiers of
the Empire--Paris--A French hotel--A walk through Paris--Portrait
of Madame de Staël--An English ambassador--The Louvre--French
tragedy--The heights of Montmartre--Cossacks in the Champs
Elysées--£900 for substitute--Napoleon's legacies to his
successor--A dinner at the English Embassy--Botany and
mineralogy--Party at Madame de Staëls--A debate in the Corps
Législatif--Malmaison--Elbowing the marshals--St Cloud and
Trianon--The Catacombs.
_Edward Stanley to his Wife._
LETTER I.
HAVRE, _June 26, 1814_.
We have passed the Rubicon--nous voilà en France, all new, interesting,
and delightful. I know not where or how to begin--the observations of an
hour were I to paint in Miniature would fill my sheet; however, you must
not expect arrangement but read a sort of higgledy-piggledy journal as
things run through my head. I must pin them down like my Butterflies as
they pass, or they will be gone for ever.
At half-past four on Friday we sailed from Portsmouth, and saw the fleet
in the highest beauty--amongst them all while they were under sail
tacking, &c.; the delay has not been lost time. I should observe before
I quit the subject of Portsmouth events, that the Emperor could not find
time to sail about for mere amusement two days, this he left to the P.
R.[38] He (the Emperor) and the Duchess of Oldenburg occupied themselves
in visiting the Dockyards, Machinery, Haslar Hospital--in short,
everything worthy the notice of enlightened beings....
Our passengers were numerous, about 25 in a vessel of as many tons, with
only six what they called regular sleeping-places.... But I had no
reason to complain, our party was in many respects excellent--one, a
jewel of no ordinary value, by name Mr. John Cross, of whom I must
enquire more. I have seldom met with a man of more general and at the
same time deep information; he seemed perfect in everything. Mineralogy,
Antiquities, Chemistry, literature, human nature were at his fingers'
ends, and most gentlemanly manners into the bargain....
Amongst others we had three French officers, prisoners returning home.
They had not met before that evening, but had you heard their
incomparable voices when they sang their trios, you would have supposed
they had practised together for years. Mr. John Cross alone surpassed
them in their art. These gentlemen were certainly not _hostile_ to
Bonaparte, but to gratify their musical taste they stuck at
nothing--"God save the King," "Rule Britannia," "The Downfall of Paris"
were chaunted in swift succession, and the following commencement of one
of their songs will show the popular opinion of Bonaparte's campaign in
Russia:--
"Quel est le Monarque qui peut
Etre si fou
Que d'aller à Moscou
Pour perdre sa grande armée?"
A fair wind brought us in sight of the French coast early on Saturday.
At 11 we were under the headland of Havre, and at 12 anchored in the
bay, and were in an instant surrounded by chattering boatfuls who talked
much but did nothing. On landing we were escorted to the Passport Office
and most civilly received there; the difference, indeed, between public
offices in England and France is quite glaring. Even the Custom house
Officers apologised for keeping us waiting for the form of searching;
and tho' the Underlings condescended to take a Franc or two, the Officer
himself, when I offered money, turned away his head and hand and cried,
"Ba, Ba, Non, Non," with such apparent sincerity that I felt as if I had
insulted him by offering it....
The whole process of getting our passports signed, &c., being over, we
went to an Hotel. "Ici, garçon, vite mettez Messieurs les Anglois à
l'onzième," cried a landlady--and such a landlady! and up we scampered
to the 5th storey (there are more still above us) and to this said, "No
onzième." ...
We lost no time in the evening in looking about us; the town is situated
about two miles up the Seine on a sort of Peninsula surrounded with very
regular and strong fortifications. Its docks are incomparable, and
Bonaparte would have added still more to their magnificence, but now all
is at a stand--the grass is quietly filling up spaces hitherto taken up
by soldiers, Workmen, shot and guns; the numberless merchant vessels in
a state of decay proved sufficiently the entire destruction of all
trade; but what gave me particular satisfaction was the sight of a
flotilla of Praams, luggers, intended for the invasion of England, all
reposing in a happy progress to speedy putrefaction and decay. About a
mile from the town on the hill is a beautiful village called St. Michel,
where the Havre citizens have country houses. The town itself is as
singular as heart can wish--indeed, I am firmly convinced that the
difference between the towns of the Earth and Moon is not greater than
that between those of England and France. I scarcely know how to
describe it to you. Conceive to yourself a long street of immensely tall
houses from 5 to 8 Stories, _huddled_, for huddling is the only word
which can convey my meaning, and in truth their extraordinary height and
narrow breadth seem rather the effect of compression than design....
These houses are inhabited by various families of various occupations
and tastes, so that each Storey has its own peculiar character--here you
see a smart Balcony with windows to the ground, garnished above and
below with the insignia of washing woman or taylor. They are built of
all materials, though I think chiefly of wood (like our old Cheshire
houses) and stucco; and, thanks to time and the filth and poverty of the
people, their exterior assumes a general tint of pleasing dirty
picturesque. This said dirt may have its advantages as far as the eye is
concerned, but the nose is terribly assailed by the innumerable
compounded Effluvias which flow from every Alley-hole and corner. For
the people and their dress! who shall venture to describe the things I
have seen in the shape of caps, hats and bonnets, cloaks and petticoats,
&c.? There I meet a group of Oldenburg Bonnets broader and more loaded
with flowers, bunches, bows, plumes than any we saw in London, and would
you believe it I am already not merely getting reconciled but absolutely
an admirer of them.
Having passed the groups of bonnets I meet at the next moment a set of
beings ycleped Poissardes, caparisoned with coverings of all sorts,
shapes, and sizes--here flaps a head decorated with lappets like
butterflies' wings--here nods a bower of cloth and pins tall and narrow
as the houses themselves, but I must not be too prolix on any one
particular subject.
_Sunday._
We have been to the great Church. It was full, very full, but the
congregation nearly all female.
There is certainly something highly imposing and impressive in that
general spirit of outward devotion at least which pervades all ranks.
Nothing can be finer than their music: we had a sermon, too, and not a
bad one. The order of things is somewhat reversed. In England we wear
white bands and black gown, here the preacher had black bands and white
gown, and I fear the eloquence of St. Paul would not prevent the smiles
of my hearers in Alderley Church were I to pop on my head in the middle
of the discourse a little black cap of which I enclose an accurate
representation.
What shall I say of political feeling? I think they appear to think or
care very little about it; the military are certainly dissatisfied and
the Innkeepers delighted, but further I know not what to tell you; I am
told, however, that the new proclamation for the more decent observance
of Sunday, by forcing the Shopkeepers to shut up their shops during
Mass, is considered a great grievance.....
LETTER II.
ROUEN, _June 28, 1814_.
Foolish people are those who say it is not worth while to cross the
water for a week. For a week! why, for an hour, for a minute, it would
be worth the trouble--in a glance a torrent of news, ideas, feelings,
and conceptions are poured in which are valuable through life. We staid
at Havre till Monday morning, and though a Cantab friend of Edward's, on
bundling into his cabriolet, expressed his astonishment we would think
of staying a day, when he had seen more than enough of the filthy place
in an hour, we amused ourselves very well till the moment of
departure....
At 4 on Monday we stepped into the cabriolet or front part of our
diligence, on the panels of which was written "Fugio ut Fulgor," and
though appearances were certainly against anything like compliance with
this notice, the result was much nearer than I could have conceived.
Five horses were yoked to this unwieldy caravan--two to the pole, and
three before, and on one of these pole horses mounted a Driver without
Stockings in Jack Boots, crack went an enormous whip, and away galloped
our 5 coursers. It is astonishing how they can be managed by such simple
means, yet so it was; we steered to a nicety sometimes in a trot,
sometimes in a canter, sometimes on a full gallop.
The time for changing horses by my watch was not more than one
minute--before you knew one stage was passed another was commenced; they
gave us 5 minutes to eat our breakfast--an operation something like that
of ducks in a platter, the dish consisting of coffee and milk with rolls
sopped in it. The roads are incomparable--better than ours and nearly if
not quite as good as the Irish. The country from Havre to Rouen is rich
in corn of every description--there is nothing particular in the face
of it, and yet you would, if awakened from a dream, at once declare you
were not in England; in the first place there are no hedges--the road
was almost one continuous avenue of apple-trees; the timber trees are
not planted in hedgerows but in little clumps or groves, sometimes but
generally rather removed from the road, and it is amongst these that the
villages and cottages are concealed, for it is surprising how few in
comparison with England are seen. The trees are of two
descriptions--either trimmed up to the very top or cut off so as to form
underwood. I did not observe one that could be called a branching tree;
the finest beech we saw looked like a pole with a tuft upon it. The
cottages are mostly of clay, generally speaking very clean, and coming
nearer to what I should define a cottage to be than ours in England.
You see no cows in the fields, they are all tethered by the road-side or
other places, by which a considerable quantity of grass must be saved,
and each is attended by an old woman or child. We passed through 2 or 3
small towns and entered Rouen 8 hours after quitting Havre, 57 miles.
Rouen, beautiful Rouen, we entered through such an avenue of noble
trees, its spires, hills and woods peeping forth, and the Seine winding
up the country, wide as the Thames at Chelsea.
Such a gateway! I have made a sketch, but were I to work it up for a
month it would still fall far short and be an insult to the subject it
attempts to represent. If Havre can strike the eye of a stranger, what
must not Rouen do? Every step teems with novelty and richness, Gothic
gateways, halls, and houses. What are our churches and cathedrals in
England compared to the noble specimens of Gothic architecture which
here present themselves?... Rouen has scarcely yet recovered from the
dread they were in of the Cossacks, who were fully expected, and all
valuables secreted--not that they were absolutely without news from the
capital: the diligence had been stopped only once during the three days
after the Allies entered Paris. Till then they had proceeded _comme à
l'ordinaire_, and the diligence in which we are to proceed to-night left
it when Shots were actually passing over the road during the battle of
Montmartre--how they could find passengers to quit it at such an
interesting moment I cannot conceive; had I been sure of being eaten up
by a Horde of Cossacks, I could not have left the spot.
What an odd people the French are! they will not allow they were in
ignorance of public affairs before the entrance of the Allies. "Oh no,
we had the Gazettes," they say, and I cannot find that they considered
these Gazettes as doubtful authorities. We have plenty of troops
here--genuine veterans horse and foot; I saw them out in line yesterday.
The men were soldier-like looking fellows enough, but one of our cavalry
regiments would have trotted over their horses in a minute without much
ceremony; the army is certainly dissatisfied. Marmont is held in great
contempt; they will have it he betrayed Paris, and say it would be by no
means prudent for him to appear at the head of a line when there was any
firing. The people may or may not like their emancipation from tyranny,
but their vanity--they call it glory--has been tarnished by the
surrender of Paris, and they declare on all hands that if Marmont had
held out for a day Bonaparte would have arrived, and in an instant
settled the business by defeating the Allies. In vain may you hint that
he was inferior in point of numbers (to say anything of the skill and
merit of the Russians perhaps would not have been very prudent), and
that he could not have succeeded. A doubting shake of the head,
significant shrug of the shoulders, and expressive "Ba, Ba," explain
well enough their opinions on the subject.
I cannot conceive a more grating badge to the officers than the white
cockade--the fleur de lys is now generally adopted in place of the N and
other insignia of Bonaparte, but, excepting from some begging boys, I
have never heard the cry of "Vive Louis XVIII.!" and then it was done, I
shrewdly suspect, as an acceptable cry for the Anglois, and followed
immediately by "un pauvre petit liard, s'il vous plait, Mons." We went
to the play last night; the house was filthy beyond description, and the
company execrable as far as dress went; few women, and those in their
morning dress and Oldenburg Bonnets--the men almost all officers, and a
horrid-looking set they were. I would give them credit for military
talents; they all looked like chiefs of banditti--swarthy visages,
immense moustachios, vulgar, disgusting, dirty, and ill-bred in their
appearance.
From all I hear the account of the duels between these and the Russian
officers at Paris were perfectly correct.[39]
I am just come in from a stroll about the town. Among the most
interesting circumstances that occurred was the inspection of
detachments of several regiments quartered there. I happened to be close
to the General when he addressed some Grenadiers de la Garde Impériale
on the subject of their dismissal, which it seems they wanted. They
spoke to him without any respect, and on his explaining the terms on
which their dismissal could alone be had, they appeared by no means
satisfied, and when he went I heard one of them in talking to a party
collected round him say, "Eh bien, s'il ne veut pas nous congédier, nous
passerons." A man standing by told me a short time ago a regiment of
Imperial Chasseurs when called upon to shout "Vive Louis XVIII.!" at
Boulogne, to a man, officers included, cried "Vive Napoleon!" and I feel
very certain that had the same thing been required to-day from the
soldiers on the field, they would have acted in the same manner, and
that the spectators would have cried "Amen."
I heard abundance of curious remarks on the subject of the war, the
peace, and the changes; they will have it they were not conquered. "Oh
no." "Paris ne fut jamais vaincue--elle s'est soumise seulement!" I
leave it to your English heads to define the difference between
submission and conquest.
Beef and mutton are 5d. per lb. here. Chickens 3s. the couple, though 24
per cent. was probably added to me as an Englishman. Bread a 100 per
cent. cheaper than in England--at least so I was informed by an
Englishman in the commercial line. Fish cheap as dirt at Havre, 3 John
Dorys for 6d.
From Havre to Rouen, 57 miles, cost us £1 6s. for both; from thence to
Paris, 107 miles, £2; our dinners, including wine, are about 4s. a head;
breakfast 2s., beds 1s. 6d. each.
LETTER III.
PARIS, _June 30th_.
Here we arrived about an hour ago; for the last two miles the country
was a perfect garden--cherries, gooseberries, apple-trees, corn,
vineyards, all chequered together in profusion; in other respects
nothing remarkable....
The first sight of Paris, or rather its situation, is about 10 miles
off, when the heights of Montmartre, on one side, and the dome of the
Hôpital des Invalides on the other reminded us of their trophies and
disasters at the same time....
[Illustration: OLD BRIDGE AND CHÂTELET.
_Paris July 4, 1814_
_To face p. 108._
Now you must enter our rooms in l'Hôtel des Etrangers, rue du Hazard, as
I know you wish to see minutely. First walk, if you please, into an
antechamber paved with red hexagon tiles (dirty enough, to be sure), and
the saloon also, into which you next enter through a pair of folding
doors. This saloon is in the genuine tawdry French style--gold and
silver carving work and dirt are the component features. It is about 20
feet square, plenty of chairs, sofas of velvet, and so forth, but only
one wretched rickety table in the centre. Two folding doors open into
our bedroom, which is in furniture pretty much like the rest; the beds
are excellent--fitted up in a sort of tent fashion--and mine has a
looking-glass occupying the whole of one side, in which I may at leisure
contemplate myself in my night-cap, for I cannot discover for what other
purpose it was placed there.
Now let us take a walk--put on thick shoes or you will find yourself
rather troubled with the paving stones, for nothing like a flagged
footpath exists; a slight inclination from each side terminates in a
central gutter, from which are exploded showers of mud by the passing
carriages and cabriolets. You must get on as you can; horse and foot,
coaches and carts are jumbled together, and he who walks in Paris must
have his eyes about him. The streets are in general narrow and
irregular, and so much alike that it requires no small skill to find
one's way home again. Ariadne in Paris would wish for her clue. First we
ascended the bronze column[40] in the Place de Vendôme--figure to
yourself a column perfect in proportions much resembling Nelson's in
Dublin, ornamented after the plan of Trajan's pillar--all of bronze, on
which the operations of the wars and victories in Germany are recorded.
Bonaparte's statue crowned it, but that was removed. The column itself,
however, will remain an eternal statue commemorating his deeds, and
though the Eagles and letter N are rapidly effacing from every quarter,
this must last till Paris shall be no more. From the top of this pillar
you of course have a magnificent view, and it must have been a choice
spot from whence to behold the fight of Montmartre. It will scarcely
interest you much to say much about the other public buildings, suffice
it to say that all the improvements are in the very best
style--magnificent to the last degree; they may be the works of a
Tyrant, but it was a Tyrant of taste, who had more sense than to spend
120,000 Louis in sky-rockets. His public buildings at least were for the
public good, and were ornaments to his capital.
But let us turn from inanimate to living objects; since I penned the
last line I have been sitting with Mme. de Staël.... By appointment we
called at 12.[41] For a few moments we waited in a gaudy drawing-room;
the door then opened and an elderly form dressed _à la jeunesse_
appeared; she is not ugly; she is not vulgar (Edward begs to differ from
this opinion, he thinks her ugly beyond measure); her countenance is
pleasing, but very different from anything my fancy had formed; a pale
complexion not far from that of a white Mulatto, if you will allow me to
make the bull; her eyebrows dark and her hair quite sable, dry and crisp
like a negro's, though not quite so curling. She scarcely gave me time
to make my compliments in French before she spoke in fluent English. I
was not sorry she fought under British colors, for though she was never
at a loss, I knew I could express and defend myself better than had she
spoken in French. I hurried her as much as decency would permit from one
subject to another, but I found politics were uppermost in her
thoughts.... She was equally averse to both parties--to the royal
because she said it was despotism; the Imperial because it was tyranny.
"Is there," said I, "no happy medium; are there none who can feel the
advantages of liberty, and wish for a free constitution?" "None," said
she, "but myself and a few--some 12 or 15--we are nothing; not enough to
make a dinner party." I ventured to throw in a little flattery--I knew
my ground--and remarked that an opinion like hers, which had in some
measure influenced Europe, was in itself an host; the compliment was
well received, and in truth I could offer it _conscientiously_ to pay
tribute to her abilities.
On leaving Mme. de S. we paid another visit. From the greatest woman we
went to see our greatest man in Paris, Sir Charles Stuart,[42] to whom
Lord Sheffield had given me a letter of introduction. This had been sent
the day before, and of course I now went to see the effect. After
waiting in the Anti-chamber of the great man for about half an hour, and
seeing divers and sundry faces pass and repass in review, we were
summoned to an audience. We found a little, vulgar-looking man, whom I
should have mistaken for the great man's butler if he had not first
given a hint that he was bonâ fide the great man himself. I think the
conversation was nearly thus: E. S.: "Pray, Sir, are the Marshalls in
Paris, and if so is it easy to see them?" Sir C. S.: "Upon my soul I
don't know." E. S.: "Pray, Sir, is there anything interesting to a
stranger like myself likely to take place in the course of the next
fortnight?" Sir C. S.: "Upon my soul I don't know." E. S.: "Pray, Sir,
is the interior of the Thuilleries worth seeing, and could we easily see
the apartments?" Sir C. S.: "Upon my soul I don't know." This, I do
assure you, was the cream of the conversation. Now certainly a great man
ought to look wise and say he does not know so and so, when in fact he
knows all about it, but somehow or other I could not help thinking that
Sir Charles spoke the truth, for if I may draw any inference from
Physiognomy, I never saw a face upon which the character of "upon my
soul I don't know" was more visibly stamped. I left my card, bowed, and
retired....
I next turned my eyes to the Louvre.[43] What are the exhibitions of
London, modern or ancient? What are Lord Stafford's, Grosvenor's,
Angerstein's, &c., in comparison with this unrivalled gallery? Words
cannot describe the coup d'oeil. Figure to yourself a magnificent room so
long that you would be unable to recognise a person at the other
extremity, so long that the perspective lines terminate in a point,
covered with the finest works of art all classed and numbered so as to
afford the utmost facility of inspection; no questions asked on
entering, no money to be given to bowing porters or butlers, no cards of
admission procured by interest--all open to the public view, unfettered
and unshackled; the liberality of the exhibition is increased by the
appearance of Easels and desks occupied by artists who copy at leisure.
It is noble and grand beyond imagination. In the Halls below are the
Statues, arranged with equal taste, though, as they are in different
rooms, the general effect is not so striking. I recognised all my old
friends, the Venus de Medicis was alone new to me. She is sadly
mutilated, but is still the admiration of all persons of sound judgment
and orthodox taste, amongst whom, I regret to say, I deserve not to be
classed, as I really cannot enter into the merits of statues, and the
difference between a perfect and moderate specimen of sculpture appears
to me infinitely less than between good and moderate paintings....
After dining at a Restaurateur's, who gave us a most excellent dinner,
wine, &c., for about 3s. a head, we went to the Théâtre Français, or the
Drury Lane of Paris. We expected to see Talma[44] in Mérope, but his
part was taken by one who is equally famous, Dufour, and the female part
by Mme. Roncour. She was intolerable, though apparently a great
favourite; he tolerable, and that is all I can say. In truth, French
tragedy is little to my taste.... The best part of the play was the
opportunity it afforded "les bonnes gens" de Paris to show their
loyalty, and much gratified I was in hearing some enthusiastic applause
of certain passages as they applied to the return of their ancient
sovereign. There is something very sombre and vulgar in the French
playhouses with the men's boots and the women's bonnets. Could I in an
instant waft you from the solitudes of Stoke to the clatter of Paris,
how you would stare to see the boxes filled with persons almost
extinguished in their enormous casques of straw and flowers. I have seen
several bearing, in addition to other ornaments, a bunch of 5 or 6
lilies as large as life....
[Illustration: POMP. NOTRE DAME.
_Paris, July 11, 1814._
_To face p. 115._]
LETTER IV.
PARIS, _July 8, 1814_.
You will take for granted we have seen all the exhibitions, libraries,
&c., of Paris; they will wait for more ample description--a glance on
one or two will be sufficient.
L'Hôpital des Invalides was, you know, famous for its magnificent dome,
which was decorated with flags, standards, and trophies of the
victorious arms of France; impatient to shew them to Edward, I hastened
thither, but alas, not a pennant remains. On the near approach of the
Allies they were taken down, and some say burnt, others buried, others
removed to a distance. I asked one of the Invalides whether the Allies
had not got possession of a few. With great indignation and animation he
exclaimed, "Je suis aussi sûr que je suis de mon existence qu'il n'out
pas pris un _seul_ même."
On Sunday last, after having hunted everywhere for a Protestant church,
one of which we found at last by some blunder quite empty, we went with
our landlord, a serjeant in the national guard, to inspect the heights
of Chaumont, Belleville, and Mt. Martre.... We ascended from the town
for about 3 miles to a sort of large rambling village, in situation and
circumstances somewhat like Highgate. This was Belleville, whose heights
run on receding from Paris a considerable distance, but terminate rather
abruptly in the direction of Mont Martre, from which they are separated
by a low, swampy valley containing all the dead horses, filth, and
exuvious putrefactions of Paris.... Immediately below, extending for
many miles, including St. Denis and other villages, are fine plains;
upon which plains about 3 in the morning the Russians deployed, and the
Spectacle must have been interesting beyond measure.... On the heights
and towards the base were assembled part of Marmont's[45] army with
their field pieces and some few heavier guns; there, too, were stationed
the greater part of the students of l'Ecole Polytechnique, corresponding
to our Woolwich cadets. Nothing could surpass their conduct when their
brethren in arms fled; they clung to their guns and were nearly all
annihilated. I was assured that their bodies were found in masses on the
spot where they were originally stationed; their number was about
300.... I met a few in the course of the day who were, like ourselves,
contemplating the field of battle, and who spoke like the rest of their
countrymen of the baseness of Marmont and treachery of the day. The
cannonade must have been pretty sharp while it lasted, as about 5,000
Russians perished before they got possession of the heights--though the
actual operation of storming did not occupy half an hour--but their
lines were quite open to a severe fire of grape from eminences
commanding every inch of the plain. Whilst this work was going on at
Belleville, another Russian column performed a similar service at Mt.
Martre, which is nearer Paris--in fact, immediately above the
Barriers.... Thither our guide next conducted us, and pointed out the
particular spots where the assault and carnage were most desperate. A
number of Parties were walking about and all talking of the battle or
Bonaparte.... Till this day I had never heard him openly and honestly
avowed, but here I had several opportunities of incorporating myself in
groups in which his name was bandied about with every invective which
French hatred and fluency could invent. Their tongues, like Baron
Munchausen's horn, seemed to run with an accumulated rapidity from the
long embargo laid upon them. "Sacré gueux, bête, voleur," &c., were the
current coin in which they repaid his despotism, and I was happy to find
that his conduct in Spain was by all held in utter detestation and
considered as the ground work of his ruin.
I saw one party in such a state of bodily and mental agitation that I
ran up expecting to see a battle, but the multiplicity of hands, arms,
and legs which were rising, falling, wheeling, and kicking, were merely
energetic additions to the general subject.... The National guard were
not (with few exceptions) actually engaged. To the amount of 36,000 they
occupied the towns and barriers, by all accounts guessing, or, as one
intelligent conductor assured us, very certain that they would not be
called upon to fight much for the defence of Paris.... Indeed, from all
I have been able to learn, and from all I have been able to see, it
appears pretty clear that no serious defence was intended--a little
opposition was necessary for the look of the thing. And although Marmont
might have done more, I feel convinced that had he exerted himself to
the utmost, Paris must have perished.
The heights were defended in a very inadequate and unsoldierlike manner;
not a single work was thrown up before the guns, no entrenchments, no
bastions, and yet with three days' notice all this might have easily
been done. The barriers all round Paris were, and still are, hemmed
round with Palisades with loop holes, each of which might have been
demolished by half a dozen rounds from a 6-pounder; the French, indeed,
laugh at them and consider them as mere divertissements of Bonaparte's,
and feeble attempts to excite a spirit of defence amongst the people--a
spirit which, fortunately for Europe, was never excited. The lads of
Paris had determined to take their chance and not to do one atom more
than they were called upon or compelled to do. These wooden barriers
are made of le bois de tremble (aspen), and the pun was that the
fortifications "tremblaient partout." You will like to hear something of
Edgeworth's friend, St. Jean d'Angély;[46] he came up to the barrier
where our landlord (who had been formerly an imperial guardsman and
fought in the battle of Marengo) was posted; here he called loudly for
some brandy, for which he got laughed at by the whole line of guard; he
then sallied forth and proceeded a short distance, when his horse took
fright, and as St. Jean was, as our landlord told us, "entiérement du
même avis avec son cheval," they both set off as fast as they could, and
were in a few minutes far beyond all danger, nor did they appear again
amid the din of arms. The fate of Paris was decided with a rapidity and
sang-froid quite astonishing. By 5 o'clock in the Evening all was
entirely at an end, and the national guard and allies incorporated and
doing the usual duty of the town. They were, indeed, under arms a little
longer than usual, and a few more sentries were placed and the theatre
not open that Evening, but that single evening was the only exception,
and the next day the Palais Royal was as brilliant and more cheerful
than ever, with its motley groups of visitors. The Cossacks were not
quartered in the Palais Royal, they were in the Ch. Elysées, the trees
of which bear visible marks of their horses' teeth, but a good many came
in from curiosity and hung their horses in the open space of the
Palais.... The Russian discipline was most severe, and not an article
was taken from any individual with impunity, immediate death was the
punishment. The field of battle bore few marks of the event--a few
skeletons of horses and rags of uniforms; the more surprising thing is
that, notwithstanding all the trampling of horse and foot on the plains
below so late as the end of March, the corn has not suffered in the
slightest degree. I wish the Alderley crops were as good.
You have no idea of the severity of the conscription. That men can be
attached to a being who dragged them, with such violence to every
feeling, from their homes would be astonishing, but for the well-known
force of the "selfish principle" which amalgamates their glory with his.
A friend of our landlord's paid at various times 18,000 fr., about £900;
he thought himself safe, but Bonaparte wanted a Volunteer guard of
honour; he was told it would be prudent to enroll himself, which in
consideration of the great sums he had paid would be merely a nominal
business, and that he would never be called upon. He did put his name
down; was called out in a trice and shot in the next campaign. Our
waiter at Rouen assured me his friends had bought him off by giving in
the first instance £25 for a substitute, with an annuity to the said
substitute of an equal sum--pretty well this, for a poor lad of about
16.
Thanks to our landlord and not to Sir Charles Stuart, we might have been
introduced into the Thuilleries, but came too late. We lost nothing, as
after Mass the King marched through a beautiful sort of Glass gallery
facing the Thuilleries Gardens, and then came out into a Balcony to shew
himself to the crowd there assembled! he was received with universal and
loud applause. "Vive le Roi!" was heard as loud as heart could wish,
hats, sticks and handkerchiefs were flying in all directions. When he
entered Paris, in one of the Barriers a sort of Archway was made and so
contrived that as the carriage passed under a crown fell upon it, a band
at the same time striking up "Où peut on être mieux que dans le sein de
sa famille," which is, you know, one of their favourite airs.
Poor man, he has enough to do, and will, I fear, experience a turbulent
reign. Bonaparte has left his troops 3 years in arrears, the treasury
empty, two parties equally clamourous for places and pensions, both of
which must be satisfied. Their taxes are heavier than I thought they
were. Our landlord has an estate worth about 2,000 frcs., his father
paid 200 fr. a year for it, and he is now under the necessity of paying
1,200, having only a clear surplus of 800, and the finances are at too
low an ebb to allow of any immediate reduction in their taxes....
To take things in their course, I must now proceed to my dinner at Sir
Charles Stuart's. I was shewn into a room where I found three or four
Englishmen gaping at one another. Before many more had assembled, in
came Sir C., and I _believe_, or rather I am willing to flatter myself,
he made a sort of half bow towards us, and then we stood and gaped
again; a few more words between him and one or two who were to go to
Court the day after, but to me and some others not a syllable of any
description was uttered, and when some more English were shewn in who
were, I presume, as respectable as myself, his behaviour was quite
boorish, he did not condescend to look towards the door. These things
went on till a throng of Spaniards with Stars and orders came in; with
these he appeared tolerably intimate, and also with three Englishmen who
afterwards appeared. We were about 24 in number, and all I had to do in
the half-hour preceding dinner was to look out for the most intelligent,
gentleman-like-looking Englishman I could, to secure a place by him....
You will ask who I met. I protest to you that I went and returned
without being able to learn more than that the secretary's name was
Bidwell, and that one other person in company was a Mr. Martin, who had
been agent for prisoners; of the rest I knew nothing, not even of my
neighbour; birth, parentage, and education were alike involved in the
cloud of diplomatic mystery which seemed to impend heavily over this
mansion, and when my neighbour asked me, or I asked him, the names of
any person present the answer was mutual--"I don't know." Sir Charles
sat in the centre with a gold-coated Don on each side of him, with whom
he might have whispered, for though I sat within two of his Excellency,
I never heard the sound of his voice: however, my opinion may not
coincide with all that pass from Calais to Dover, as I heard one man
remark to another that his countenance was very pleasing, to which was
added in reply, "and he is a very sensible man." These things may be,
but I never met with one more perfect in the art of concealing his
talents.
Now for the Jardin des Plantes and its lectures. This same Jardin is a
large space appropriated to Botanical pursuits, public walks,
menageries, museums, &c. There you see Bears and Lions and, in fact, the
finest collection of Birds and Beasts alive, some in little paddocks,
others in clean and airy dens. But this is the least part of this
delightful establishment; its museums and cabinets are like the Louvre,
the finest collection in the world. Everything is arranged in such order
that it is almost impossible to see it without feeling a love of
science; here the mineralogist, geologist, naturalist, entomologist may
each pursue his favourite studies unmolested. Here, as everywhere else,
the utmost liberality is shewn to all, but to Englishmen particularly,
your country is your passport. Like the mysterious "Open Sesame" in the
Arabian nights, you have only to say, "Je suis Anglais" and you go in
and out at pleasure. I have seen Frenchmen begging in vain with ladies
and officers of the party and turned away because they had happened on
the wrong day or hour, and then we, without solicitation, have been
desired to walk in. But all these museums and living animals, curious
and interesting as they are, are surpassed by the still greater
liberality shewn in the daily lectures given by the members of the
Institute or Professors of the several sciences. I have attended
Haiiy,[47] Duméril,[48] l'Ettorel, du Mare, and others upon Mineralogy,
Nat. Hist., and Entomology, and Haiiy, you know, is the first
mineralogist in Europe, and I never looked upon a more interesting
being. When he entered the lecture room, every one rose out of respect,
and well they might. He is 80 years of age apparently, with a most
heavenly patriarchal countenance and silver hair; his teeth are gone, so
that I could not understand a word he said, though, indeed, had he been
possessed of all the teeth in Christendom I apprehend I should not have
been much wiser, as he lectured on the angular forms of the Amphiboles.
He looked like a man picked out of a crystal, and when he dies he ought
to be reincarnated and placed in his own museum.
Another Scene to which I found my way was equally interesting: I went to
a lecture on Iconographic drawing, or Science, as it was called, of
representing natural subjects. In other words, when I got there I found
it was a professorship of drawing, everything connected with Nat. Hist.,
such as flowers, animals, insects; and the Professor lectures one day
and practically instructs on another. I happened to be present at one
of the latter. Conceive my surprise at finding myself in a large library
filled with tables, drawing books, ladies and gentlemen all sketching
either from nature or excellent copies here. As it was not a public day
except to those who wished to attend for instruction, I ought not with
propriety to have intruded, but "J'étais Anglois" and every attention
was paid. You would have given a little finger to have seen the room; it
was a hot summer's day, but there all was cool and fragrant; the windows
opened on the gardens, the tables were covered with groupes of flowers
in vases; the company, about 40, were seated up and down where ever they
chose, each with a nice desk and drawing board--in short, it was a scene
which excited feelings of respect for a nation which thus patronised
everything which could add to the rational improvement of its members.
Were France the seat of religion and pure virtue it would be Utopia
verified; but, alas! there are spots which stain the picture and cast a
balance decidedly in favour of England: we are rough, we are
narrow-minded, but he who travels is brought to confess and say
"England! with all thy faults I love thee still." ...
LETTER V.
PARIS, _July 10th_.
Madame de Staëls party formed a fine contrast to the gloom and
ponderosity of Sir Charles Stuart's dinner the day before. We went a
quarter before nine, thinking, as it was the nominal hour, it would be
ill-bred to go too early, but the French are more punctual in these
matters, for we found the good people all assembled and Marmont[49]
walked out not five minutes before we walked in.
In his stead we had General Lafayette,[50] the cornerstone of the
Revolution. He is a tall, clumsy-made man, not much unlike Dr.
Nightingale, tho' rather thinner. His countenance discovers thought and
sound judgment, but by no means quickness or brilliancy; his manners
were quiet, unassuming, and gentleman-like. He spoke little, and then
said nothing particularly worth notice.
The next lion announced was a lioness, the celebrated Madame
Récamier,[51] and though she is not in her première jeunesse, I can
easily conceive how she could once dazzle the world. It would be too
much to give her credit for superior talents, but her manners were very
agreeable tho' rather like all other belles of France who have fallen in
my way, somewhat à la languissante. But I am all this while forgetting
the star of the evening, the Baroness herself. She sat in a line with
about six ladies, before whom were arranged as many gentlemen, all
listening to the oracular tongue of their political Sybil.
She was in high spirits because she had been warmed up by the decision
of the court and commons concerning the liberty of the press, which had
received an effectual check by limiting all liberty of speech and
opinion to works containing not less than 480 pages, thus excluding the
papers and pamphlets. The moment we were announced, before she asked me
how I did, she enquired whether I had heard this notable decision, and
then demanded what I thought of it. Of course, I assured her how much I
lamented the prospect of an inundation of dull, prolix books to which
France was thus inevitably exposed. This, as we spoke in English, she
immediately translated for the benefit of the company, adding "Ce
Monsieur Anglois dit cela, et c'est bien vrai il a raison," and then she
laughed and seemed to enjoy the catalogue of stupid books which might be
anticipated.
I must confess the party was a little formidable; in England I should
have said formal, but there is something in French manners wholly
foreign to any application of the word formal, and really after
exchanging a few remarks I was glad to be introduced to her son[52] and
daughter,[53] with both of whom I was much pleased. They are clever and
agreeable. She is not above eighteen or twenty, and if her complexion
was good would be very pretty. She was not shy, beginning conversation
in a trice upon interesting subjects. She compared the English and
French character, in which she (and I presume it was a maternal opinion)
would not allow an atom of merit to the latter. On finding that I was a
clergyman she immediately began upon Religion, talked of Hodgson,[54]
Andrews, Wilberforce,[55] and then in questioning me about the
Methodists (about whom she seemed to have heard much and entertained
confused notions) we slid into mysticism, which carried us, of course,
into the third vol. of "Allemagne"; she spoke in raptures of the mystic
school, said she was quite one in heart--"Cela se peut," thought I; but
somehow or other "Je ne le crois pas," for I have heard some little
anecdotes of her mother, in which, whatever may be her theoretical views
of mysticism, her practical opinions are rather more lax than Fénelon's.
Much against my will I took my leave, willing to hope that Mme. S. spoke
the truth when she said how glad she should be to see me if I visited
Paris during the winter; she is off to Switzerland in a few days. The
French say we have spoilt her--in fact, she occupies little of the
public attention in Paris.
The next event most interesting was our visit to the Corps Législatif,
or House of Commons. We went to a certain door, to which we were refused
admittance, and told it was too full or too late. But said I, "Nous
sommes Anglois"; in an instant a man came up and placed us in an inner
gallery in the body of the house. The House is something like the Royal
Institution--of course larger and beautifully fitted up. Considering it
as the Royal Institution for your better comprehension, the President
sits on a tribunal throne in a recess corresponding to the fire-place;
immediately below is a sort of Rostrum from whence the Members speak, in
situation like the lecturer of the R.I. In point of decoration and
external appearance both of house and members, it is far superior to our
House of Commons, as all the members wear uniforms of blue and gold, but
taking it all together I know not that anything can be more illustrative
of the French Character--externally all correct and delightful, but
within "a sad rottenness of the state of Denmark."
The president began the proceedings by ringing a bell; a paper was then
read detailing, I believe, the orders of the day. A member then arose
and went to the Rostrum. In the middle of his speech he was called to
order and told it was a very bad speech, so down he came and another
mounted. He was equally disliked, for they told him he spoke too low and
they could not hear him, so he disappeared; then half a dozen got up and
were so impatient that they began speaking altogether before they
reached the Tribune. In vain did the President ring his bell, and stand
up and gesticulate. Silence, however, was at length obtained, and he
addressed them, but with little better success than the rest. One man
then stept forward and did obtain a hearing, for he had good lungs and a
fair share of eloquence. His speech was short, but it was by far the
best; his name was Dumolard.[56] Soon afterwards the sitting broke up;
the whole took up little more than an hour. I know not whether the
perfect want of order was more ridiculous or disgusting; the sittings of
the Senate (Peers) are private....
We will now take you to Malmaison, the interesting retreat of the
interesting Joséphine. Her character was scarcely known in England. We
hear little more of her than as a discarded Empress or Mistress of
Buonaparte's, but she had much to recommend her to public as well as
private notice. The French all speak highly of her, and it is
impossible, on seeing Malmaison and hearing of her virtues, not to join
in their opinion. To be sure, as a Frenchman told me in running through
a list of virtues, "Elle avait été un peu libertine, mais ce n'est rien
cela," and, indeed, I could almost have added, "C'est bien vrai," for
every allowance should be made; consider the situation in which she was
placed, her education, her temptations; many a saint might have fallen
from the eminence on which she stood; I never dwelt with more
satisfaction or felt more inclined to coincide in that benevolent
verdict of the best of judges of human nature and human frailty,
"Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more," than in criticising the
character of Joséphine.
[Illustration: MALMAISON]
I am not sure whether you know exactly the history of Malmaison. The
house and land attached to it were purchased by Buonaparte when First
Consul, and given to Joséphine, who made it what it is, and bought more
land, so that it is now in fact a little Estate. On being divorced, she
retired thither with Eugène Beauharnais, her son, and younger children.
Her pursuits and occupations will be best understood by describing what
we saw. I should say, before I proceed, that it required some interest
to get in, and that we went with the Hibberts, who knew the secretary of
the Swedish Ambassador, in whose suite we were incorporated for
admission. The chief room in the house is what is called the Gallery A,
planned and finished according to her own designs; the floor is a mass
of dark inlaid marble, the ceiling arched and light admitted from it,
the whole not much unlike the Gallery at Winnington on a much larger
scale. It would be difficult to describe the fitting up of the interior.
The walls are hung with the most exquisite selections from ancient
Masters, not stolen, but many given to her, and the rest purchased by
herself; but I was more struck by the statues than with any thing else.
The dots represent them and their situations in the Gallery; they are
chiefly by two modern artists, Canova and Boher, though I fear the
reputation of my taste and judgment will suffer by the confession. I
still must confess that I felt far more pleasure than in looking either
upon Apollo or the Venus de Medicis. There was a Bust and Statue of
herself, the latter particularly beautiful, and if accurate, which I was
assured it was, the original must have been elegant and interesting to
the last degree. It reminded me much of Lady Charlemont, with a stronger
expression of sense. The rest of the room was furnished with tables
inlaid with marble, upon which were a variety of bronzes, pieces of
armour, &c., and her musical instruments were as she had left them, and
everything wore an appearance of comfort which is seldom seen in the
midst of such magnificence. Through folding doors you enter into a
smaller room hung with pictures. C. was her chapel; before a little
unostentatious altar, which had every appearance of having daily
witnessed her devotions, was a beautiful Raphael; the walls were hung
with seven small Scripture subjects by Poussin. I would have given a
great deal to have been her invisible observer in this sacred
retirement. She must have been alone, for it was scarcely large enough
to admit priest or attendant.
D. was a room in which she breakfasted, during which time music was
generally performed in B. From E. was a fine view of the Aqueduct of
Marly, and E. was the way to the Garden, which she had fitted up in the
English style. I have not time to enter into detail of these or her
greenhouses. She was fond of Society and patronised the Arts. She
allowed Artists to sit at leisure in her gallery to copy pictures, and
conversed with them a great deal. She did an infinity of good to all
within her reach and was beloved by all. Her death was very sudden; she
had complained of a sore throat, but not sufficiently to confine her to
her room. On a certain Wednesday or Thursday she was in her Park in high
spirits, showing it to the Emperor Alexander and King of Prussia; being
rather heated she drank some iced water; in the evening she was worse,
on Sunday she was dead, sensible to the last; talked of death, seemed
perfectly resigned--to use the words of a French lady, who told me many
interesting particulars, "sa mort était très chrétienne." They were
busied in packing pictures and making catalogues, but I believe there is
no fear of dismantling the house, as Eugène Beauharnais[57] and the
children are to have it in conformity to her will.[58] I have seen few
things since my departure from England which have interested me more
than Malmaison, and I could almost fancy that her statue, which is that
of a pensive female, with the chin resting on the hand, was her ghost
ruminating over the extraordinary events which had recently occurred,
and which she had quitted for ever. You will see Malmaison in my
sketch-book, as well as the Castle of Vincennes, which is as picturesque
and imposing as it is interesting, from the circumstances attending the
Duke d'Enghien's[59] death. It seems this event was known at Paris the
next day and spoken of with as much freedom as the despotic government
of Paris would admit....
I went yesterday to see the house of Peers in the Luxembourg. The Hall
of sittings is not unlike that of the Corps Législatif, but the
decorations are more interesting, each niche being filled with Austrian
standards and a few others. Under a gilt dome, supported by similar
pillars, was the spot where Napoleon's throne was _not_. The remnants I
saw lying in one of the Ante-rooms, all of which were ornamented with
immense pictures of the principal battles, but these, out of compliment
to the Emperor, &c., had been covered over with green baize, even the
very standards had been removed during the stay of the Emperor of
Austria in Paris. There is a sitting on Tuesday, and if I stand at the
door I may see the Marshals alight, but my curiosity would not be
satisfied, as no persons seem to know them; even the man who shewed us
the hall, who actually keeps the door thro' which they enter and sees
them all constantly, assured me he did not know one from the other. He
did not even know whether Marmont[60] had one arm or two.
LETTER VI.
PARIS, _July 11th_.
Thanks to our Landlord, and not to Sir Charles Stuart, we have just been
elbowing the Marshals, as a serjeant of the National Guard offered to
take us into the Thuilleries, and in we went with him in full uniform,
on the very best day we could have selected since our arrival in Paris,
as a corps of about 10 or 15,000 men were to be reviewed by the King "en
masse" in the Place de Carousel, immediately in front of the
Thuilleries.
We were stationed in a room of which I had heard much and wished above
all things to see--"la Salle des Maréchaux," so called from the
full-length portraits of 18 of these gentlemen with which it is hung;
the upper part of the room is surrounded by a gallery decorated with
pictures of the chief battles--Lodi, Passage of the Po, and one sea
piece descriptive of the capture of our Frigate, the _Ambuscade_, by a
smaller vessel. It is so good a picture that for the sake of the
painting I never thought of lamenting the subject.
After standing in this Hall for a few minutes in the midst of Generals
without number in full uniform, I had the satisfaction of being almost
knocked over by Marshal Jourdan,[61] a sharp, queer-looking fellow not
at all stamped with the features of a hero. I eyed him well, and had
scarcely satiated my curiosity when half a dozen more came by, walking
about without peculiar honors or attention, and only to be distinguished
from the Generals by a broad red ribbon, worn like those of our Knights
of the Bath.
I looked at each and all, but as few could tell their names I was at a
loss to distinguish one from another; my head and eyes were in a perfect
fidget, flying from Marshal to Marshal and from Picture to Picture.
Of the Ducs de Treviso,[62] de Conegliano,[63] Serurier,[64] and
Perignan[65] I had no doubt, as I saw them again several times, but I am
not sure that I should know the others except from a recollection of
their pictures.
I will describe a few while their countenances are fresh upon my memory.
Ney[66] is a fine, handsome man, but remarkably fair with light curling
hair, and struck us very like Mrs. Parker, of Astle.
Duc d'Istria[67] was reckoned by Robert Hibbert like me--that is to say,
he had dark arched eyebrows, a fox-like sort of countenance, very dark,
almost swarthy, and from his extreme bilious appearance, I should
imagine might be troubled, like myself, with bad headaches.
Davoust![68] I can scarcely recall his portrait without shuddering. If
ever an evil spirit peeped thro' the visage of a human being, it was in
Davoust. Every bad passion seemed to have set its mark on his face:
nothing grand, warlike, or dignified. It was all dark, cruel, cunning,
and malevolent. His body, too, seemed to partake of his character. I
should fancy he was rather deformed. I never saw so good a Richard III.
Let him pass and make way for one of a different description,
Victor,[69] a fine, open, gentlemanly countenance, tho' not like a
military hero. Marmont, a dark haired, sharp-looking man of military
stature. Duc de Dantzig,[70] very ugly and squinting. Berthier,[71]
remarkably quiet and intelligent. Murat,[72] an effeminate coxcomb with
no characteristic but that of self-satisfaction. Moncey, a respectable
veteran. Massèna,[73] the most military of all, dark hair and
countenance, fine figure. Soult,[74] a stern soldier, vulgar but
energetic; his mouth and lower part of his face like Edridge,[75] though
not so large a man.
The King was to me a very secondary person; however, I was close to him
as he tottered, like a good old well-meaning man, to Mass. On his return
he appeared, as I described last Sunday, in the balcony facing the
gardens for a few minutes and was loudly cheered, and then he came back
to the Salle des Maréchaux and sat down in a fine chair of Bonaparte's,
covered all over with his Bees, in a Balcony facing the Place de
Carousel, from whence he looked down on the 10,000 troops who were there
assembled. The shouts here were not what they ought to have been.
Comparatively few cried "God bless him!" and I much fear the number who
thought it was still less. The Duc de Berri,[76] on horseback with
Marshal Moncey on one side and Du Pont[77] on the other, reviewed the
troops, who passed in companies and troops before them. As each company
passed the officer held up his sword and cried "Vive le Roi!" and some
of the soldiers did the same, but not more than one out of ten.
I heard an anecdote of the Duc de Berri which is, I hope, true. A few
days ago in reviewing some troops on the Champs Elysées an officer in
passing chose to cry out, "Vive Napoléon!" upon which the Duc rode up
to him, tore his Epaulette from his shoulder and order from his breast,
threw them on the ground, and instantly dismissed him the service; this
spirit pleased the soldiers, and they all shouted "Vive le Roi!"
On Saturday we went to St. Cloud, Versailles, and the great and little
Trianon. St. Cloud and the great Trianon were the especial residences of
Buonaparte, and I looked at his bed and tables and chairs with some
curiosity. I have not time to describe all these. I saw one public place
yesterday which should be mentioned, a museum of models in every
department of art and science, with all the machines, &c., connected
with them. I would willingly conclude my observations on Paris with some
remarks on its manners, principles, &c., and I would begin with Religion
first if I could, but the fact is there appears to be none. If any does
exist it must approximate to Mysticism and lie concealed in the recesses
of the heart, for truly "the right hand knoweth not what the left hand
doeth." But with all this non-appearance I should be cautious in passing
too severe a censure. It must be remembered that the nation is military,
that from the earliest years they "sing of arms," and Buonaparte carried
this to such a degree that even children not much older than Owen[78]
are to be seen in full Uniforms. He wished to incorporate the two terms
of man and soldier. We laughed, you remember, at the account of the
little King of Rome appearing in Uniform; in Paris this would not appear
ridiculous. He had uniforms of all the favourite regiments horse and
foot....
[Illustration: PARISIAN AMUSEMENTS.
_to face p. 141._]
But yet there appears to be less vice than in England, I should rather
say less organised vice; I have not heard of a single Robbery, public or
private--I walk without fear of pickpockets; I should be inclined to say
they seemed rather against themselves than against each other. Their
principles may be more relaxed on some points than ours, but I doubt
much whether a Frenchman would not be as much disgusted in England as an
Englishman could possibly be in France; we call them a profligate race
and condemn them in toto--something like Hudibras' John Bull--
"Compounds for sin he is inclined to
By damning those he has no mind to."
Their public walks and Theatres are less offensive to decency than ours.
Drunkenness is scarcely known; at first sight I should pronounce them an
idle, indolent people; the streets are almost always full; the gardens,
public walks, &c., swarm at all hours with saunterers. According to my
ideas a Frenchman's life must be wretched, for he does not seem at all
to enter into the charms of home--their houses are not calculated for
it; they huddle together in nooks and corners, and the male part
(judging from the multitudes I daily see) leave the women and children
to get through the day as they can.
Their coffee-houses are some of them quite extraordinary; most of them
are ornamented with Mirrors in abundance, but some shine with more
splendour. In the Palais Royal there is one called "Le Café de mille
Colonnes," which merits some description. It consists of three or four
rooms--the largest is almost one mass of plate-glass Mirrors, beautiful
clocks at each end, and magnificent chandeliers; behind a raised Table
of most superb structure, composed of slabs of marble and plate-glass,
sat a lady dressed in the richest manner, Diamonds on head and hand,
Lace, Muslin, &c. This is the Landlady; by her a little boy, about 4
years old, stood in charge of a drawer from whence the small change was
issued; this, if it happened to be copper, was delicately touched by the
fair hand, which was immediately washed in a glass of water as if
contaminated by the vulgar metal. She never spoke to the waiters, but
rung a golden bell; her inkstands, flower jars--in short, every article
on the table was of the same metal or of silver gilt. The tables for the
company were fine marble slabs; the room was from the reflection of all
the mirrors, as you may suppose, a perfect blaze of light, and yet
altogether the place looked dirty, from the undress and shabby coats of
the company. The French never dress for the evening unless going out to
parties, and they always look dirty and unlike gentlemen; the former is
not the case, in fact for they are constantly washing and bathing. An
hour or two before I was in this extraordinary coffee-house I had
traversed a spot as opposite to it as could well be--the Catacombs!--a
range of vaults nearly half a mile long, about 80 feet under ground, in
which are deposited all the bones from all the cemeteries in Paris. I
suppose we were in company with some millions of skeletons, whose skulls
are so arranged as to form regular patterns, and here and there was an
altar made of bones fancifully piled up, on the sides an inscription in
Latin, French, &c. Behind one wall the bodies of all who perished in the
massacres in Paris were immured. They were brought in carts at night and
thrown in, and there they rest, festering not in their shrouds but in
clothes. Such a mass of corrupt flesh would soon have infested all the
vaults, so they were bricked up.
[Illustration: Catacombs Paris, July 8, 1814]
I wish to recommend our hotel to any people you may hear of coming to
Paris--Hôtel des Estrangers, Rue du Hazard, kept by Mr. Meriel. Its
situation is both quiet and convenient; it is really not five minutes'
walk from the leading objects of Paris, and the people have been civil
to us beyond measure.
CHAPTER IV
ON THE TRACK OF NAPOLEON'S ARMY
The Ex-Imperial Guard--Anecdotes of the last days at
Fontainebleau--Invalided Cossacks--"Trahison"--Ruin and
desolation--Roast dog--An English soldier--A Trappist veteran--Jack
boots--Polytechnic cadets--A Russian officer--Cossacks, Kalmucks,
and sparrows--Prussians and British lions--Rhine Castles--Rival
inscriptions--Diligence atmosphere--Brisemaison--Sociable English.
On leaving Paris, Edward Stanley planned to follow the traces of the
desperate campaign which Napoleon had fought in the early months of that
year (1814) against the Allies, and in which he so nearly succeeded in
saving his crown for a time.
As, however, the English travellers did not intend to return again to
Paris, they reversed Napoleon's line of march and started to
Fontainebleau by the road along which the Emperor rode back in hot haste
on the night of March 30th, to take up the command of the force which
should have been defending his capital, and where the sight of Mortier's
flying troops convinced him that all hope was at an end.
When they had visited Fontainebleau, where the final abdication had
taken place on April 11th, they turned north-east to Melun and posted on
through towns which had been the scenes of some of the most desperate
fighting in that wonderful campaign, when Napoleon had seemed to be
everywhere at once, dealing blows right and left against the three
armies which, in the beginning of January, had advanced to threaten his
Empire--Bülow in the north, Blücher on the east, and Schwarzenberg on
the south.
They passed through Guignes and Meaux, by which Napoleon's army had
marched after his victory over Blücher at Vauchamps on February 14th, in
the rapid movement to reinforce Marshal Victor, and to drive back
Schwarzenberg from the Seine.
Through Château Thierry, where on the 12th of February the Emperor and
Marshal Mortier had pursued Russians and Prussians from street to street
till they were driven over the Marne, and whence the French leader
dashed after Blücher to Vauchamps.
Through Soissons, which the Russians under Winzengerode had bombarded on
March 3rd, and forced to surrender, whereby Blücher and Bülow were
enabled to join hands.
Through Laon, where Blücher retreated after Craonne, and where he
finally shattered Marmont's forces in a night attack.
By Berry au Bac, where the Emperor crossed the Aisne on his way to fight
Blücher at Craonne, the scene on March 7th of one of the bloodiest
battles of the war.
On to Rheims where, after Marmont's disaster at Laon, Napoleon beat the
Russians just before he was forced to rush southwards again to contend
with Schwarzenberg and his Austrians.
Finally they reached Châlons, which had been Napoleon's starting-point
for the whole campaign, and where he had arrived in the closing days of
January after having taken his last farewell of Marie Louise and of the
King of Rome.
After Châlons they turned eastwards, following the line of fortresses
for which Napoleon had staked and lost his crown, and reached the Rhine
by Verdun, Metz, and Mayence; thence to Aix-la-Chapelle, Lille, and
Brussels, which had by the Treaty of Paris, in May, been ceded with the
whole of Belgium to the Netherlands.
_Edward Stanley to his Wife._
MELUN, _July 14th_.
We quitted our Hotel yesterday morning at six for Fontainebleau.
There is nothing particularly interesting about the road, which is
almost an incessant avenue. About half-way we passed a fine Château of
Marshal Jourdan's.
The forest of Fontainebleau commences about four miles from the town and
extends some nine or ten miles in all directions. At first I was in
hopes of being gratified with the sight of fine woods, but, with the
exception of a few patches of good oaks, the remainder is little better
than underwood and dwarflings.
We went into the heart of the forest to see an old Hermitage now
inhabited by a keeper and his family. They had been visited by Cossacks,
but had received no injury whatever; on the contrary the poor woman
related with all the eloquence of Truth and the French animation that
from their own soldiers they had suffered all that cruelty and rapacity
could devise--indeed, the house and gardens bore evidence to the
facts--window shutters pierced with bullets, broken doors, furniture
gone, and above 800 francs' worth of honey destroyed out of pure
wantonness--in short the poor people seemed quite ruined. I received a
similar account in the town. Fontainebleau is a dull, melancholy-looking
place, with a very extensive ugly palace--interesting only from the late
events. Scarcely a soul appeared about; we crossed the large court in
which Buonaparte took his last farewell and embraced the Imperial
Eagles, called by some loyal French "The vile Cuckoos." Our hostess was,
I presume, a staunch imperialist, who thought she could not shew her
zeal for the Emperor in a stronger manner than by imposing on
Englishmen. She began by asking 16s. for a plate of 8 little wretched
mutton chops; we resented the imposition, although the sudden appearance
of 4 or 5 officers of the imperial guard almost rendered it doubtful
whether we ought to act too warmly on the defensive, as they seemed to
patronise our hostess; however, we refused to pay and retired unimposed
upon.
The imperial guard here are supposed to be particularly attached to the
Emperor, and of course averse to Englishmen, but I was agreeably
surprised to find three out of the four really something like gentlemen
in their manners; we entered into conversation, which I managed as
dexterously as I could, manoeuvering between the evil of sacrificing my
own opinions on one side, and of giving them offence on the other; it
was a nice point, as I perceived a word beyond the line of demarcation
would have inflamed them in a trice. One happened to differ with another
on a political point, which produced a loud and rapid stamping with the
feet, accompanied by a course of pirouets on the heel with the velocity
of a dervish, which fully proved what might be effected on their tempers
had I been disposed to try the experiment. They called themselves the
Ex-Imperial Guard. On retiring I shook hands with them, and with as low
a bow as the little King of Rome, said "Messieurs les Gardes d'Honneur,
Je vous salue." ...
LETTER VII.
_Monday, July 19th._
...The history of Buonaparte immediately preceding, and subsequent to
the surrender of Paris, was never actually known--I will give it you.
The capitulation took place on the 30th (March). In the evening of that
day he arrived at Fontainebleau without his army. Rumours of fighting
near Paris had reached him. He almost immediately set off with Berthier
in his carriage for Paris, and actually arrived at Villejuif, only 6
miles from the capital; when he heard the result he turned about and
appeared again at Fontainebleau at 9 the next morning. When he alighted,
the person who handed him out, a sort of head-porter of the Palace, who
was our guide, told me he looked "triste, bien triste"; he spoke to
nobody, went upstairs as fast as he could, and then called for his plans
and maps; his occupation during the whole time he staid consisted in
writing and looking over papers, but to what this writing and these
papers related the world may feel but will never know; his spirits were
by no means broken down; in a day or two he was pretty much as usual,
and it is said he signed the Abdication without the least apparent
emotion. We heard he was mad, but I can assure you from undoubted
authority that he was perfectly well in mind and body the whole time,
and, notwithstanding his excessive fatigues, as corpulent as ever;
indeed, said our guide, "War seems to agree with him better than with
any man I ever knew." Buonaparte laid out immense sums in furnishing and
beautifying the Palais here. I got into his library, the snuggest room
you ever saw, immediately below a little study in which he always sat
and settled his affairs; his arm-chair was a very comfortable, honest,
plain arm-chair, but I looked in vain for all the gashes and notches
which it was said he was wont to inflict upon it. I could not perceive
a scratch, he was too busily employed in that said chair in forming
plans for cutting up Europe; within three yards of his table was a
little door, or rather trap door, by which you descended down the oddest
spiral staircase you ever beheld into the Library, which was low and
small; the books were few of them new, almost all standard works upon
history--at least I am sure 4 out of 5 were historical--all of his own
selection, and each stamped, as in fact was everything else from high to
low, far and wide, with his N., or his Bees or his Eagle--all of which
Louis XVIII is as busily employed in effacing, which alone will give him
ample employment: but to return to the books. Amongst the rest I
found--Shakespeare ... and a whole range of Ecclesiastical History,
which, if ever read, might account in some degree for his shutting up
the Pope as the existing representative of the animals who have
occasioned half the feuds and divisions therein recorded. There was a
Chapel, which he regularly attended on Sundays and Saints' days. His
State bed was a sort of State business, very uncomfortable, consisting
of 5 or 6 mattresses under a royal canopy with 2 Satin Pillows at each
end.
During his residence he never st
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