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First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent

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Title: First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent

Author: Marianne Baillie


        
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                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIRST IMPRESSIONS ON A TOUR UPON THE CONTINENT ***

[Illustration: _London, Published by I. Murray, 1819_
SWISS COTTAGE.]




    FIRST IMPRESSIONS
    ON
    A TOUR UPON THE CONTINENT
    IN THE SUMMER OF 1818,
    THROUGH PARTS OF
    FRANCE, ITALY, SWITZERLAND,
    THE BORDERS OF GERMANY,
    AND A PART OF
    _FRENCH FLANDERS_.

    BY MARIANNE BAILLIE.

    LONDON:
    JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET.
    1819.




    LONDON:
    PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS.




    TO
    ONE OF THE MOST VALUED FRIENDS OF HER EARLIEST YEARS,
    THE RIGHT HON. JOHN TREVOR,
    THE AUTHOR
    INSCRIBES THE
    FOLLOWING LITTLE WORK,
    WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF AFFECTIONATE RESPECT
    AND ESTEEM.




DIRECTIONS TO THE BINDER.


    Swiss Cottage              to face the title.
    View of Turin                             164
    Passage of the Simplon                    212
    Colossal Figure                           218
    Hermitage of St. Frêne                    312




PREFACE


In perusing the following pages, it will I hope be believed, that they
were not originally written with any view to publication: circumstances
have since occurred, which induce me to alter my first intention, and to
submit them to a more enlarged circle, than that of a few intimate
friends, to whose eye alone I had once thought of presenting them.

In committing my First Impressions to so fearful an ordeal as the
opinion of the Public, I feel oppressed by a sense of their various
imperfections, and by the conviction of their trifling value as a work
of the sort; yet I still flatter myself they will be received with
forbearance. I had much amusement in attempting this little sketch, and
I most sincerely entreat that it may be considered as what it is, a
sketch only. My friends will not, and readers in general must not, look
for fine writing from the pen of such a novice as myself; nor ought they
to expect me (labouring under the twofold disadvantage of sex and
inexperience) to narrate with the accuracy and precision of a regular
tourist, the history (natural, moral, political, literary and
commercial) of all the places we visited: still less, that (in
compliment to the lovers of the gastronomic art) I should undertake to
give the bill of fare of every _table d'hôte_ or _traiteur_ that we met
with in our progress.

Among the many fears which assail me, there is one that recurs to my
mind with more pertinacity than the rest: that I may be taxed with
having bestowed too warm and glowing a colouring upon some objects of
natural beauty and sublimity. Formerly, indeed, I believe I was in
danger of leaning towards romance in describing scenes which had
particularly impressed my imagination or interested my feelings, and of
attempting to imitate, with too rash and unadvised a pencil, the fervour
of a Mrs. Radcliffe, although to catch the peculiar charm and spirit of
her style I felt to be (for me) impossible. But notwithstanding that I
still remember with complacence the time when the vivid imagination of
very early youth procured me the enjoyment of a thousand bright and
lovely illusions, and cast a sort of fairy splendour over existence
which was certainly more bewitching than many realities that I have
since met with, I at present feel (as better becomes me) more inclined
to worship at the sober shrine of reason and judgment. This, it will be
easily conceived, was likely to render my Tour a more faithful picture,
than if it had been undertaken some years ago, and I can safely affirm,
that I commenced it with a determination to observe all things without
prejudice of any sort, not even that of nationality; for prejudice is
still the same irrational and unworthy feeling, in every shape and under
every name. I was much hurried at the time of writing this Journal; but
a greater degree of subsequent leisure has enabled me to add some few
notes which may, I hope, amuse and interest my readers. In these I
acknowledge with gratitude the occasional assistance of a partial
friend.

_April, 1819._




FIRST IMPRESSIONS.


On Monday, August 9th, we embarked from the Ship inn at Dover, for
Calais, on board the Princess Augusta packet. The passage was dreadful,
the usual miseries attended us, and at the time I am now writing this,
viz. August 13th, we are still suffering from the effects of our voyage.
I will not make my readers ill by recalling the disgusting scenes which
we there encountered, suffice it to say, that the bare remembrance of
them is sufficient to overwhelm my still sick fancy, and to render the
very name of the sea appalling to my ears. Upon landing at Calais,
however, we contrived to raise our heavy eyes, with a lively feeling of
curiosity and interest, to the motley crowd assembled on the beach to
view us come on shore. I was pleased with what we are taught to call
the habitual politeness of even the lowest order of French people,
evinced in the alacrity with which twenty hands were held out to support
me in descending from the packet, and in the commiseration which I
plainly discovered in many a sun-burnt countenance for my evident
indisposition. The hotel (Quillacq's) is excellent, and the attendants
remarkably civil and active. The style of furniture is superior to that
of the best English hotels; and for a dinner and dessert of the most
superior quality, we did not pay more than we should have done at an
ordinary inn in our own country for very common fare. The dress of the
lower classes here is rather pretty; the circumstance of the women
wearing caps, neatly plaited, and tolerably clean, together with the
body and petticoat of different colours, gives them a picturesque air:
the long gold ear-rings, also (universally worn at this place,
consisting of two drops, one suspended at the end of the other),
contribute greatly to their graceful effect. The men do not differ much
in their appearance from those of the same rank in England, but I think
the animation universally displayed in the countenances of the fairer
sex particularly striking, and certainly preferable to that want of
expression so often to be found among my countrywomen.

When we first started from Calais for Paris, with post-horses, I could
not help a little national feeling of complacency upon observing the
slovenly, shabby appearance of their harness and accoutrements, compared
with those of England. From London to Dover, we had bowled away with
ease and rapidity; the carriage seemed to cut through the air with a
swift and even motion. Now we crawled and jumbled along, as it pleased
the fancy of the horses and driver, upon the latter of which no
remonstrance of ours would have had any effect. The costume of the
post-boy (who drives three horses abreast, a fat, full-sized beast in
the middle, his own rather smaller, and the off horse always a ragged
flap-eared pony, looking as if he had just been caught up from a common)
is whimsical enough; it is universally the royal livery: a shabby,
dirty, short-waisted blue jacket, turned up with crimson, and laced
sometimes with silver; boots resembling those of our heavy cavalry, and
a thick clubbed pigtail, swinging like a pendulum from beneath a rusty
japan hat. It was not till we had reached the distance of Abbeville that
we met with the celebrated genuine _grosses bottes_, whose enormous size
put me in mind of my nursery days, when I used to listen to the
wonderous tale of the giant-killer and his seven-leagued boots. The lash
of the post-boy's whip is thick and knotted, and they have a curious
method of cracking it upon passing other carriages, to give notice of
their approach: this saves their lungs, and has not an unpleasant
effect, the cracking sound being of a peculiar nature, double, as if it
said "crac-crac" at each stroke. It is not every post-boy, however, who
manages this little implement in the true style. They all carry the
badge of their profession upon the left arm (like our watermen), being a
silver or metal plate with the arms of France upon it. From Calais to
Haut-buisson the country is extremely flat, barren and uninteresting,
like the ugliest parts of Wiltshire and Sussex; and the straight line in
which all the French roads are cut is tiresome and monotonous to a great
degree. The case is not mended even when you advance as far as Marquise,
and I began to yawn in melancholy anticipation of a similar prospect for
nearly a hundred and eighty miles, which yet remained to be passed ere
we reached Paris; but upon coming near Beaupres, we were agreeably
disappointed, finding the surface of the country more undulated, and
patches of woodlands thinly strewn here and there--it is amazing how
greatly the eye is relieved by this change. The hamlets between
Haut-buisson and Boulogne much resemble those in the west of England; we
were perpetually fancying ourselves in a Somersetshire village as we
passed through them. On the road-side it is very common to see large
crucifixes, raised to a considerable height, with the figure of our
Saviour the size of life. We remarked one in particular, painted black,
and the image flesh-colour, with the drapery about the middle gilt;
another was inclosed in a small railed space (like a village pound),
surrounded by four or five clumsy stone images, which I rather imagine
were meant to represent the holy women who assembled round the cross
during our Saviour's last moments. As we approached Boulogne, we met
several old peasants: they all wore cocked hats, and a suit of decent,
_sad-coloured_ clothes, not unlike the dress of our villagers on a
Sunday.

The entrance to Boulogne is very picturesque: the fortifications are
crumbling a little beneath the touch of time, and the walls are partly
overgrown by trees and lichens; but a very little exertion would render
it formidable enough, I imagine, to besiegers. We dined here at an inn,
where they thought they could not do us a greater favour than by sending
up a meal in what they believed to be the English style of cookery;
consequently it was neither one thing nor the other, and extremely
disagreeable: amongst various delicacies, we had melted salt butter
swimming in oil, and quite rancid, brought to table in a tea-cup, and a
large dish of tough spongy lumps of veal, which they called veal
cutlets. As I sat at the window, which opened upon the principal street,
I had an opportunity of remarking a specimen of true French flattery,
but I was not quite so pervious to its benign influence as Sterne
describes his ladies to have been in the Sentimental Journey. A little
ragged urchin of about ten years old rather annoyed me, by jumping up
and grinning repeatedly in my face: "Allez, allez, que faites vous là?"
said I. "C'est que je veux dire bon jour à Madame!"--"Eh, bien donc,
vous l'avez dit à present--allez!"--"Ah! mais que Madame est jolie! Mon
Dieu! elle est _very prit_. Elle me donnera un sous, n'est ce pas?"

It was at Poix that we accidentally met a woman of Normandy upon the
road. She was well looking, and the costume both singular and becoming:
the snow white cap with a deep plaited border, and a crown half a yard
in height, fastened on the forehead by a gold pin, the long drop
ear-rings and gold cross in a heavy worked setting, suspended round the
throat by a narrow black riband, white handkerchief crossed over the
bosom, and a body and petticoat of opposite colours, with full white
shift sleeves coming over the elbows, formed a remarkably pretty dress.

I ought to have mentioned before now, that on the road between Marquise
and Beaupres we were amused by observing an unfinished tower, erected by
Bonaparte some years since, designed to commemorate his intended victory
over the English, by invasion--a true _chateau en Espagne_. Wishing to
refresh ourselves by leaving the carriage while the horses were changed,
I entered a sort of rustic public-house, where I observed with much
interest the interior of a French cottage kitchen and its inhabitants. A
group of peasants sat round a wood fire, apparently waiting for their
dinner, which, as a brisk lively _paysanne_ took it off the embers to
pour into a dish, looked and smelt most temptingly; it consisted of a
mess of bread, herbs, and vegetables, stewed in broth: there was a
member of this little circle who seemed to watch the progress of the
cooking with peculiar delight; I mean a large, powerful, yet playful
dog, whose exact breed we did not discover, but we were informed he was
English--doubtless he recognized his countrymen! The plates and dishes,
utensils, &c. were ranged upon shelves from the top to the bottom of the
little kitchen, and equally distributed on all sides, instead of being
confined to the vicinity of the dresser, as is generally the case in
England; they were chiefly of a coarse white clay, painted in a gaudy
and sprawling pattern of red flowers: the old woman of the house
apologized for their not being quite so bright as they ought to have
been, but said the flies dirtied them sadly; however, every thing looked
clean and comfortable. The costume of the men is not becoming; they all
wear white coarse cotton night-caps, and smock-frocks dyed with indigo;
their features and countenances much resemble those of a similar rank in
England. It appears to me that the old peasants alone wear the cocked
hat in this part of France: perhaps it is a remnant of the national
dress in the time of the _ancien regime_. The young children, from one
to five or six years of age, are (generally speaking) very pretty, and
some of them have the drollest little faces I ever saw, dark eyes and
marked eyebrows and lashes, full of smiles and roguery; their hair is
always allowed to hang at full length upon their shoulders, never being
shorn and cropt. Having dined at Boulogne, we proceeded on our journey
as far as Samer, intending to sleep the first night at Montreuil; but a
direct stop was put to any such project, by the circumstance of a total
absence of post-horses; they were all too much fatigued to carry us
farther, or were employed in the service of other travellers. Evening
was now closing rapidly in, and we were really glad to comply with the
urgent solicitations of a rural _fille de chambre_, who ran out of the
little inn at that place (Samer), and assured us we should meet with
very comfortable accommodations and be treated with every attention at
the Tête de Boeuf, to which she belonged: "Ma foi, messieurs," said
the postilion, "vous trouverez que cette demoiselle est bien
engageante." When we entered the house (through the kitchen, which much
resembled that of a large cottage), we found a neat little parlour, the
water ready boiling in the tea-kettle, excellent tea, bread, butter, and
cream. The _demoiselle_ or _fille de la maison_ (being the daughter of
the hostess), and her assistant (the before-mentioned _fille de
chambre_, in her country costume), flew about, seeming to anticipate all
our wishes and wants; every thing was ready in an instant, and all was
done, not by the wand of an enchanter, but by the magical influence of
good humour and activity, void of pertness, and free from bustle or
awkwardness of any sort. _La jeune demoiselle_ was a pretty, modest,
well-behaved girl, of sixteen or seventeen, and the maid a merry,
good-looking, sprightly lass, some few years older. She appeared to
enjoy a joke to her heart, and returned a neat answer to our laughing
questions more than once, and this without being at all immodest or
impertinent. Mr. B. asked her if she was married: "Pas encore,
Monsieur," (said she, looking comically _naïve_), "mais j'espère
toujours!" In short, her manner was something quite peculiar to the
French in that class of society. An English maid servant who had kept
up this sort of badinage would most probably have been a girl of light
character; but servants in France are indulged in a playful familiarity
of speech and manner which is amusing to witness, and seldom (if ever)
prevents them from treating you with every essential respect and
attention. When we started the next morning, the demoiselle earnestly
entreated us to breakfast at the Hotel de l'Europe, at Montreuil, which
was kept by her sister, a young woman only two years older than herself,
who was just married; and both she and her little maid added many a
remembrance upon their parts to _la chere soeur_. Whether this was
genuine sisterly affection, or the policy of two innkeepers playing into
each other's hands, I really cannot take upon me to determine.

The country between Samer and Montreuil becomes far more agreeable than
hitherto; one here sees hills and vales, and waving woods: we passed the
forest of Tingri, but did not remark any large trees; they were chiefly
of beech, with a great profusion of low underwood. We met many waggons
and carts upon the road which are all very different from those used in
England, being much narrower, and lighter for the horses: they are
usually open at the ends, and the sides resemble two long ladders. The
wheat harvest in this part of the country was remarkably fine; oats were
plentifully planted, but the crops were thin; the hay, clover, &c. were
scarce also, and of inferior quality, owing to the long drought. We
observed the women reaping quite as much as the men, and their
complexions, poor creatures! were absolutely baked black by the sun. The
road now led us though the heart of the forest of Aregnes: it is of
large extent, but we observed the same want of fine timber as in that of
Tingri; the reason of this is, that the trees are always cut down before
they attain their full growth, for the purpose of fuel, as wood fires
are universal in France. We admired, however, several "dingles green,"
and "tangled wood walks wild," which looked very cool and inviting, but
I remembered with pride the "giant oaks and twilight glades beneath" of
our own New Forest, and this coppice made but a trifling appearance in
the comparison. Emerging once more from hence upon the open country, we
beheld in the distance a troop of English dragoons (probably from
Boulogne) exercising their horses. What a singular spectacle in the
midst of a people who so lately ruled the world, but who now are
trampled beneath the feet of the stranger! The sight of the English,
thus proudly paramount, must necessarily be revolting and galling to
them in the highest degree: we should feel quite as bitterly, were it
our own fate--more so, perhaps. Let us therefore be just, and make
allowance for their natural disgust, while we condemn the vanity and mad
ambition which has thus reduced them.

The approach to Montreuil is pretty; the character of the landscape
changes, in a sudden and agreeable manner: in place of an uninclosed
tract of land, resembling a vast ocean of waving corn, you now see
verdant meadows and green pastures, refreshing the tired eye, and
wearing the livery of early spring; this effect is produced by the
fields lying low, and by the practice of irrigation, which is an
admirable substitute for rain.

Montreuil is a fortified town; we passed over drawbridges upon entering
and leaving it: the houses are all very ancient, and the whole
appearance is picturesque. Here we had a mental struggle between
sentiment and good nature, for we wished to breakfast at the same inn
where Sterne met with La Fleur, and yet were unwilling to disappoint the
hopes of our little demoiselle at Samer, who had recommended her
sister's hotel. Good nature carried the day, and we drove to l'Hotel de
l'Europe, where we met with most comfortable accommodation, and were
pleased by the young hostess's resemblance to her pretty sister, and by
her civil, lively manner of receiving us. She sat during our breakfast
in a neighbouring apartment, by the kitchen (like the mistress of the
mansion in times of yore), working at her needle, surrounded by her
hand-maidens, who were occupied in the same employment. They all seemed
to be fond of her, and the light laugh of genuine hilarity rang from one
to the other as they chatted at their ease. The room in which we
breakfasted had (in common with most of the French apartments, which are
not paved with brick), a handsome oak floor, waxed and dry rubbed till
it was nearly as highly polished as a dining-table; the walls were
wainscoted in part, and partly hung with a very amusing paper, having
groups of really superior figures stamped upon it, in the manner of
black and white chalk drawings upon a blue ground; one space, which had
been intended for a looking-glass, was filled up in this style, with a
scene from the loves of Cupid and Psyche, executed in a classical
manner. You would never see such a thing in any English country inn, and
I consider the French in these sort of decorations to possess far better
taste than ourselves. As we passed through the cornfields on our way
from Montreuil to Nampont, we were saluted by the _ramasseurs_
(gleaners), with a bouquet or two, formed of wheat, platted in a neat
and ingenious way, which they threw into the carriage, begging a sous in
return, which we bestowed with much good will! Some children also began
to sing and dance on the pathway by the road side, and I was surprised
by observing that the tune was that of a quadrille, and that the steps
were correct. I plainly recognized the _en avant_ and the _rigadon_. Did
this nation come into the world under the influence of a dancing star? I
should say yes.

When the horses were changed at Nampont we disturbed the postillion at
his dinner, who made his appearance devouring an indescribable
something, which we afterwards discovered to be an _omelette aux
herbes_: he deposited this occasionally on the saddle, while adjusting
his harness.

The ricks of corn and hay here are constructed rather in a slovenly
manner: the French farmers seem to have no idea of the neat method of
the English, in this respect.

The road now led us by the celebrated Forest of Crecy, and the image of
our gallant Black Prince rose vividly before my mind's eye. At Bernay we
entered another peasant's cottage, where we (for the first time since
our landing in this country) beheld real and positive beauty. Two
lovely girls with clear brown skins (through which glowed a pure and
animated carnation), long, dark blue eyes, black fringed lashes, and
oval faces, came out with their mother, (a hale, well-looking country
woman), and a younger sister of six years old, whose infantine charms
were full as great in their way. I asked if the latter was the _cadette_
of the family? Upon which the rural dame, with infinite good humour and
readiness, corrected what she termed my mistaken appellation, by
informing me that it was only the second child which they called the
_cadet_ or _cadette_[1]: the youngest was _le dernier_, or _la
derniere_. We had much pleasure in remarking this beautiful trio, and
the mother seemed not a little gratified at our evident admiration of
her progeny.


The face of the country here again changed for the worse, relapsing into
the same flat and monotonous appearance as at first, and it continued
thus until within a mile of Abbeville, which is a very fine old town,
with a cathedral dedicated to Saint Villefrond. The architecture is very
striking, and the interior replete with the usual ornaments of
superstition and idolatry: it was built by the English. My companions
visited it, while I was resting quietly at the hotel, and saw several
precious relics of saints departed. They found three very young devotees
there, before a _Salvator Mundi_, who were much too merry to be very
religious! I however met with quite an affecting spectacle when I went
in my turn. Two poor _paysannes_, in the usual picturesque costume, were
prostrate before the image of a dead Christ supported by the Virgin.
They were praying with an expression of much earnest and sorrowful
devotion: one of them had a sick child in her arms, for whom she
appeared to invoke the divine compassion: poor little thing, the
impression of approaching death was stamped upon its pale face, as it
lay motionless, hardly seeming to breathe. The group struck my
imagination so forcibly, that I afterwards attempted to sketch it from
memory. Surely this religion, with all its faults, is very consolatory;
and the faith and piety of these poor women must be confessed to be
respectable and praiseworthy, however mingled with the alloy of
superstition and ignorance: Calvin himself might have thought as I did,
had he seen them.

It was market-day at Abbeville the morning after our arrival, and we
were much amused with the various costumes and faces assembled there. We
did not, however, see one pretty woman during the whole of our stay,
which was two nights and a day. We went one evening to the theatre, and
observed the same dearth of beauty among the audience, which chiefly
consisted of _petites bourgeoises_, and officers of the national guards.
This theatre is a very inferior one, and full of bad smells. We were
assured by our hostess that the company (from Amiens) was very good, and
that the piece they were to act (_Les Templiers_) was thought highly of.
We all found it extremely difficult to follow the actors, owing to their
unnatural declamatory tones, and the mouthing manner of pronouncing
their words: this I believe, however, is universally the case, even
with the first tragedians at Paris, _Talma_ not excepted. How brightly
do nature's favourite children, _O'Neil_ and _Kean_, shine in
comparison!

The inn at Abbeville, in which we took up our quarters (l'hotel de
l'Europe), is most excellent: it is very large and roomy, and must once
have been a handsome chateau. There is a delightful garden, which
belonged formerly to a convent adjacent: the high walls covered with a
profusion of delicious fruit. The trees in other parts of the garden
also were bending beneath the weight of the apples and pears, plums, &c.
Myrtles and rododendrons (the latter very large and fine) were placed
here and there in tubs; and the fig-tree and vine overshadowed our
bed-room windows, which looked upon this agreeable scene: the grapes
were nearly ripe. The furniture of our bed-rooms was in a very superior
style, though I have seen the same sort of things even in the most
shabby looking little inns throughout France. Marble must be very
common, and of a reasonable price, for we met with it every where, in
chimney-pieces, slabs, tables, the tops of drawers, &c. The little
washing stand, in our room at Abbeville, was of fine carved mahogany, in
the form of an antique altar or tripod; and the bason and ewer, of an
equally pure and classic form, were of fine French porcelain.

As I have a great passion for seeing the manners of all ranks of people,
I went down into a little room next the kitchen, to chat with the
hostess, while she was shelling some _haricots blancs_ for dinner. I
found this lady very communicative and civil; and I won her heart I
believe, by taking some notice of her daughter, about six years old (her
farewell performance in the maternal line), a pretty, gentle, timid
little creature, who was busily occupied in putting her doll to bed in a
cradle. Several peasants came into the inn-yard as I sat on a bench
there: I observed that all the women wore large crosses, of clumsy
workmanship, chiefly of white crystal, or glass, and coloured ear-rings,
but not so long as those at Calais. We went into a little jeweller's
shop, and bought a couple of the silver rings, with curious ornaments,
which the peasants usually wear; their sentimental devices were very
amusing.

Leaving Abbeville, we saw the common people employed in making ropes by
the road-side, and remarked several large fields of hemp, and one or two
of flax: the hemp, when cut, is piled up in sheaves, like corn. The
country here is verdant, and rather woody: it lies low, and the river
Somme winds through it, whose course may be plainly traced to a great
distance by the willows which grow upon its banks, reminding me of parts
of Berkshire. I ought not to omit mentioning the profusion of
apple-trees which grow by the road-side, almost all the way to Paris:
the trees were absolutely sinking beneath the weight of the fruit, and
one or two of them had quite given way, and lay prostrate, training
their rosy burthen in the dust. I am almost ashamed to say that my
appetite was so much stronger than my honesty, that I could not be
satisfied without tasting them; when I discovered that these fair apples
were like those mentioned in the Scriptures, bright and tempting to the
eye, but bitter as ashes within! In short, they were not eatable, but
entirely of the cider kind, which, as every body knows, are good for
nothing in a natural state. There are quantities, however, of eating
apples besides, in every cottage garden; and the favourite food of the
peasant children appears to be coarse, brown, heavy bread, with these
roasted and spread upon it, instead of butter. We saw large piles of
roasted apples in the market at Abbeville for this purpose.

The country near Airaines again becomes tiresome, from its barren
sameness. Passing a little public house, we observed the following
somewhat selfish inscription over the door: "Messieurs! nous sommes
quatres hussards, et nous disons, que pour conservir nos amis, il ne
faut pas faire de credit." The weather was invariably delightful: a
bright sun, with a refreshing cool breeze, and an elasticity and
lightness in the air, gave animation and cheerfulness to us all. The sky
was generally of a cloudless azure, and the nights almost as light and
as free from damps as the days: I never beheld the moon in greater
majesty. Airaines is an uninteresting little town, not worth mentioning.
Our postillion here was a most ruffian-like, cut-throat looking
creature, all over dirt, and having a true jacobinical air. He cast
several glances full of sullenness and malignity at my companions; so
much so, that I felt very thankful we were in the cheerful haunts of
men, and not in the solitary Alps, or the black forests of Germany, with
such a conductor.

We dined at Granvilliers, where we were waited upon by a little girl of
thirteen, fair and lively enough, with an English bloom. She spoke our
language remarkably well, although she had only been six months _en
pension_ at Amiens, in order to acquire it! Her instructress was a
French woman, which is singular, for she seemed to have given her little
pupil a perfect knowledge of our idiom, and an excellent accent.

From Granvilliers to Marseille, the country rapidly improves in beauty.
Just beyond the latter place we remarked a very fine old chateau,
embosomed in extensive woods: it must formerly have belonged to some of
the rich noblesse, and perhaps does so still. Near Marseille, vineyards
appeared for the first time. We now approached the town of Beauvais,
which had a very pretty effect, surrounded by woods, with the cathedral
standing proudly conspicuous over all. It just now occurs to me to
mention (though not immediately _à-propos_ to Beauvais), that the
houses, in most of the French towns and villages we have yet seen, are
numbered, and in a singular method; for the several streets are not
allowed their numbers, separately reckoned, but they go on counting from
the first house in the place to the last, so that it sometimes happens
you might be directed to call upon a friend at number 1000, or 2000, and
so on. In Paris they have another peculiarity, for the even numbers,
such as 2, 4, 6, 8, &c. are all on one side of the street, and the odd
ones, 7, 9, 11, &c. on the other.

Beauvais is a filthy town; the streets narrow and dark, and the houses
very ordinary. The diversity of intolerable smells here nearly overset
me, and made me wish almost to lose the power of my olfactory nerves.
The inn was miserable, dirty, inconvenient, badly attended, and noisy.
The only good things we met with were beds; indeed we have been
fortunate in that respect every where, and the linen throughout France
is excellent and plentiful.

We had (with some difficulty) prevailed upon the awkward _Maritornes_ of
a _fille de chambre_ to set a tea-board before us in the little
chair-lumbered closet dignified by the name of a _salle a manger_, and
into which three or four doors were perpetually opened _sans ceremonie_,
when our Swiss travelling valet, Christian, came in to tell us of the
hard fate of an English family who were just arrived, and whose fatigue
obliged them to sleep here; but as the sitting-rooms were all occupied,
they were under the necessity of taking their tea in the kitchen, which
did not, alas! boast the cheerful and clean appearance of the cottage
kitchens I have formerly described. Common politeness, therefore, laid
us under the necessity of sending an invitation to these unfortunates,
to share our sitting-room, and join us at our tea. Accordingly, in came
two ladies; one a fat, comely, masculine dame, of a certain age; the
other lean, tall, plain, and some few years younger. In a few minutes
they were joined by a large, gruff, sour-looking old gentleman (the
husband of the elder lady), who, without attempting any salutation or
apology to us, began to express his dissatisfaction at finding tea going
forward, 'when you know (said he) I never drink any.' He then settled
himself at a small table, and ordered a _pâté_ for his supper. The style
of the ladies may easily be guessed by the sort of language in which
they described every thing they had seen. The younger, mentioning a
tempestuous passage which they had encountered, from Dover to Boulogne,
told us that the air smelt quite _sulphurus_, and the lightning _tizzed_
in the water very frightfully. The old gentleman grumbled himself by
degrees into conversation, and we soon discovered that he was a genuine
Squire Sullen, and that his companions were fully aware of it. These
poor people seemed to dislike almost all they had met with in France;
persons, places, travelling, &c. They beheld every thing _en noir_, and
appeared to make mountains of mole-hills. Peace be with them! and a
speedy release from each other's society.

We went (although the day was sinking into twilight) to view the
magnificent cathedral, which for beauty of architecture I have seldom
seen equalled. It is not finished. The different chapels of the saints,
and the high altar, were very striking, seen through the solemn gloom of
the fine old stained glass windows. Lights were burning before the
shrine of one single saint, the patron of the town; they twinkled dimly
through the Gothic pillars and tracery, and had a highly picturesque and
singular effect[2]. Many peasants were kneeling round the altar at this
shrine, and the old woman (our guide) informed us they were praying for
rain, now the harvest was got safely in: we asked her if she thought the
saint would grant their prayers, and she replied she had no doubt but
that he would. Prostrate on the steps of the altars, in the different
small chapels of this cathedral, half lost in shadow, were several other
devotees, who had come there for the purpose of confessing themselves
previous to the great and solemn festival of the _assomption de la
Sainte Vierge_, which was to take place on the morrow. Altogether the
spectacle was interesting and imposing, nor could I find any disposition
in my heart to ridicule a religion which seemed to be carried on with so
much sacred solemnity, and in so awe inspiring a temple. Certainly the
absence of pews in the body of a place of public worship is a great
advantage, both in a religious and a picturesque point of view. There is
something soothing and elevating to the imagination in the idea of so
grand a building being open equally, and at all times, to the noble and
the peasant, who, it might easily happen, may be seen side by side
kneeling on the same steps of the magnificent altar, wrapt in devout
adoration of that Being, in whose sight all men are equal. In my
opinion (and I have ever since I can remember thought the same) a Gothic
cathedral is the most appropriate style of building for a place
dedicated to the worship of the Almighty, nor can I look upon the
magnificent style in which the Roman catholics adorn their altars, and
array their officiating priests, without some feelings of approbation
and reverence.

We were right glad to quit Beauvais early the next morning; and, as we
advanced towards Beaumont, were delighted with the beauty of its
environs. The river Seine has a fine appearance here, although vastly
inferior to our Thames; and we remarked a great number of chateaus
rising among the woods, on every side: many of them, with their parks
and domains, were really superb. Some peasants here attempted to impose
upon us as foreigners, in a very disgusting manner, asking a franc for a
couple of greengages, and three sous a-piece for pears, which they
offered at the windows of our carriage. Our servant was very indignant
at their impudence, and sent them off in a hurry, saying, "Dey ought to
be shamed of demselves." Upon entering Beaumont, we met the population
of the place returning from mass, in their _costumes des fêtes_. Nothing
can well be more sweetly pretty, and delicately neat, than the dress of
the women! snowy caps, with deep lace or thin _linon_ borders plaited,
white cotton gowns and stockings, gay coloured cotton handkerchiefs
crossed smartly over the bosom so as to display the shape to advantage,
a large gold cross suspended from the neck by a black narrow riband, or
gold chain, with ear-rings, and pin for the forehead of the same
material. Some few wore a crimson apron and bib, over the white gown,
and others crimson gowns, with aprons of a bright antique sort of
blue--a mixture of colours which is for ever to be remarked in the
paintings of the old masters, and which has a singularly becoming effect
upon the skin. A little worked muslin _fischu_, with a vandyke
bordering, is sometimes added, as a finish to the dress, worn over all.

We now came to St. Denis, and at length beheld Paris! We did not pass
the heights of Montmartre, &c. without emotion, when we recollected the
memorable contest which so lately took place there between the veteran
Blucher and the French! The country in the immediate vicinity of Paris
is flat and ugly; but we thought not of nature upon entering this
celebrated work and wonder of art. Covered with dust, and followed by
the eyes of the multitude, who easily discovered our English
physiognomies, we drove up to several hotels, at every one of which we
were refused admittance for want of room to accommodate us, there being
at this moment no less than thirty thousand English at Paris. At last,
we were comfortably housed at the _hotel Rivoli_ (near the _jardins des
Tuileries_), one of the best in the city, where we found abundant
civility and attention, and every convenience.

Why should I attempt to describe Paris? It has already and so often been
done by abler pens than mine, that the very school girl in a country
town in England is perfectly acquainted with all its lions; I shall only
say, that we spent so short a time there, and I was so afraid of
exhausting my stock of strength, which was fully wanted for the journey
to Geneva, &c. that I did not even attempt to see every thing that might
have been seen.

The extreme height of the houses, and narrowness of the streets,
together with the inconceivable variety of horrible smells in all parts
of the town, and the want of pavements for pedestrians, made an
extremely unpleasant impression upon me. The gaiety and fancy displayed
in the signs over the shops (every one of which has an emblematic device
peculiar to itself) were very striking, however, as well as their
markets, where Pomona seemed to have lavished the choicest treasures of
her horn: indeed I never beheld such a profusion of exquisite fruits and
vegetables, the cheapness of which astonished us natives of a more
niggard clime not a little. The quantities of cooling and refreshing
beverages, sold in every corner of the streets, were also quite a novel
thing to us, as well as the circumstance of all the world sitting on
hired chairs out of doors, sipping lemonade, or eating ices.

I did not remark, I must confess, that appearance of excessive animation
and enjoyment, which I had been led to expect among the Parisians; on
the contrary, I saw full as many grave faces as in _notre triste pays_,
as they call it. The Palais Royal I thought a very amusing place; and
the fountain in the midst is most beautiful and refreshing, throwing up
a stream of water, which in its descent resembles a weeping willow. The
fountain of the Lions, also, is still superior, and I think them among
the most agreeable objects in Paris. The Boulevards are an airy,
cheerful situation, and the moving scene constantly going on there put
me in mind of a perpetual fair.

The gentlemen went to the Opera Françoise, where the splendour of the
ballet, and the superiority of the dancing, struck them with
astonishment and admiration. They visited Tivoli (which did not appear
to them to be so good a thing of the sort as our Vauxhall); and I went
one evening to the _Beaujon_, and _les Montaignes Russes_, in _les
Champs Elysées_. Both the latter, however, were shut; that is, no
sliding in the cars was going on, for there had been so many fatal
accidents lately, that the rage for this amusement was over. I did not
like _les Champs Elysées_ so well as our Kensington Gardens; the want of
turf was unpardonable in our English eyes. _La place de Louis XV._,
opposite the Tuileries, where the unfortunate Louis XVI. was executed,
is very superb in itself, as well as interesting from its melancholy
legends. I was rather disappointed in _les jardins des Tuileries_,
admiring the fine orange-trees in tubs there more than the gardens
themselves. We saw the remains of that horrible monument of cruelty,
injustice, and despotism, the Bastile; and drove past the entrance to
the celebrated _Jardin des plantes_, which we did not enter, as I had
already seen a very fine botanical collection at Kew, and a much
superior set of wild beasts at Exeter Change.

To the Louvre, however, even in its present state of diminished
splendour, no words of mine can do justice; its superb gallery far
exceeded even my expectations, which had been highly excited by all I
had ever heard upon the subject: to see the paintings properly, one
ought to go there every day for a week. We had only time particularly to
distinguish several landscapes of Claude Lorraine, beautiful beyond all
idea, and the set of historical pictures illustrative of the life of
_Henri quatre_, by Rubens: I was much struck with the fine countenance
and person of the gallant monarch. A Saint Sebastian also, by Guido,
rivetted my delighted attention. A friend of ours has painted an
exquisite miniature copy of it, with which I remember being greatly
struck in England, but it was not until I had seen the original that I
was fully aware of its extraordinary merit. The gallery itself is a most
magnificent thing; it really is quite a long fatiguing walk from one end
of it to the other; and the crowds of people of all ranks who are
constantly to be met with there render it altogether one of the most
curious and interesting spectacles in Europe.

I was much amused with the shops, particularly the confectioners; the
ingenious and endless devices into which they form their delicious bon
bons and dried fruits are really surprising, and we purchased specimens
of their different fancies, to astonish our English friends upon our
return home. The _vendeurs des tisannes_ (cooling beverages, something
like _eau de groseilles_, or lemonade), going about with their stock in
trade strapped to their backs like walking tea-urns, were curious
figures. The vessel which holds the _tisanne_ is not unlike a long
violin case in shape, with a spout to it; it finishes at the top like a
Chinese pagoda, and is sometimes covered with little jingling bells, and
hung round with pretty silver mugs. The dress of the _petites
bourgeoises_ is quite distinct from that of every other rank of person;
it is rather smart and neat than otherwise, but not at all picturesque.

I do not remember to have heard a single note of agreeable music while I
was in Paris, except that which regaled our ears in an opposite hotel
(belonging to Count S.) the second evening of our arrival. This nobleman
(of an Irish family, but now a naturalized Frenchman) gave a grand
dinner (in a temporary banqueting-room, built out upon the leads of the
house _à la troisieme étage_) to the English; and, during the
entertainment, his band of musicians played several pieces, amongst
others the celebrated national air, still dear to the French, of _Vive
Henri quatre_; they then attempted God save the King, but made a
dreadful business of it, which I attribute less to professional
ignorance than to the impossibility of their being able to feel it, or
to enter into the spirit of it _con amore_! The ballad singers (at least
all of them that we had an opportunity of hearing) have harsh wiry
voices and nasal tones; the latter circumstance, however, is almost
inseparable from their language. I could not but be diverted with the
_espièglerie_ of the _fille de chambre_ who attended me at the hotel de
Rivoli: she was ugly, but shrewd, and very active and civil. I asked her
if Count S. was a young man; upon which she hopped round the room in the
most ridiculous manner possible, imitating the action of a decrepit old
person. _Jeune!_ (said she) _oh mon Dieu, que non! c'est un vieux
Monsieur_ _qui va toujours comme cela!_ I inquired if she knew why he
gave this fête. Oh, _je n'en sais rien, mais, le pauvre homme, il n'a
que tres peu de temps encore à restre dans ce monde ci, et je crois
qu'il aime à faire parler de lui, avant de partir pour l'autre._

As to the personal charms of the women here, they appeared to me to be
very mediocre; we remarked three or four pretty faces, but not one that
had any claim to superior beauty. The people were all civil to us,
except one woman, who kept a little shop for _bijouterie_ in _le Palais
Royal_: nothing could be more pert and sulky than her language and
manner; she looked as if she hated us and our nation altogether. We
heard reports from other English people residing here, that it was very
common for the lower orders of French to treat us with marked incivility
and dislike; indeed that they should do so, under the present
circumstances, ought not to be wondered at. The bronze statue of _Henri
quatre_ was erecting during our stay; we passed by the spot (close to
the _Pont Neuf_), and beheld a mob assembled around it, with _gens
d'armes_ on duty: we did not see the statue itself, it being at that
moment covered with a purple mantle, studded with golden _fleurs de
lis_. The various political parties speak differently of this affair:
some say the brass of the statue will soon be converted into mortars,
and others, that it is built upon a rock, and will stand for ever! The
bridges appeared to us all vastly inferior to ours in London; that of
Waterloo, in the Strand, makes them shrink into utter insignificance in
comparison! but the palaces and public buildings are, on the contrary,
infinitely finer than our own. Nothing can be more magnificent, or in a
more noble taste! I was very much amused by the novelty (totally unknown
to ladies in England) of dining at a _restaurateur's_. Curiosity induced
me to accompany Mr. Baillie, and our friend, to _Véry's_, and the next
day to _Beauvilliers'_, two of the most distinguished in the profession
in Paris; and the excellence of the cookery almost awakened (or rather I
should say created) in me a spirit of _gourmandise_. There were a few
other ladies present, which was a sort of sanction for me. A Russian or
Prussian officer (by his appearance) sat at one of the little tables
next to us, at _Beauvilliers'_, and very nearly made me sick by the
sight of his long, thick, greasy moustaches, and his disgusting habit of
spitting every instant upon the floor. I observed that the French people
eat their vegetables (always dressed with white sauce) after the meat,
&c. and as a sort of dessert or _bonne bouche_ even after they have
finished their sweet dishes: to us this seems an odd custom. We took our
coffee and liqueurs at a _Café_ near the Tuileries, and then, while the
gentlemen went to the opera, I returned to the hotel, to go on with my
journal.

One morning we devoted to an expedition to the interesting cemetery of
_Père de la Chaise_, the celebrated confessor of Louis quatorze. The
house in which he resided stands in the midst, and is preserved as a
sacred ruin. Nothing can be more striking, and affecting to the
imagination, than this place of burial; it is of considerable extent,
with a well managed relief of shade and inequality of ground. The tombs
and graves are kept in the highest order and repair, and almost all of
them are planted with shrubs and fragrant flowers, mingled with the
mournful cypress and yew: the acacia tree also is planted here in great
abundance, and the wild vine trails its broad leaves and graceful
clusters over many of the monuments. We remarked several beautiful
tombs; amongst others, a light Gothic temple, which contains the
mouldering remains of Abelard and Eloise, brought from the former place
of their interment to the present appropriate and lovely situation:
their statues lie side by side carved in stone, in their religious
habits, their heads resting on cushions, and his feet upon a dog. All
this did him too much honour; as he was the most selfish tyrannical
lover in the world, and quite unworthy, in my opinion, of the attachment
of the unfortunate Eloise. Several of the inscriptions on humbler tombs
were affecting from their brevity and simplicity; upon that of a man in
the prime of life we read the following short sentence: _A la memoire de
mon meilleur ami_--_c'étoit mon frere_! On another, _Ci_ _git P----
N----: son epouse perd en lui le plus tendre de ses amis, et ses enfans
un modele de vertu_. And upon one raised by its parents to the memory of
a child, _ci git notre fils cheri_; a little crown of artificial orange
blossoms, half blown, was in a glass-case at his head. We observed many
garlands of fresh and sweet flowers, hung upon the graves; every thing
marked the existence of tender remembrance and regret: it appears to me
as if in this place, alone, the dead were never forgotten. I ought,
however, to make honourable mention of a similar custom in Wales. A
woman was kneeling upon one of the tombs (which was overgrown by
fragrant shrubs), weeping bitterly, and I felt a great inclination to
bear her company: the last roses of summer were still lingering here,
and she was gathering one as we passed. There is a remarkably fine view
of Paris from the mount on which the house of _Père de la Chaise_
stands. I said it was preserved as a sacred ruin, but I, as a
protestant, could not look with much veneration upon it, as the
residence of the instigator of the revocation of the edict of Nantes;
that foul stain upon the character, and disgrace to the understanding of
_le grand Louis_, which will ever be remembered with indignation by
every candid and liberal Christian. But Protestantism has likewise its
bigots, almost as remorseless, and equally blind! witness some
sentiments discovered in the discourses of furious Calvin, and John
Knox; witness the actions of Cromwell, and his fanatical roundheads;
witness (alas! in our own days), the uncharitable and horribly
presumptuous principles and tenets of the Methodists and Saints! But
this is another digression: I return to the view of Paris. It is, as I
said before, extremely fine; you have a bird's eye prospect of the whole
city, with the proud towers of Notre Dame eminently conspicuous, and the
gilded dome of _l'hôpital des Invalides_, glittering in the sun. A word
(only one word) relative to the French custom of gilding so much and so
gaudily; it quite spoils the dignified effect of some of their noblest
works of architecture, and puts one in mind of a child who prefers the
showy ostentation of gold leaf upon his gingerbread to the more
wholesome taste of its own plain and unornamented excellence. I have met
with English people, however, who are vastly delighted with this false
style of decoration.

Before I take leave of Paris, I ought in justice to acknowledge that I
have not had an opportunity of enjoying its chief and proudest
attraction; I mean its best society. Our time did not allow of any
intercourse of this nature, and I regretted it much, because I have
always heard (and from those most capable of judging rightly) that the
tone of conversation in the upper circles here is remarkably attractive
and delightful; and that lovers of good taste, high breeding, social
enjoyment, and literary pursuits, would find themselves in Paris _en
pays de connoissance_. Deprived of this gratification, we felt (at least
Mr. B. and myself) no sort of reluctance or regret when the day of our
departure arrived: for our friend Mr. W. I will not so confidently
answer; he had been in Paris twice before, had met with many agreeable
people there, and consequently felt more at home among them.

As for me in particular, I can only say that Paris made no great
impression upon my fancy, and none at all upon my feelings; (always
excepting the _Louvre_, the _cimetiere_ of _Père de la Chaise_, and one
or two other interesting spectacles): and that I was, as I before
observed, so overpowered by its inconceivably filthy effluvia, and the
wretched inconvenience of its streets (both for walking and going in a
carriage), that I rather felt an exhilaration of spirits than otherwise
when we finally bade it adieu.

On the morning of our departure it rained a good deal, and our
postillion had taken care to fence himself against the weather; for he
had disguised himself in a long shaggy dress of goats' skins, bearing a
very accurate resemblance to the prints of Robinson Crusoe. We observed
this done by others, more than once. The horses had little bells
fastened to their harness; which practice is very common, we were told,
both in France and Italy. All the roads in the former, and most of them
in the latter country, are good; wide, smooth, and generally paved in
the middle, which has a noisy effect, but it renders the draught for
horses much easier than the road, in wet weather, or when they work in
very heavy carriages. Avenues are general; they improve the face of the
country when seen at a distance, but are monotonous and tiresome in
themselves. I used formerly to admire roads leading though avenues, but
it is possible to have too much of this. Between Villejuif and
Fromenteau we observed a pillar on the left with the following
chivalrous inscription; _Dieu, le Roi, les Dames!_ I was going to
rejoice in this apparent proof of the gallant spirit of the nation, but
I recollected the celebrated words of Burke, in his letter upon the
French revolution, and sighed as I involuntarily repeated, "The age of
chivalry is no more."

Just beyond Fromenteau, the country is really fine: woods, villages,
chateaus were in abundance, and the river Seine appeared to much
advantage; we remarked two stone fountains, one on each side of the
road, with the _fleurs de lis_ engraved upon them, built by Louis XV.
The French mile-stones here have quite a classical air, resembling
broken columns; they are not properly mile-stones, but serve to mark the
half leagues.

At Essone, where we changed horses, the postillion came out in a white
night-cap (or rather a cap which once had boasted that title of purity),
loose blue trowsers reaching scantily below the knee, and sans shoes or
stockings of any sort: upon seeing that his services were wanted, he
threw on an old japan hat, jumped into his jack boots, and clawing up
the reins, drove off with an air of as much importance and self
satisfaction as the smartest-clad post-boy on the Epsom road during the
race week.

In the stubble fields near Fontainbleau, we observed great quantities of
partridges. The shepherds here sleep in little moveable houses or huts,
upon wheels, somewhat inferior to a good English dog-kennel. At Chailly,
we saw the Virgin Mary looking out of a round hole in the wall, and not
at all more dignified in her appearance than the well-known hero of
Coventry. We now exchanged our driver for a spirited old gentleman, who
frolicked along beneath the burthen of threescore or more, seeming to
bid defiance to the whole collection of pains and HH's (vide Kemble's
classical pronunciation). Perhaps, reader, I do not make my meaning
perfectly clear; but that does not signify, the first authors write in
this way; and besides, I know what I mean myself, which is not always
the case even with them. We remarked in the course of our journey a
great number of similar merry Nestors, and found, almost invariably,
that they drove us faster, better, and in a superior style altogether to
their younger competitors. I suppose they have a sort of pride in thus
displaying their activity, which a middle-aged man does not feel.

We entered the superb forest of Fontainbleau just as the day began to
decline; the sombre gloom and peculiar smell of the leaves were very
agreeable. I have ever loved forest scenery, and would prefer a constant
residence in its vicinity to that of mountain, lake, or plain: the trees
here were chiefly beech, mixed with silver poplars, birch, and a few
oaks. How was it possible to thread these mazes without thinking of
_Henri quatre_, and his famous hunting adventure in the miller's hut? I
almost expected to see the stately shade of the noble monarch start from
each shadowy dell. Methought the sullen, yet faithful Sully, emerged
from the dark glades on the opposite side, seeking in vain for the
benighted sovereign; and venting his affectionate inquietudes in the
language of apparent severity and ill humour. I thought--but it does not
matter what more I thought, in which opinion I dare say my reader will
fully agree with me. We arrived at our inn (_la Galère_), and well did
it deserve that name, for never poor slave chained to the bench and oar
suffered more severely from the merciless lash of his task-master than I
did from the tormenting tyranny of the bugs, which swarmed in this
detestable place. There was no sitting-room immediately ready for our
reception, so we sat down in the old, lofty, smoke-stained kitchen, and
amused ourselves with observing the progress of our supper, in company
with a very sociable little dog, (who took a great fancy to me,) and
_Monsieur le Chef_, an appropriate name, invariably given to the cook
in most parts of the Continent.

When we retired to rest for the night, no words can express the disgust
which assailed us: finding it impossible to remain in bed, I was obliged
to lie in the middle of the room, upon six hard, worm-eaten, wooden
chairs, whose ruthless angles ran into my wearied frame, and rendered
every bone sore before morning; but even this did not save me, for the
vermin ascended by the legs of the chairs, and really almost eat me up,
as the rats did Southey's Bishop Hatto[3]. My imagination for several
days after this adventure was so deeply saturated with their nauseous
idea, that every object brought them in some way or other before me.

Upon quitting Fontainbleau, we first observed the _sabots_ (or wooden
shoes) worn by the peasantry; they are of enormous size, and must, I
should think, be very heavy and inconvenient to the wearer. A piece of
sheep-skin, with the woolly side inwards, is often slipt between the
sabot and the foot, to prevent the former from excoriating the instep.

At Moret, a dirty little town, we saw a whole row of women washing linen
in the river; they were in a kneeling position, and beat the clothes
with a wooden mallet; they ought all to be provided with husbands from
among the linen drapers, as they are such admirable helps to the trade.
We met several donkeys here, carrying rushes, piled up like moving
houses, so high, that only the heads and hoofs of the animals were
visible. Vast tracts of land, covered with vineyards, extended on every
side, and the eternal straight road, where one could see for three or
four miles the track one was to follow, began to be excessively tedious
and wearing to the spirits: how different from the winding, undulating,
graceful roads in England!

Country near Pont sur Yonne open, bald, and monotonous. The French
vineyards when seen closely have a formal effect, being planted in stiff
rows, like scarlet runners in a kitchen garden, but they much enrich
the landscape at a distance. The river Yonne is a pretty little stream,
but the nymphs on its banks are not at all picturesque in their costume,
which is by no means particularly marked, being dirty and unbecoming,
and very much (I am ashamed to say) in the style of our common
countrywomen about Brentford, Hammersmith, &c.

Sens is an ancient town: it has a handsome cathedral and gateway. The
bread made here (as well as in most parts of France, except partially in
Paris) is mixed with leaven instead of yeast, and is sour and
disagreeable in consequence. We remarked many gardens richly cultivated,
full of choice vegetables and fruit, by the side of the highroad,
without the smallest inclosure; a proof, I should imagine, of the
honesty of the country people. There are several English families
resident here, as the environs are very pretty, and the town itself an
agreeable one. We stopped to take our breakfast at _la Poste_, and
bought excellent grapes for four-pence a pound English money. The late
Dauphin, father of the present king, is buried in the cathedral of this
place, and the duke and duchess d'Angouleme, &c. come once a year to
pray for his soul's repose.

Pursuing our route, we met many Burgundy waggons, loaded with wine; the
horses were ornamented with enormous collars of sheep-skin, dyed of a
bright blue colour: the _tout ensemble_ had a picturesque appearance,
and the waggons were the first we had seen in France which had four
wheels, the weight being usually balanced between a pair. A sudden storm
of rain now coming on, had a beautiful effect; the retreating sunbeams
played in catching lights (to use the expression of an artist) upon the
abrupt points of the distant hills, and partially illuminated their soft
and verdant tapestry of vines. We particularly enjoyed it after the long
season of heat and drought. Here are whole groves of walnut-trees,
beneath which we met a group of five women belonging to the vineyards;
they were every one handsome, with ruddy, wholesome, yet sun-burnt
complexions, lively smiles, and long bright dark eyes and shadowy
lashes.

Entered Villeneuve sur Yonne; saw loads of charcoal on the river, going
to replenish the kitchens of many a _Parisian Heliogabalus_! this is
also an ancient town, with two curious old gateways, but it appeared
very dull. I admired some fine hedges of acacia, and four pretty, sleek,
grey donkeys, who were drawing the plough. The road is winding here,
like those of our own country, for which we were solely indebted to the
turns of the river, whose course it accompanied.

Joigny. A handsome stone bridge seems its most remarkable ornament: the
river is broad and fine, flowing through steep banks fringed with wood.
We dined and slept at _les Cinq Mineurs_, and this in the same room. A
most obliging, intelligent, young woman waited upon us, whose name was
_Veronique_. After dinner we walked on the promenade by the side of the
river, and saw the barracks, &c. My friends met with a little adventure
in their rambles, while I was resting myself at the inn. Seeing a pretty
little boy and his sister at play near the chateau, (belonging to the
ancient counts of Joigny,) they entered into conversation with them,
upon which they were joined by the father of the children, a French
country gentleman, who resided in a small house opposite the chateau: he
insisted upon their coming in with him, and as the dinner was ready,
much wished to tempt them to partake the meal: this they declined, and
their new acquaintance proceeded to shew them his collection of
pictures, _de très bons morceaux_, as he called them, but which did not
rank quite so high in the estimation of his visitors. He unintentionally
displayed, however, a much more pleasing possession; I mean that of an
amiable and grateful disposition, for he said in the course of
conversation, that he was always on the watch for an opportunity of
shewing hospitality and attention to the English, as some little return
for the kindness he had experienced from their nation, during a visit he
had formerly made to his brother in Dorsetshire; this brother was one of
the monks of the order of _La Trappe_, a small number of whom had been
collected together, and who lived, in their former habits of monastic
gloom and austerity, at Lulworth castle in that county, under the
protection of an English catholic (Mr. Weld), during the French
revolution. He related some interesting anecdotes of this severe
establishment; in particular, that of an Austrian general of high rank,
who after enrolling himself a member of the community, and living some
years in the practice of incredible hardships and privations, at length
permitted his tongue to reveal his name and family, about ten minutes
previous to his dissolution; faithful to the vow which is common to them
all, of not speaking until the moment of death. I was not aware that
such an institution existed in England, till this French gentleman
related the circumstance, and it strengthened the sensations of mixed
horror and pity, which I have ever felt for the victims of fanaticism,
in every shape and in every degree. How incredible does it appear, (in
the judgment of reasonable beings) that mortals should imagine the
benevolent Author of Nature can possibly take pleasure in a mode of
worship which restricts his creatures from the enjoyment of those
comforts and innocent pleasures with which life abounds, and for which
he has so peculiarly adapted their faculties! Shall all created beings
express their sense of existence in bursts of involuntary cheerfulness
and hilarity of spirit, and man alone offer up his adorations with a
brow of gloom, and a heart withered by slavish sensations of fear and
alarm? but enough upon so sacred a subject.

On returning to their inn, the gentlemen met several teams of oxen,
decorated with pretty high bonnets (_à la cauchoise_) made of straw: the
natives here seem to take great pride and pleasure in the accoutrements
of their cattle. An English family arrived at the _Cinq Mineurs_ at the
same time with ourselves; they were well known in London as people of
some consequence and property. Their sensations on passing through
France were widely different from ours, as they described themselves to
have been thoroughly disgusted with every body and every thing they saw;
had met with nothing but cheating and imposition among the people; and
had not been able to observe any pretty country, or interesting objects
_en route_--yet they had gone over exactly the same ground that we had
done. As they sometimes travelled all night, I conclude they slept the
whole or greater part of the time; but there are more ways than one of
going through the world with the eyes shut.

In the neighbourhood of Joigny, (on the other side of the town,) there
is a great quantity of hemp grown; and all the trees are stripped up to
the tops, like those in many parts of Berkshire, where the graceful is
frequently sacrificed to the useful: they had a very ugly effect.

Approaching Auxerre, the cathedral looks handsome; there are three
churches besides. The first view of Burgundy is not prepossessing;
nothing but tame-looking hills, with casual patches of vines; the river,
however, is a pretty object, and continues to bestow a little life upon
the landscape. The same absence of costume continues. At Auxerre, we
breakfasted at _l'hotel du Leopard_; the vines were trained over the
house with some degree of taste, and took off from the air of forlorn
discomfort which the foreign inns so frequently exhibit. I was rather
surprised at being ushered into the same room with a fine
haughty-looking peacock, a pea-hen, and their young brood; they did not
seem at all disconcerted at my entrance, but continued stalking gravely
about, as if doing the honors of the apartment. The _salle à manger_ was
in a better _goût_ (although not half so comfortable) than most of our
English parlours; the walls were papered with graceful figures from
stories of the pagan mythology and bold, spirited landscapes in the back
ground, coloured in imitation of old bistre drawings; the crazy sopha
and arm chair were covered with rich tapestry, of prodigiously fine
colours, yet somewhat the worse for wear. This was our first Burgundy
breakfast, and it evinced the luxuriance of the country, for it
consisted (as a thing of course) of black and white grapes, melons,
peaches, greengages, and pears, to which were added fresh eggs by the
dozen, good _cafè au lait_, and creaming butter just from the churn,
with the crucifix stamped upon it. At all French _déjeunés_ they ask if
you do not choose fruit, and at dinner it is invariably brought to table
in the last course, with a slice of cheese as part of the dessert. Mr.
Baillie was not well, and starved like Tantalus in the midst of plenty,
which was very unlucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We saw the peasants making ropes by the side of the road; one man
carried a distaff in his hand, much bigger than a large stable broom. I
bought of a _villageoise_ at Macon one of the little hats and caps
before mentioned. She attempted to impose upon me as to the price; but I
do not consider this at all as a national trait. I am afraid an English
countrywoman would have been equally anxious to make the best bargain
she could, fairly or otherwise! The cap was really very becoming, even
to my British features. I saw in one of the cottages a loaf of their
bread: it was extremely coarse, and as flat, round, and large as a
table. There is a grand chain of mountains on the right, called the
_Charolais_. We again observed cows ploughing in the fields: they had
all a curious head-dress, a sort of veil or network, to preserve them
from the flies, like the military bridles of our dragoon horses. Most of
the cattle hereabouts (and we had seen quantities) were of a cream
colour. The country is luxuriant, full of chateaux, fertile, and
cultivated, more so than any we had yet observed, and it is allowed to
be the finest part of France. Mr. W. examined the nature of the soil,
and found it fat and rich in the highest degree. I must once more
repeat my admiration of the frequent and great beauty of the young
children in this country, more particularly in these parts. I saw
several with cheeks like the sunny side of a peach; little, round, plump
faces, and delicately chiselled features, with a profusion of luxuriant
hair hanging in natural ringlets upon their shoulders: the mere babies
also are very interesting. The parents throughout France are remarkable
for love of offspring[4].

About three or four miles from Macon you enter the department of the
Maconnais, and afterwards that of the Jura (so called from the mountains
of the same name), but formerly known by that of the Lyonnais. We saw at
St. George de Rognains a most beautiful woman, a _villageoise_; her
proportions were fine, and rather full; her face very much in the style
of our well-known English belles, Lady O. and Mrs. L.; but she was not
so large as either of them. She wore the usual costume of her native
place, which was more peculiarly marked in the cap. It is extremely
becoming, and pretty in itself. I know not how to describe it exactly;
but it is flat upon the crown, with a good deal of coarse transparent
lace, like wings, full every where but on the brow, across which it is
laid low and plain, in the style of some antique pictures I remember to
have seen. This superb woman's fine features set it off amazingly. She
also wore a flowered cotton gown (of gay colours upon a dark ground), a
crimson apron and bib, with a white handkerchief. What a charming
portrait would Sir Thomas Lawrence have made of her, and how she would
astonish the amateurs of beauty in England, were she suddenly to appear
among them! I am thus particular in describing costume, to please the
readers of my own sex. We met here some _religieuses_ walking in the
road, belonging to a convent in the distance. Their habit was not very
remarkable, except that they wore black veils, with high peaks on the
front of the head, and long rosaries by their sides.

Villefranche; a populous old town. It was market day; yet not one
instance of intoxication did we see, neither here nor in any other part
of France through which we had passed. Certainly drunkenness is not the
vice of the nation, although they have a due admiration for strong beer,
which is sold under the name of _bonne bierre de Mars_. There is a fine
church here, of Gothic architecture.

We did not reach Lyons until late at night; and, as I was very much
fatigued, and longed to get into the hotel, I thought the length of the
environs and suburbs endless. However, we arrived at last, and after a
refreshing sleep, were awakened the next morning by the firing of cannon
close under our windows. It was the fête of St. Louis, which is always
celebrated with particular pomp and splendour. It was also the great
jubilee of the Lyonese _peruquiers_, who went in procession to high
mass, and from thence to an entertainment prepared for them. The
_jouteurs_ (or plungers in water) likewise made a very magnificent
appearance. They walked two and two round the town, and after a famous
dinner (laid out for them in a lower apartment of our hotel) proceeded
to exhibit a sort of aquatic tournament, in boats, upon the river. This
is a very ancient festival, and is mentioned (if I recollect right) by
Rousseau. The dress of the combatants (among whom were several young
boys of eight and five years old) was very handsome and fanciful,
entirely composed of white linen, ornamented with knots of dark-blue
riband. They had white kid leather shoes, tied with the same colours,
caps richly ornamented with gold, and finished with gold tassels. In
their hands they carried blue and gold oars, and long poles, and upon
their breasts a wooden sort of shield or breastplate, divided into
square compartments, and strapped firmly on like armour, or that
peculiar ornament, the ephod, worn by the ancient Jewish high priests.
Against this they pushed with the poles as hard as possible,
endeavouring to jostle and overturn their opponents; the vanquished,
falling into the water, save themselves by swimming, while the victors
carry off a prize. We went down stairs to see these heroes at dinner,
and one of them civilly invited us into the room, to observe every
particular at our ease.

The military were all drawn out this morning, and I thought there never
would be an end of their firing, trumpeting, &c.; the whole town
resounded with noise, bustle, and gay confusion. We distinguished the
Swiss guards, who wore a red uniform, like the English troops; a fine
regiment of chasseurs, green, faced with red; a troop of lancers, on
beautiful spirited black horses, uniform green and orange; the national
guards, dark blue and red, with cocked hats; and, lastly, the foot
guards, in white: the officers of the latter really looked like London
footmen; nothing could be more ugly and ungentlemanly than their
costume. All these were reviewed in _la Grande Place_, built by
Bonaparte, who laid the first stone. The houses there are very handsome,
and some of them rise to the height of seven stories. A steep hill,
covered with vines, and crowned by buildings like castles, forms the
background of this fine _place_, at the bottom of which rolls the grand
and magnificent Rhone. Our inn (_l'hotel de Provence_) stood here. It
is a very comfortable, excellent, well-ordered establishment: the
apartments assigned for our particular use put me in mind of the old
state-rooms in our shabby palace of St. James. The furniture was of
crimson and white satin damask, and the beds of rich crimson damask;
Lyons, as all the world knows, being famous for its rich silks. The
ancient arm-chairs were studded with gilt nails, and the brick-floors
carefully rubbed and polished till they resembled marble. That of the
_salle à manger_ was of curiously inlaid oak. The attendants were all
men: one of them made my bed, and was perpetually frisking in and out
(in his department of housemaid), rather to my annoyance and surprise.
The first night of our arrival, I was shut up (as I thought) in my own
room, unpacking my _sac de nuit_, when, upon turning suddenly round, I
saw the great rough figure of our postillion, who had entered without
knocking, and was standing much at his ease, expecting to be paid. The
_garçon_ who waited at dinner was a fine specimen of the honest,
cheerful French peasant lad, his countenance and manner the perfection
of good humour and simplicity.

The promenade of the town (a walk of shady trees in the midst of _la
Grande Place_) being filled with gay groups in every possible variety of
costume, offered a most amusing spectacle to a stranger's eye. We sat
there some time upon the hired chairs, which are in as great request as
at Paris. Here we found booths, kept by venders of tisanne, lemonade,
&c. who were, some of them, niched in little covered tubs, like
Diogenes. We were much stared at; but not with any rudeness or
incivility. We even imagined that we saw a more favourable expression of
countenance in the people of Lyons (while gazing upon the English) than
in those of Paris. In the latter we certainly did now and then discover
the signs of unequivocal hatred and dislike; and although they never
gave vent (in our hearing at least) to their ill-will in words, there
was a mute eloquence of eye, which it is difficult to mistake.

But to return to the promenade, &c. my petticoat of moravian work seemed
to catch the admiring observation of all the females who passed; and
indeed I ought, in justice to our British needlewomen, to remark, that
their performance is rarely equalled, and assuredly never surpassed, by
their continental rivals, however highly French work may be praised and
sought after by our capricious leaders of _ton_.

The confluence of the rivers Rhone and Saone here is reckoned to be one
of the finest things of the kind in Europe. We went to see it, but were
rather disappointed in its effect; for the late uncommonly dry season
had greatly diminished the pride of both these celebrated streams. It
takes place at a spot about half a mile distant from the town, and we
drove thither in a ridiculous hired vehicle, called a _carriole_, very
like a long four-posted bedstead, on wheels, with coarse linen curtains
for summer weather, and black shabby leather ones for winter. A seat,
resembling a mattrass, was slung on the inside, upon which the people
sit back to back, like those in an Irish jaunting car. The driver is
upon a seat in front, and manages two horses, which are generally
ornamented with frontlets, and knots of gay riband and bells. Our
coachman was quite a coxcomb, sporting smart nankeen trowsers, gaiters,
and yellow shoes of washed leather.

The women at Lyons struck us as remarkably ugly, and we actually were
unable to discover a single pretty face among them. We met a country
dame, stumping into town to partake in the gaieties of the fête, dressed
in a bright yellow gown, tucked up at the pocket-holes, so as to display
a full rose-coloured petticoat beneath, white stockings, black slippers,
a deep gipsy hat of Leghorn straw, and a white handkerchief with the
usual flowered border.

Nothing can be handsomer than this town: it much resembles Bath,
particularly in its environs, which are built upon hanging hills, and
embosomed in woods and vineyards. The convent of St. Michael, rising
among them, is very ugly, however, reminding one of a large Birmingham
manufactory. Here dwell _les Soeurs de la Charité_, and we were
informed that they really are of great use, and do much good in their
generation, which cannot, alas! be said of the regular nuns, poor
victims!

At night we went to the _comedie_. The theatre was dirty, and somewhat
shabby; all the light thrown exclusively upon the stage, as usual in
foreign theatres. The actors were really extremely good, and the
audience seemed a loyal one upon the whole, which was discoverable by
their seizing and duly applauding the several claptraps which occurred
in the piece they were exhibiting. It was _La partie de Chasse de Henri
quatre_--the first scene a beautiful part of the forest of Fontainbleau.
The story, though familiar to every body, seemed to interest all hearts,
ours among the rest. I confess that, for my own part, I was surprised by
feeling the tears coursing each other down my face, when I least
expected it; and yet I was a stranger and a foreigner! How must the
French, then, feel in the recollection of this and all the other
thousand acts of benevolence and magnanimity of their glorious monarch,
whose now beatified spirit seems to shed a guardian glory around the
heads of his descendants! We returned home immediately after the
representation of this piece, not staying the farce; and after taking
coffee, once more sallied forth to view the beautiful illuminations
which were displayed in honour of the day. The night was clear, warm,
and balmy, and the whole population of the city (a hundred and nine
thousand persons) seemed to be walking about, enjoying themselves
completely. The effect of the lights reflected upon the distant
vine-clad hills was singularly beautiful. I admired the costume of many
of the children here; they wore large shepherdess-sort of Leghorn hats
with very low crowns, wreathed with pretty roses, which harmonized with
their little innocent round faces remarkably well. The soldiers,
_paysannes_, and some of the _bourgeoises_, were dancing quadrilles
under the trees of the promenade, which was lighted much in the manner
of Vauxhall. There was a busy hum of voices in the air, swelling upon
the breeze, mixed with notes of animating music, and occasional bursts
of mirth and laughter, which, I believe, might have been heard for
miles. In short, the scene was a perfect carnival. On reaching our inn,
we saw the officers of the foot guards (who had been dining together in
the same apartment occupied by the _jouteurs_ in the morning) dancing
waltzes to the loud music of their own band, in which the brazen tones
of the trumpet were painfully pre-eminent. For want of female partners,
they had, some of them, taken off their coats, and dressed themselves up
in mob caps, shawls, and petticoats made of the dinner napkins. In this
strange costume they tore about the room, swinging each other in a
manner that disgusted while it made us smile. The master of the house,
who seemed to think all this very fine, wanted to know if _Madame_ would
not join in the merry dance? (meaning me); but Mr. B. quietly declined
the obliging proposal, saying, "I was not quite strong enough for such
an attempt just now." Upon which _Monsieur_ came behind me, and,
supporting me under both the elbows, almost carried me up the stairs to
the door of our apartment; so obsequious are the French to all women.
There is a proverb relative to our sex, which observes, that _Paris est
le paradis des femmes, le purgatoire des maris, et l'enfer des chevaux_.
I, as an English wife, however, can imagine no place to be a paradise
for me, which is at the same time a punishment to my husband; neither
could I taste perfect felicity, if it was purchased at the expense of my
brute fellow-creatures. But I do not mean tediously to moralize upon a
little _jeu d'esprit_, which has some wit and truth in it, after all.

Determined to make the most of our short time, we went the next day to
see the cathedral, which is of Moorish architecture. Within we found a
singular mixture of orders; the Corinthian, composite, Gothic, Saxon,
and a sort of nondescript, which (as we were none of us particularly
learned on the subject) we concluded to be the regular Moorish. The
whole body of this fine building appeared glowing with the rose and
purple tints of sunset, and the gold ornaments upon the high altar
actually flamed resplendent in this lovely light, as if they had been
formed of solid fire! The effect was produced by the stained glass of
the windows, of every possible variety of colour, magnificent beyond
all idea, and far different from any which we had ever seen before;
indeed, in attempting to describe their peculiarity, I feel that I have
done foolishly, as it is impossible to give my readers any adequate
notion of their extraordinary splendour and beauty. We did not so much
admire another curiosity exhibited here, which is a clock, from a niche
in the front of which, when it strikes the hours, a figure of the Virgin
suddenly protrudes, and makes a gracious inclination of the body; while
in another recess above there is a very paltry and shocking
representative of the Father, who also leans forward in the act of
giving his benediction. The attempt thus to embody the inconceivable
glories of person belonging to the unseen God is both absurd and
impious; yet surely not so much so, as the wish and endeavour of some
fanatics to shroud the ineffable mercy and benevolence of the same being
beneath a dark, chilling, and repulsively gloomy veil of severity,
wrath, and implacability. In both cases, the true features of the
Divinity are shamefully and ridiculously misrepresented. We also saw two
fine white marble statues of St. Stephen and St. John, both spoilt by
crowns of trumpery artificial flowers and tinsel, which gave them the
air of our "Jacks in the green" on May-day.

We returned to our hotel, when, after an excellent dinner, we tasted for
the first time fresh almonds, brought up in their outside rinds; they
resemble small withered peaches in a green state, and I believe,
speaking scientifically, that they are in fact a species of that fruit,
and are classed accordingly; we found them very good, resembling
filberts in flavour, and they are eaten with salt, in the same manner.

The next morning we bade adieu to Lyons; on the road from thence, at a
place called St. Laurent des Mures, we saw the women as well as the men
threshing corn, and this in the open air--a strong proof of fine
climate: we afterwards remarked the practice universally. There are many
walnut trees about here, but the country was flat and dull for some
miles. We now however passed over a heath, (where, as Shakespeare
expresses it, "the air smelt wooingly,") enriched by wood, and banks of
waving fern, bounded by some near mountains; there was a picturesque
view of a castle, upon the summit of a hill, embosomed in trees. These
objects were a great relief to the eye, after the eternal stubble fields
near Lyons. Here we observed ploughing performed by mules, which I
approved of much, when compared with the use of cows for these sort of
labours; the latter, poor things, are of such inestimable value in other
respects, that surely it is very unfair to require their services as
beasts of burthen. The roofs of the buildings in this neighbourhood now
first began to assume an Italian character, and to harmonize with the
ideas I had formed of the vicinity of the Alps, which were visible in
the distance; but the latter did not improve the landscape so much as my
hitherto untravelled eyes had expected, for they were so far off, that
they resembled clouds, for which I should certainly have mistaken them,
had I not been told what they really were. We here encountered a
peasant, who was thin enough to have passed for the Death in Burgher's
"Leonora:" his face was a mere skull, with a sallow skin strained over
it; his black eager eyes deep sunk in their immense sockets. I was quite
afraid of dreaming of him.

For several days past, we had taken leave of the peculiar costume of the
postillions, which is not much retained on this side of Paris. Cattle
now were seen of all colours; the country became more undulating and
woody, and the vineyards wore a very different and much more graceful
appearance, being trained far higher, not formally planted, (as I have
before described) but frequently twined around standard apple and other
trees, from which they hung in light and careless festoons, forming
altogether a singular effect of blended foliage. They are universally
trained in this manner in Italy; the French pretend that the produce is
thereby rendered less plentiful, and that what is gained in beauty is
lost in value: I cannot pronounce upon the truth of the assertion. The
walnut-tree grew here in increased profusion, mixed frequently with the
mulberry, forming an agreeable shade to the road.

We breakfasted at Bourgoin, where they gave us good provisions, but
charged in a most extravagant way. There is a great deal of marshy land,
and the inhabitants look unhealthy: some of them have _goîtres_ (or
glandular swellings) in consequence of extreme relaxation from the
moisture of the air. Two filthy girls waited upon us at breakfast: they
wore no caps, and their hair was in a most disgusting condition. We
afterwards remarked numbers of women, equally devoid of coifs and
cleanliness. _Apropos_ to the former, I certainly greatly incline to
prefer them to the more classical and simple fashion of wearing the head
wholly uncovered: there is something very feminine and pretty in a
white, neat, well-plaited cap, set off by a bright coloured riband and
smart knot; and I really think the French _paysannes_ knew what they
were about, when they so universally adopted that costume.

The country shortly changed to a scene of wonderful richness and beauty,
resembling the finest parts of Devonshire; but the view of an immense
crucifix rising picturesquely amid the woods gave it a foreign character
at once. Nothing can exceed the loveliness of this part of France; it is
indeed exquisite, and doubly pleasing from its rarity. The unusual heat
of the late summer (felt as sensibly as in England) had dried up most of
the smaller rivers and brooks hereabouts, and the dust was actually
flying in their sandy channels. We were now in Dauphiny.

A few miles before we entered Beauvoisin (which divides Dauphiny from
Savoy), a very grand amphitheatre of the Savoy mountains rose suddenly
upon us. The sight was peculiarly striking to me, as I had never yet
seen the effect of this sort of scenery. We frequently observed
buildings here of the _pisè_ or mud, very neatly finished; indeed we
were surprised to perceive how much they had contrived to make of so
base and common a material. We met some countrywomen riding astride,
which had a very odd appearance--_odd_ is a vague term, and rather an
unclassical one: I am perfectly aware of its defects but I cannot at
this moment think of any other which would so well express my meaning;
yet confound me not, kind reader, with that mass of ignorant and
conceited persons, who always call every thing _odd_ which they
themselves either cannot understand, or to which they happen to be
unaccustomed. Such, for instance, whom I have heard designating Byron's
grand poetical conceptions as _odd fancies_, or the exquisite sketches
of Westall's imaginative pencil as _odd things_, or calling the truly
enlightened and liberal theological sentiments of Paley, Watson,
Fellows, &c. _odd opinions_. But I have rambled strangely from the
point; the little countrywomen and their nags completely ran away with
me! In spite of the _oddity_ of their position, I am ready candidly to
allow that there is a great deal of safety in it.

Beauvoisin is in the near vicinity of prodigiously fine scenery. We
passed through groves of the grandest chestnut trees, loaded with a
profusion of fruit, and the whole face of nature afforded such a superb
union of the beautiful and sublime, that we thought all we had
previously seen in France paltry in the comparison. The silkworm is much
cultivated here, and we saw many of the peasants employed in spinning
both silk and flax with distaffs and wheels; multitudes of women and
girls were seated at their doors, as we passed through Beauvoisin, all
busied in this occupation: they seemed to be chatting together very
happily, their tongues going as fast as their fingers. I thought of
Shakespeare's "spinners and knitters in the sun" telling "their tales."
We dined at the horrid little hole of an inn at this place, dirty, dark,
and full of the usual bad odours so prevalent in continental
habitations. The meal was served, as might be expected, in a slovenly
manner, and we were glad to proceed on our journey as soon as it was
despatched; previously submitting our luggage, &c. to the inspection of
the custom-house officers, having now entered the Sardinian territories.

We had not advanced far, ere the country opened, if possible, into an
increased blaze of beauty. Close to us were well-wooded mountains; on
the left, vineyards trained in the graceful Italian fashion I have
lately mentioned; far below us, on the right, was a limpid river,
sweetly winding though a valley, and on all sides villas (beautiful in
themselves and most romantically situated) lent an additional grace and
charm to the scene. The road was a perfect bower of walnut trees; and
the attractions of some of the peasant children, whom we now and then
met, with their large black eyes, and peculiar style of beauty, told us
that we were fast approaching the confines of Italy.

We now ascended a steep winding road, which leads to the summit of a
mountain called _La Montagne de l'Eschelles_. I find it more than ever
impossible to give any just and proportionate idea of the enchanting
prospects which every moment rose upon our delighted eyes! to conceive
them properly, they must be _seen_. We distinguished paths amid the
woody sides of the opposite heights, which looked as lovely as if they
led to Paradise; and I longed to spring from the confinement of the
carriage, and to explore their wild and exquisitely romantic
terminations, although the shades of evening, fast closing upon us,
might have rendered such an attempt most perilous. The low parapet wall,
erected within the last eight years by that mighty enchanter Napoleon,
(who seemed, while his "star was lord of the ascendant," to do all he
wished with _un coup de baguette_), preserved us from the danger of
falling down the precipice which yawned by the side of our road; and
also completely obviated the sort of nervous sensation which travellers
are so apt to feel while gazing upon the awful depths which surround
them! Upon turning a sharp angle, the rocks, in vast and stupendous
masses, rose perpendicularly above our heads, amidst which we were
amazed to perceive several cottages "perched like the eagle's nest, on
high." Rousseau has ably painted this incomparable scene, in his
_Nouvelle Heloise_, and I was gratified in thus convincing myself of the
accuracy and truth of his pencil. As we passed near these lonely
habitations, the breath of the cows belonging to the rustic inmates,
mingled sweetly with the scent of the leaves and aromatic herbs, and
added new fragrance to the soft and refreshing winds of evening. This
wild ravine was succeeded by the milder beauties of a green and mossy
bank, rising above smiling meadows; the contrast was striking. These are
sights indeed, which might arouse the dullest of mortals, and which make
the hearts of those gifted with sensibility and imagination swell high
within them!

Echelles, a small town, standing in a valley, completely hemmed in with
majestic mountains. We drank our tea and slept here at _La Poste_, and I
sat out, as long as it was prudent, in an open wooden gallery, (which
ran round the outside of the house, and commanded a view of the superb
scene), talking with the hostess, a cheerful, well-looking young woman,
who was overwhelmed by the number of her progeny. The youngest of the
children, a little girl of three years old, came up to me and laid her
head upon my knees, with the happy ease of innocent confidence,
chattering bad French with all her might; the mother also introduced two
of her sons to us (boys of five and seven), who ran in to bid her good
night before they went to bed, and to hug and kiss her. The youngest (a
fine sturdy rogue) told me that he always said his prayers, and that
after _le bon Dieu_, he loved "Maman." This woman, in the midst of her
rustic simplicity, had had the true good sense of presenting the Deity
to the infant imaginations of her children, under the attractive image
of an indulgent parent, thus fulfilling the sacred command of "Give me
thine heart." A convent of the Chartreuse still exists in the
neighbourhood; I believe it is the famous convent of _La Grande
Chartreuse_, a most interesting spot, but inaccessible to women. I made
inquiries about some of the natural productions of these mountains, and
learnt that so many superior simples and aromatic plants (_note_ A) grew
there, as to induce the apothecaries and chemists who lived within
reach, to come in search of them very frequently.

We left Echelles early the next morning (our common hour of rising being
five o'clock), and proceeded through a solitary road, winding at the
feet of some desolate-looking mountains. Passing by several deep
quarries of limestone, we soon arrived at the tremendous ascent, known
under the very appropriate name of _Les Eschelles de Savoy_. Here we
stopped at a lone hovel, to add a couple of oxen to our usual three
horses; but these animals being at work at the plough, we were obliged
to be satisfied with the assistance of another horse. A girl accordingly
brought him out, helped to arrange the traces, &c, and ran by his side
half way up the mountain, till we had attained the most arduous pass,
and then returned with him to her cottage. She wore her hair gathered in
a knot at the back of the head, in the true Italian style. As we toiled
along, we observed a _paysanne_, with a load upon her head (most
probably on her early way to some village market), stop to pay her
morning devotions at a shrine of the Virgin, rudely carved in wood, and
placed in a niche by the road-side. How shall I describe the wonderful
manner in which we climbed these frightful eschelles? We seemed to be
drawn up by our straining, labouring horses almost in a perpendicular
direction, and at a foot's pace. On our left was a yawning chasm of
immense magnitude, among a gloomy pile of frowning rocks, which might
well be the abode of some ancient giant or geni; while further on, these
same rocks, extending their mighty barriers on every side, seemed to
hang tremulously over head, threatening to crush the hapless traveller,
should sudden wind or storm arise to shake them from their
precarious-looking base. The blue heaven above us was nearly shut from
our sight by their dark and shadowy projections. Our guides (three or
four in number, and resembling, in their wild, strange attire and
features, a group of _Salvator Rosa_'s banditti) pointed out to us the
ancient road, passable, even in its best days, by mules alone. It was a
narrow ledge, with no defence whatever from the precipice on one side,
winding in serpentine mazes through deep grottos, or chasms, in the
bowels of the mountain. We saw a prodigious monument of Bonaparte's
daring genius in a tunnel, which had been cut through the heart of these
solid rocks, and beneath which a fine road was to have been made; but
his career of power having been so suddenly and awfully checked, the
work remains unfinished. After shuddering amid the sublimity of these
scenes for some time, their rugged character gradually softened upon us,
and the tender green of the fern, mingling richly with the tangled
underwood, began to make its welcome appearance. Far above our heads,
also, dark forests of lofty pine were occasionally visible, although the
lower crags of overhanging rock generally hid them from our view. At
length the prospect expanded into verdant pastures (where cows and goats
were peacefully browsing), shaded by beech, elm, chestnut, and apple
trees, and skirted by softly-swelling banks, covered with a rich and
mossy vegetation. The blue smoke wreath, frequently rising above the
tufted foliage, marked the vicinity of hamlets, and the little orchards
and inclosed patches of well-cultivated garden ground (seen here and
there), and the groups of women spinning at their cottage doors, gave
the whole an indescribable air of pastoral comfort and beauty. In the
midst of this serene enjoyment, my nerves were suddenly discomposed, by
the fall of our postillion from his horse, who had stumbled, and now
took the opportunity (during his short interval of emancipation) of
looking in at the side window of the carriage; the last place certainly
in which I either wished or expected to have seen him. However, no harm
ensued, and we again proceeded quietly on our way. We could not but
remark the extraordinary luxuriance of the hedges here, rich in nut
trees, brilliant scarlet berries, convolvulus, blue bells, and other
wild plants. The master of the post-house in the midst of these
mountains seemed a great admirer of the magnificent genius of Napoleon,
and said (speaking of the tunnel we had lately passed), _que cet homme
la avoit bravè la nature_: he added, "that if he had reigned only two
years longer, he would have completed this grand undertaking; but now
all was at an end; for the king of Sardinia was not the sort of person
to carry on the daring plans of his great predecessor." The manner in
which this man described Bonaparte to have first conceived and
determined upon the work in question was strongly characteristic of the
decision peculiar to the latter. He was passing through the ancient
horrible road, with his engineer, stopped, and pointing to the
mountains, said, "Is it not possible to cut a tunnel through the
entrails of yonder rock, and to form a more safe and commodious route
beneath it?"--"It is _possible_, certainly, sire," replied the
scientific companion. "Then let it be done, and immediately," rejoined
the emperor.

I was romantic enough to mourn over the fate of the mountain stream
here, which (in common with many others we had seen) was so weakened by
long drought, that it had scarcely force sufficient to pour its scanty
waters over their rugged channel, and seemed to vent its complaint in
weak murmurs, as it flowed feebly along. The grand cascade, which feeds
its urn so nobly during winter, had now lost all strength and
magnificence of character. We felt the air very sharp, even in this
sultry season; and in the bleak months of the year I can easily conceive
that the severity of the cold must be intolerable. The grapes in such
regions are always small and sour; they were not half ripe at the
present time, and, indeed, never arrive at any perfection.

We breakfasted at _La Poste_ at Chamberry, a picturesque town, and
capital of Savoy, situated in the bosom of the fine scenery I have just
described. The tops of its surrounding mountains (which form part of the
endless chain of Alps) are hoary with eternal snows: they had a very
striking effect. It was at Chamberry that that strange, inconsistent,
wonderful creature, Rousseau, lived for some time with Madame de
Varennes: his house is still shewn. The charm which, while he lived, he
contrived to throw around the vices and frailties of his character, and
the productions of his bewitching pen, is now broken, the spell is
dissolved; but there are, nevertheless, immortal excellencies in many
parts of his writings which must make their due and deep impression upon
the hearts and imaginations of every successive reader, till time itself
shall be no more.

To return to Chamberry. There is no peculiarity of costume here, except
that the _paysannes_ all wear gold hearts and crosses; the poorer
classes of silver, lead, or mixed metal. We changed horses at
Montmeillant, and saw the fine river Isere, formed by the melting of the
snows. The same sort of grand scenery continued. There were several
charming _campagnes_ (or gentlemen's houses) amid the mountains, half
concealed by luxuriant woods. We longed to be invited (and able to
accept such invitation) to spend a fortnight at one or other of them, in
tranquillity and ease, in the society of agreeable, sensible people, who
would sometimes allow us leisure to indulge in the luxury of solitude,
and our own thoughts; for, without this latter privilege, one might just
as well be in a fashionable drawing-room, in all the sophistication of
Paris or London. It is among these scenes that Marmontel has chosen to
place his heroine in the graceful little tale of the "Shepherdess of the
Alps." But, alas! the poorer inhabitants of these fairy regions! how
unworthy of such lovely Arcadian retreats! Almost all we met were
squalid, filthy, listless, and indolent: a blighted, blasted, wretched
race, hardly deserving the name of human. Most of them were (in addition
to their universal hideousness) afflicted with the disgusting disease of
_goîtres_, to say nothing of total idiotcy, which is equally common
amongst them. Leaving Marmontel's lovely fanciful creations in the
clouds, from whence they came, these, these we found to be the "dull
realities of life;" and such realities!--my imagination actually
sickened at their idea. I will not hazard farther detail, lest I should
equally shock the feelings of my readers.

The mountains, as we approached Aiguebelle, became yet more lofty and
stupendous than any we had before seen; but they continued to wear the
same features of luxuriant beauty, even in the midst of the sublimity of
a grander scale of proportion. From their airy summits we could now and
then descry the fall of a narrow perpendicular streamlet, sparkling in
the sun like a line of melted silver. We reached Aiguebelle at four
o'clock, dined, and slept. The entrance to the inn was like that of a
cow-house, or large old rustic stable, and the accommodations within
were uncomfortable enough: not worse, however, than many which we
afterwards encountered in various places on the continent. An evening
walk, which we took here after tea, at the foot of the Alps, I shall
never forget; romantic, beautiful, and wild beyond even the dreams of a
poetical imagination. Passing through enormous masses of rock,
consisting of argillaceous slate, called _schist_, in the foreground (at
the entrance of a shadowy glade), we gradually ascended a winding path,
by which we traced an opening through the richly-wooded recesses of one
of the nearer mountains. Thick shady bowers of walnut trees (the largest
our eyes had ever beheld) formed an agreeable sort of twilight, shedding
a flickering gloom around, that well accorded with the pensive tone of
our minds, as we stole silently along, wrapt in unfeigned and warm
admiration of Nature and her wonderful creations, while a rippling
spring, murmuring softly amid the mossy grass, assisted the dreamy sort
of reverie that hung like a spell upon us! A fair green meadow lay
smiling at our feet; where notwithstanding the burning heat of the
season, the cattle were feeding on as rich a pasturage, as that which
skirts the Thames at Richmond. Far above (towering over our heads) were
the snowy peaks of the highest Alps, half veiled in clouds of floating
mist. I sat down upon a mossy stone, my companions stretched on the turf
beside me; the silent, deep, and soothing tranquillity was broken only
by the chirp of the cricket, the distant bark of a cottage cur, or the
whirring flight of the bats who now were beginning their evening
pastimes; one of them, in his airy wheel, almost brushed Mr. W.'s face
with his wings, as he flew fearlessly past. As the night advanced, we
were struck by the beautiful effect of the blazing weeds, which were
burning on some of the surrounding heights. At length we unwillingly
bade adieu to the enchanting spot, and returned to our inn.

We left Aiguebelle the next morning, rising at four o'clock, and
proceeded to St. Jean de Maurienne, through a narrow valley, inclosed
by a chain of the same mountains, which rose to the height of about two
or three thousand metres. A river, formed of melted snows, ran
constantly by our side, now brawling and foaming over the rugged stones,
now stealing silently along, in an almost imperceptible current, and
often seeming wholly exhausted, forming merely a narrow runnel in the
middle of its vast, sandy, rocky channel. Cottages were frequently
dotted about here, some of them perched at such an incredible height,
and apparently so inaccessible to human foot, that we could hardly
conceive them to be the habitations of our fellow creatures! How the
inmates continue to procure the necessaries of life from the adjacent
hamlets in the valleys below, I cannot imagine, unless they are drawn up
and down by ropes, in the manner which is so awfully described, in his
"scene on the sands," by that bold painter from nature, the author of
"the Antiquary." The singular and beautiful appearance of the opposite
rocks told us the moment when the sun had risen to a certain height, but
the first burst of glory from that divine orb, it was not our lot to
witness, as the east was hid from our sight by the overwhelming
mountains that surrounded us. I confess I was disappointed at this
circumstance, as the idea of beholding a perfect sun-rise had been the
chief inducement to me to quit my warm bed at such a preposterously
early hour, and to undergo with cheerfulness the disagreeable ceremony
of hurrying on my clothes by candlelight! However, I was in some measure
consoled by the lovely effect of the partial gleams, which played
occasionally upon the distant objects; finely contrasting with the
gloomy shadows of the dark ravines, and lighting up the spots of verdure
upon which they brightly fell, they seemed almost kindling into a blaze
of unearthly splendour. We passed here a small but romantic fall of
water; and soon afterwards encountered (in one of those narrow passes so
frequent among the Alps), and upon the brow of an abrupt descent, a
waggon, drawn by restive mules. These animals flew about the road in
every possible direction, rearing till they stood on end, kicking and
plunging in the most astonishing manner. The driver emulated their fury,
and I know not which of the parties was in the right, they were all in
such a passion together; we expected every instant to see their heels
dash against the glass of our windows, but our postillion managed with
so much skill and discretion, that we soon found ourselves safely _hors
de l'embarras_. We were somewhat surprised at his admirable coolness and
dexterity, as he was no experienced old stager, but on the contrary a
mere boy. Solomon, however, justly observes that wisdom does not
exclusively reside with white heads, as some veteran worthies have
fondly flattered themselves, and this will account for the _sagesse_ of
our little driver, which might otherwise have been discredited, perhaps,
by those, who constantly associate the ideas of youth and imprudence. I
believe that the same author goes so far as to assert, that "wisdom
giveth hoary hairs." I am not quite certain as to the accuracy of my
quotation, or I should at once feel sure that I had discovered the
reason why so many of our beaux and belles evince such a horror of
mental attainments. Talking of beaux and belles, we were now quite among
their antipodes; for never did I behold such a set of dirty, slovenly,
squalid, frightful creatures, as were perpetually crossing our path!--I
can only say, that (like Sancho Panza and his goblins) having once seen
two or three of them, I shut my eyes for the rest of the journey,
although I could not stop my ears against the horrid guttural idiotical
croak (resembling that of a choked raven) which they constantly
maintained, as they ran begging by the side of the carriage. Mr. B.
hoping to get rid of them, often threw out money from the windows, but
this only attracted a larger flock, and we soon found our sole refuge
was in pulling up the blinds the moment they appeared in sight.

We breakfasted at St. Jean de Maurienne, situated at the base of the
higher Alps: it was dirty, as all the inns in Savoy are; and they gave
us sour bread and butter, and muddled coffee, rather a mortification to
travellers, who (however romantic and enthusiastic) could not help
feeling that they should have better relished better fare, after having
gone three and twenty miles before breakfast! We met an Italian lady
here, just come from Turin; who assured us, upon our expressing our
admiration of Savoy, that we should think the scenery of Italy far more
beautiful: I could not at the moment believe in the possibility of her
assertion, and felt a presentiment that after having seen and compared
some of the most striking features in these countries, I should not
coincide with her in opinion; Italy (from all I had heard on the
subject) possessing a different character of beauty; but difference does
not constitute superiority: I should as soon think of comparing an apple
and an orange--both are good in their way. If any body takes offence at
the lowliness of my simile, I beg leave to refer him or her to that
delightful writer (at all times, and upon such various subjects),
Marmontel, who avails himself of the very same, and applies it in the
still prouder instance of human intellect.

The river Arque rushes impetuously through this part of Savoy; we passed
by a _voiture_ overturned upon its stony banks, the wheels in the air,
and front nearly touching the brink of the foaming torrent. The accident
did not seem to be a very recent one, as no people were assembled about
or near it. The Savoyards (those who are happily free from _goîtres_,
&c.) are seldom brought up to any other trade than stone masonry;
wandering about, following this _metier_ in an itinerant manner. Many of
the rustics appear well acquainted with the scientific terms of
mineralogy and chemistry. We conversed with a common cottager in
particular, who discoursed most intelligently upon the different
substances of which these mountains are composed. We suffered a good
deal of inconvenience from the dust, which flew here in such
overwhelming eddies, that it completely filled the carriage, and more
than once impeded my respiration most painfully. I could feel it
gritting between my teeth, and irritating the windpipe; and when we
attempted to close the windows against it, the heat thereby increased
became equally insupportable; the sun in these regions being so fierce
that it absolutely burnt us when we drew up the blinds: still, the
peculiar sensation of _weight_ in the atmosphere, from which we
experience so much oppression in England, seemed to be unknown in this
climate; there was an elasticity in the air, superior to any of which we
foggy islanders can boast, and the sky was perfectly Italian, of a deep
blue cloudless ether.

At St. Michel, a neat village (comparatively speaking), the peasantry
become more human; the _goître_ begins to disappear, and the countenance
to assume a more intellectual expression. Again the sublime effect of
the river Arque attracted our attention. It is a regular mountain
torrent, flashing and raving over tremendous rocks, with a rapidity and
fury difficult to describe. If it was thus mighty during the present
parching season, what must it not be in winter! The imagination shudders
at the idea of its desolating force. I could scarcely trace the affinity
of this element with the tame, slow, glassy, silent waters to which I
had been accustomed in my own country. It was like the sublime insanity
of a superb human genius, when compared with the almost vegetable
existence of a mere common plodding mortal.

The little narrow alpine bridges, occasionally thrown across this
terrific stream, were highly romantic and beautiful. At this particular
spot, dark forests of pine began to succeed to the more pleasing verdure
of the tufted beech. They extended to the remotest pinnacles of the
mountains, from whose brown sides, lower down, a number of sparkling
springs were seen to gush dancing and flashing in the sun. Great
quantities of barberry trees, and of the plant coltsfoot, were growing
wild here.

Crossing a majestic mountain beyond Modena, we were shewn the Devil's
Bridge (_note_ B.), three hundred feet above the river. We ourselves
looked proudly down upon it, from our eagle height, where we enjoyed the
benefit of a noble and easy road, made (as usual) by order of Bonaparte;
for which all travellers ought to feel deeply indebted to him. Not that
I attribute his works of this sort to benevolence rather than ambitious
policy: but whatever the cause, we _voyageurs_ have great reason to
bless the effect! The postillion seriously assured us, as we gazed upon
the above-mentioned bridge, that it was originally built by the arch
fiend, although he added, that "this had happened a great while ago."
Mr. W. attempted to laugh him out of so ridiculous a belief; but he
adhered to his point with immoveable gravity. I had always heard that
the natives of mountainous countries were peculiarly liable to the
impressions of superstition, and in this instance I had an opportunity
of proving personally the truth of the remark. We regretted that time
did not allow of our making a few more experimental researches into
these matters: it might have been very interesting to have collected a
set of legends from the mouths of the simple inhabitants; and I should
have had considerable amusement in tracing their similarity to those of
the Scotch Highlanders, the German, Swedish, and other fond believers
in romance. The king of Sardinia was at that time building fortresses
upon this mountain, and two thousand men were employed in the work.

We met some Italian officers at Modena; they were fine men, and had a
far more distinguished and gentlemanly _tournure_ than, the French. It
is astonishing how vulgar and gross in appearance and manner all the
latter were, whom we had yet had an opportunity of remarking. I had ever
thought the subalterns and captains in some of our marching and militia
regiments bad enough, but they were certainly much superior to the
French officers. This reminds me, that in our apartment at the inn at
Aiguebelle, we saw scrawled upon the walls a fierce _tirade_ (written by
some Frenchman) against that interesting work, "Eustace's Italy." We, of
course, were not much surprised at the wrath therein expressed; and I
myself think that Eustace bears evident marks of being under the
dominion of prejudice, in speaking of the French as a nation.

Crossing another mountain, not far from Lans le Bourg, we were made
doubly sensible of the prodigious altitude of our road, by comparing
the different proportions of the objects around: for instance, a
water-mill at work in the valley below us appeared like a baby-house,
and the stream which fell from the wheel not much more important than
what might have issued from a large garden watering-pot. The rocks here
were all wild, gloomy, and barren.

Arriving at Lans le Bourg, where we slept, we found the inn (_Le Grand
Hotel des Voyageurs_) clean and comfortable, which was a delightful
change to us, after the dirt and misery of those we had lately seen. It
stood a short distance beyond the little town, on the brink of a roaring
torrent. The host and his wife appeared flattered at our observation of
their neat establishment, &c., and told us that it was not the first
time their house had been complimented as being very like those in
England. The next morning we pursued our route through the same
magnificent scenes, and here we first saw a giant glacier, clad in his
spotless mantle of everlasting purity. At his feet (to give the reader
some idea of his stupendous height and magnitude) lay a town; the
steeple of its church did not appear taller than the extinguisher of a
candle, which it also resembled in shape. Amid these solitary wilds the
greatest variety of plants, flowers, &c. are to be found, and violets in
profusion during the spring. We ate some strawberries, gathered here by
the peasant children, for a large basket of which our host at Lans le
Bourg paid a sum in value rather less than three English halfpence. The
postillion and Christian gathered me large bunches of very fine wild
raspberries, as they walked up the steep ascent. We were now upon Mont
Cenis (_note_ C.), of celebrated fame. My husband collected for me a few
specimens of the lovely flowers which bloomed there, and which I have
since put by as relics. One plant in particular (wholly unknown to any
of us) I must mention. It is a poisonous but exquisitely graceful shrub,
with spiral leaves, jagged at the edges, and clusters of brilliant
scarlet berries, growing in the form of miniature bunches of grapes.
The postillion called it _la tourse_; but we did not feel quite sure of
the accuracy of his botanical knowledge. Near the summit of this
mountain we were shewn the spot where adventurous travellers sometimes
descend to the town of Lans le Bourg upon a sledge, in the short space
of seven minutes; whereas it takes two hours and a half to ascend in a
carriage, or on a mule. The precipice looked horrible beyond
description; yet the English frequently adopt this mode of conveyance
during the winter: it is called _la ramasse_, and the amusement of
sliding in cars at the _Beaujon_ and _Les Montagnes Russes_, in Paris,
was taken from this. As we continued to climb, the effect of the sheep
feeding amid the rocky ledges, upon the grassy patches of land far below
us, was curious enough. They appeared diminished to the size of those
little round, white, fat inhabitants of a nutshell, which sometimes run
races upon a china plate, or a polished mahogany table, after dinner. I
believe their names are not mentioned in the Newmarket Calender; but my
readers will know what I mean. We here beheld a fatigued pedestrian,
drawn up the steep path with much comparative ease to himself, by
clinging to the long tail of a strong mule, upon which another traveller
was riding.

The road over Mont Cenis is most superb: there are small houses at set
distances, where dwell a regularly organized body of men, called
_cantonniers_, whose business it is to keep the highway in repair, and
to shelter and assist all _voyageurs_ who may stand in need of their
services. This was first ordered and arranged by Bonaparte. Upon
reaching level ground, near the utmost summit, we were agreeably
surprised by the sight of a small lake, of the most heavenly blue (the
real ultramarine colour well known to artists), situated in the midst of
a little plain of verdant turf: it was quite a scene of peace and
repose, all view of the surrounding precipices being shut out. From this
quiet haven we descended with rapidity and ease, at the rate of seven or
eight miles an hour, with only two horses; while in going up on the
other side of the mountain, we found four unequal to drag us along at
more than a foot's pace.

We passed by the Hospice, originally built by Charlemagne, and
re-established by Bonaparte, who really put us in mind of the Marquis of
Carrabas, in the fairy tale of "Puss in Boots;" for if we saw any road
better than another, any house particularly well calculated for the
relief of travellers, any set of guides whose attendance was unusually
convenient and well ordered, or any striking improvement, in short, of
whatever nature, and were induced to inquire, "by whom all had been
done?" the answer was invariably, "Napoleon! Napoleon! Napoleon!" At
this Hospice there is a set of monks, who bear a high reputation for
benevolence and attention to travellers. A very lofty and majestic
waterfall shortly afterwards greeted our eyes, grandly beautiful, though
bearing no character of terror. It was the "roar of waters," not the
"hell of waters," so admirably described by Lord Byron, in the fourth
canto of his Childe Harold. The road here perpetually returned upon
itself, in zigzag windings, resembling the principle of a corkscrew
staircase, and was, in the midst of grandeur and sublimity, both easy
and safe.

The Alps, on the Piedmontese side of Mont Cenis, and to whose firm bases
we were now fast descending, were infinitely more stupendous, more
overwhelming in their proportions, and displayed stronger features of
actual sublimity, perhaps, than those we had seen in Savoy; but we all
thought them less rich in sylvan beauty, and far less enchantingly
romantic in their general character. Our wonder was not, as formerly,
mingled with delight; on the contrary, a shuddering sensation of horror
took possession of our minds, as we involuntarily turned our eyes upon
the various dark gulfs, and tremendous abysses, which yawned on every
side. It was impossible not to feel, at every turn, that there were but
a few inches between us and destruction. At length we reached the foot
of the celebrated Rocca Melone, or Roche Melon, which is allowed to be
the highest of the chain, and is nine thousand feet from the base to
the summit. We could now perceive a visible alteration in the costumes
of the peasantry; the men came forth in coloured silk or cotton caps,
with a long net bag hanging down behind, ending in a tassel: the women,
in flat straw hats, lined with pink sarsenet, and jackets laced in
front; exactly resembling those Italian groups of figures which I had
formerly seen in the drawings of Mr. W----m L----k. I recognised them
instantly as my old acquaintance, and felt myself in some measure _en
pays de connoissance_. Our postillion had the true features of the
Venetian Punchinello, and I almost expected to hear him squeak.

We dined at Susa (inn _la Posta_), and found it cleanly and comfortable;
the people excessively attentive and civil: in short, we looked upon it
as a most auspicious entrance into Italy. From Susa to San Giorgio our
driver was a regular Italian wag, and I suspected he had got a little
too much of the juice of the grape in his head, by the way in which he
tore along the road, to the amazement of every quiet passenger. At last
we called to him, to inquire the reason of his violent proceedings. "I
thought I was doing just what you liked best," was his answer; and it
was with difficulty we could persuade him that we were not among the
number of those English travellers who take delight in risking their own
necks, and the lives of their horses, merely for the sake of
"astonishing the natives!" This was the first and only instance of
intoxication which we had witnessed upon the continent.

The dress of the women near San Giorgio is picturesque; a short blue
petticoat, with several narrow, coloured tucks at the bottom, a high
laced cap (something in the style of the French _cauchoises_), and
bright necklaces, formed of boxwood beads, turned in an oval shape, and
highly gilt, so as to resemble massy gold. The men all wore cocked hats.
The verdure of the fields and trees here (the latter chiefly beech,
olive, and lime) was delightful, owing partly to the late rains, which
the people told us had fallen to the great refreshment of the
long-parched earth; the whole air was embalmed with the fragrance of
the limes: we had a strong sun, but at the same time, so reviving a
breeze, so soft, pure, and elastic, that I never remember to have
enjoyed any thing more, nor ever felt a greater degree of physical
animation. This sweetly-breathing wind might (by poets) have been
supposed the same which blew through the groves of Elysium. We now
passed by a fine ruin of a castle, built upon a rocky eminence, and
overhanging a brawling river. The peasantry in general were well
looking, but we still observed several _goîtres_ among them. Nothing
struck us at this time with higher astonishment than the convent of
Benedictines, an enormous, massive, dark pile of building, reared upon
the topmost height of one of the grandest mountains here, and frowning
over the valley below. I in particular remember this with the strongest
impression of wonder and admiration; it perfectly seized upon my
imagination, and involuntarily brought Mrs. Radcliffe's, and other tales
of romance, to the recollection of us all.

At St. Antonine, (I sometimes avail myself of the French names of these
places, as both French and Italian are equally used in this country), we
first saw two _paysannes_ with their hair twisted up _à l'antique_, and
in long transparent veils of black gauze, which admirably suited their
handsome dark eyes and eyebrows; this costume is sometimes worn over the
high cap, but it then loses half its graceful effect. It struck me that
if women in general were aware of the peculiar advantage and charm of a
long floating veil, which thus shades, without concealing, the features,
there would be but one style of head-dress in the world. In addition to
these bewitching veils, the country girls at this place (St. Antonine)
generally carry fans; we met several with them, made of bright pink
paper, covered with gold spangles, and it appeared to us rather an
incongruous implement in the hands of a village belle. Mass was
performing as we passed, at a church of true Grecian architecture; upon
the outside steps of which the people were kneeling with every symptom
of devotion. In going through a low valley beyond this town, narrow and
extremely confined by the tall hedge-rows, where the circulation of air
is in consequence impeded, we felt the heat almost intolerable; and the
atmosphere exactly of that heavy nature from which we have often
suffered during the summers of our own country. I must tell the truth
(as it is fit all respectable _travellers_ should do), and therefore am
compelled to confess, that in passing over the continent, I was
perpetually and forcibly struck with the defects of our English climate
when compared with others. Condemn me not, ye red-hot John Bulls!
remember that when the noble animal you resemble makes his fiercest
attacks, he always shuts his eyes, in common with every prejudiced
person.

At Rivoli, they were celebrating the fête of St. Bartholomew; many
pretty women and fine spirited-looking men were among the groups of gay
figures assembled there. The caps of the former were very remarkable,
being composed of lace in the form of a high Roman casque or helmet; and
worn over another of pink silk. The church was ornamented with flowers
and green wreaths; guns were firing, and a military procession going by
as we passed: some of the girls wore pea-green jackets and red
petticoats, some blue petticoats and white shift sleeves, and all had a
bouquet of natural flowers in their bosoms.

From Rivoli, we emerged into the fertile and widely extended plains of
Piedmont; the distant hills, richly tufted with woods, were studded
thick with white villas (or _vignes_ as they are called here), and we
now entirely lost sight of those hideous _goîtres_, which had hitherto
every now and then made their appearance, even in the midst of a
generally handsome peasantry.

The approach to Turin was highly beautiful, through a long avenue of the
finest trees; the town itself embosomed among gently rising hills, and
adorned by the river Po, glassy and smooth as a mirror, and so
transparent, that the banks and sky were reflected upon its breast,
unbroken by a single wave or ripple. The buildings are very high, many
of them extremely handsome, with white or coloured striped awnings to
every window, as a shelter from the noon-day sun. Our hotel (_Albergo
del Universo_) stood in the middle of _La Place du Chateau_, immediately
fronting the royal palace. The streets are clean, which indeed they
ought to be, since through almost all of them a stream of the purest
crystal water is perpetually flowing, contributing not a little, I
should think, to the health and comfort of the inhabitants. We found
apartments allotted to us in the _Albergo_ of great height and size,
with cove ceilings, and _en suite_; furnished with a curious mixture of
poverty and magnificence, and ornamented by some exquisite and well
chosen prints, from the designs of Poussin and other old masters; rather
in better style, it must be allowed, than those of most English inns,
where you find "Going out to hunt," "In at the death," "Matrimony and
courtship," and such things, hanging over every chimney piece. But we
found one annoyance here that almost disgusted me with Italy, in spite
of her miracles of nature and art, and brought back the remembrance of
English neatness and purity in a very forcible manner: I allude to the
circumstance of the vermin, which infest even some of their most
expensive establishments, and quite destroy the sensation of comfort.
There are other sins also in their household arrangements, which this
nation share in common with the French: suffice it to say, that both one
and the other are certainly the dirtiest race of beings I ever
encountered. I did not much like the smell of garlic, on entering our
hotel, where the host, waiters, and assistants, all puffed their _vile
rocambole breath_[5] in our face, as they bustled about, preparing for
our accommodation. Neither could I relish their method of cookery, and,
after the first trial, begged to have our future dinners drest _à la
Française_. I know not what my friend Mr. T. would say to this, who I
have heard vaunt his Piedmontese garlic truffles as one of the greatest
delicacies of the table. To do the people of this hotel justice, I
ought, however, to acknowledge that they seemed most anxious to please,
and appeared delighted when they succeeded. Nor did they attempt to
impose upon us in their charges, although they formed exceptions, in
this instance, to some other Italian innkeepers, by whom we were
considerably annoyed and disgusted; the system of cheating and
over-rating on their parts, and of shameless begging from the lower
classes, being in general carried to an astonishing excess; I must say,
that we found the French far preferable in these respects. The royal
residence here is a very magnificent and classical building, and _La
place de St. Charles_ is also very fine. The shops are universally built
beneath the refreshing shade of piazzas, which is a very necessary
circumstance, for the heat of the sun at noon would otherwise overpower
their inhabitants. No business seems to be done at that time, at the
public-offices, banking-houses, &c. Indeed the Italians say, _il n'y a
que les chiens et les Anglois qui sortent à ces heures_. We proceeded to
view the principal _lions_ the next day, and, amongst others, the
cathedral, which is a regular Grecian temple. The king's seat in a
gallery above the high altar, very splendidly adorned, but we agreed in
thinking that this style of architecture (although beautiful in itself),
was far less appropriate to a place of religious worship than the
gothic. In this opinion (which I remember to have expressed before, in
the beginning of my tour), I am not sure however, that we are not a
little tinged with the ideas of gloomy solemnity (as connected with
religion) peculiar to most of the northern nations; and I own (at all
events) that I am guilty of an inconsistency in taste, because I have
ever been a warm admirer of the bright, soft, and smiling type under
which a different mythology has represented death. The poetical
butterfly, bursting from its chrysalis, and soaring on triumphant wings
to heaven, strikes me as infinitely more rational than the horrible (and
low) taste which we have shown in selecting the skeleton as the most
proper symbol of the same great and glorious mystery! a sort of _rawhead
and bloodybone_ plan, unworthy of so enlightened a people as ourselves,
and which seems to answer no one purpose of religion or morality, if
impartially considered; but on the contrary to be well calculated to
poison the innocent minds of youth with aggravated and unnecessary
terrors, and to divert their attention from the nobler truths of
immortality!

In the evening we drove upon the Corso in a _caleche_, the same sort of
vehicle which we used while at Paris. The Corso is a pretty, cool, shady
promenade, by the side of the river Po. The upper classes of Turin take
the cool air of the evening here, every day, in their different
carriages; we observed no pedestrians above the rank of the
_bourgeoisie_. We met the king of Sardinia on horseback, not forming (as
is usual for sovereigns in England) the centre of a galaxy of stars and
ribands, but riding first, by himself, followed by an escort of five
gentlemen, among whom was his brother. He looked very earnestly into our
carriage, and returned our salutation by taking off his hat in a
graceful and courteous manner. He is a little thin man, apparently about
fifty-five, with a countenance expressive of good nature. The queen
next rolled by, attended by all her suite, in an old-fashioned heavy
coach and six, her coachman (big, fat, and important, sunk in his ample
box) and her footmen in gay scarlet liveries, gaudily laced. The
equipage altogether put me strongly in mind of that raised by the fairy
for her god-daughter Cinderella, where the coach was originally a
pumpkin, the coachman a fat hen, and the lackeys lizards! We saw shortly
afterwards, during this brilliant promenade, the prince and princess of
Carignano (who are adored by all ranks, and are continually active in
every benevolent duty), and the Spanish, Dutch, and other ambassadors.
The king shows himself to the populace in this manner every evening. We
attended the Opera at night; the price of one of the best private boxes
did not exceed twelve shillings, and the tickets of admission (being a
separate concern) were about fifteen-pence. In London one thinks a box
cheap at five guineas! The prince and princess de Carignano were
present: the theatre is called by their name, but it is not the
principal one at Turin; there being another upon a larger scale, which
was shut up during our _sejour_ at that place: it is never used but
during the carnival, or on some great occasion, in compliment to some
foreign prince. The Carignano theatre is, notwithstanding, a handsome,
spacious edifice, about the size of Drury Lane, and the scenery and
machinery carried on in far better style than with us in the Haymarket.
The drop curtain in particular caught my attention; it is an exquisite
painting, representing the Judgment of Paris, his figure beautiful and
graceful in the highest degree, and the drapery remarkably fine. The
Opera (_Il Rivale di se stesso_, by Veigi) was well got up, but we were
not much struck with the music, from the whole of which we could only
select one or two _morceaux_ to admire: there was a clever _buffo_
(_Signor Nicola Taci_), and a very agreeable _prima donna_, whose style
of singing and flexibility of voice sometimes reminded us of Catalani;
her name was _Emilia Bonini_. The ballet was extremely superior to ours
in numbers, and in minute attention to the accuracy of costume; but
there were no French dancers among them, and it is well known how
inferior in the comparison are all others. The _grotesques_, however, (a
species of dancers peculiar to Italy) were wonderful for activity and
strength: they consisted of four men and two women, who really appeared
to think the air their proper element rather than the earth; they flew
about in every possible strange attitude, but were totally devoid of
grace, to which, indeed, I believe they do not pretend. I found that I
had by some means formed a very erroneous idea of the usual conduct of
an Italian audience. I had expected to find a sort of breathless
silence, and a refinement of applause, wholly different from the
character of an English set of listeners; but on the contrary, they
clapped as loudly as any John Bulls in the world, and even hissed one of
the singers, who did not happen to please. I have subsequently mentioned
this circumstance to those who are better acquainted with the customs of
Italy, and learn that I have been quite mistaken all my life in this
respect. The house (as well as those in France) was dark as Erebus
which I cannot approve, for it evidently does not answer the purpose of
increasing the brilliancy and the illusion of the stage.

The next morning we drove to Moncallier, about six miles from Turin, to
call upon Madame N----, (an old acquaintance of our friend Mr. T.'s,)
for whom we had letters. The coachman was an insufferable gossip, and we
dreaded to ask him a question, sure that it would bring down upon us at
least a dozen long answers. We did not go to the English minister's;
that gentleman (Mr. Hill) being then absent for a fortnight at Genoa. We
therefore had not the pleasure of presenting him with those letters of
introduction to himself and other families at Turin, with which we were
furnished by the kindness of Mr. T. who was also formerly minister here,
and of whom the people still speak in those terms of enthusiastic
gratitude, which his benevolence richly deserves. It was highly pleasing
to me to listen to these details, nor were they imparted to us by one
person alone; his reputation appeared to be in the hearts and upon the
lips of every one who remembered him at all! But to return to our visit
to Madame N----: the vast expanse of fertile, fresh, and woody country
seen from the heights of Moncallier, with the Po winding in graceful
sweeps through the richest banks, is wonderfully like the prospect
boasted by Richmond Hill. I was national enough to admire it the more
upon this account, although I confess its superiority in the sublime
back ground of the distant Alps and glaciers. When arrived at the
termination of the carriage road here, we were informed of the necessity
of alighting, and of walking a short distance to the garden gate that
belonged to Madame N.'s _vigne_. This short distance proved to be
upwards of half a league (a mile and half), leading through a stony lane
of hot sand, (in which our weary feet sunk deep at every step), upon a
very long and steep ascent. The hour of noon (which I have already
mentioned to be intolerable in this country) rapidly approached, and the
scorching influence of the sun caused the drops to start from our
foreheads, and our hearts to sink within us, as we proceeded on our way;
to make the matter worse, I had attired myself that morning (little
dreaming of such a walk) in a smart Parisian costume, with a triple
flounce at the bottom of the petticoat, which by the time I had reached
the end of this lane, formed a very pretty receptacle of dust and sand,
scattering its contents most liberally upon my already blistered feet
and ancles; a pair of thin, small slippers, also, (which I unfortunately
wore) cut my insteps with their tight binding, and admitted at each step
the sharp points of flint with which our path abounded! The guide (a
bareheaded Piedmontese boy) did not understand above one word in ten of
what was said to him, either in French or Italian, speaking a wretched
and indistinct _patois_ himself, which was equally unintelligible to us.
He was a lively, arch little fellow, however, and made some amends for
having seduced us into attempting the walk, by his encouraging signs
that we should soon arrive at its termination. Indeed it would have been
useless to have gone back, as we had already advanced so far upon our
way; and there was no possibility of reaching the house but on foot. I
reproached him several times for replying only "_No_, _Signora_," when I
asked if such and such gates belonged to the _vigne_ we were seeking;
and could not help smiling at his desiring me to take courage, for that
in a few minutes he should leave off saying "_No_, _Signora_," and be
able to please me better by "_Eccola_, _Signora_:" at length we reached
the goal, and upon ringing, were ushered by two servant girls in their
_paysanne_ costumes, amid the barking of wondering dogs, into a romantic
garden, where flowers, fruit, vegetables, and grapes, all flourished
together without any attempt at regularity, forming a singular and most
agreeable melange. This _vigne_ commanded an exquisite and extensive
prospect of the plains of Piedmont, and the distant mountains. A grave,
respectable _femme de chambre_ now made her appearance, and speaking in
English, conducted us into the house, where in a few minutes Madame N.
herself received us with a degree of frank politeness, and a warm and
unaffected hospitality of manner, which was extremely pleasant to meet
with, and quite a novelty to those who like ourselves had been
accustomed to the reserve (I may say ultra-reserve) of many
Englishwomen. Both mistress and maid (the latter personage
above-mentioned having lived with Madame N. ever since she was a girl)
had a foreign accent and idiom, in speaking our language, although they
were really of English birth, and had passed their youth in the county
of Suffolk or Norfolk, I forget which. We were much struck with the
difference of this little country house from those to which we had been
used in England, it bore so completely the Italian character; all the
rooms were in _demi jour_, having the _jalousies_ closed, to shield them
from the sun at this sultry time of the day: marble in profusion
rendered their appearance doubly cool, brick floors and light green
stucco walls, still preserving the air of a cottage residence, in which
an English eye is surprised at meeting the former costly material. A few
beautiful frescos, and water-coloured drawings of mountain scenery,
evidently from the hand of a master, a gaily painted ceiling, and a
guitar thrown carelessly upon a pianoforte, told us we were in the land
of the arts. Passing into the small dining-room, opening upon the
garden, through a porch thickly shaded with vines, we saw the table
ready laid for dinner, to which we were cordially intreated to remain:
it was entirely covered with large vine leaves, spread upon the white
cloth, and amid which we perceived wooden spoons and forks, in a true
Arcadian style. Nothing could have a cooler or more refreshing effect
than this verdant board prepared for

    "----all those rural messes,
    Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses."

We were not, however, at liberty to accept Madame N.'s invitation to
share her simple meal, having left our friend waiting dinner for us at
Turin. She told us of a late visit she had been making to the mountains:
their party consisted of a few intimate friends, who, joining in a sort
of gipseying scheme, hired lodgings for three weeks, at the humble
cottage of one of the poor inhabitants of these remote and solitary
regions. They carried their own cooking utensils, some provisions, and a
complete set of common earthen-ware dishes, plates, wooden spoons,
knives and forks, &c. These they presented to their host at parting,
whose gratitude and delight at the splendid gift, she said, were
unbounded. He repeatedly exclaimed, "too much! this is too much! what
beautiful things! they are far too good for me!" Their value in toto was
about five English shillings; but this unsophisticated child of nature,
used to every sort of privation, knowing but few wants, and totally
ignorant of the customs and habits of the rest of the world, really
imagined that it was a princely donation. The manners of the people in
these wild mountains are primitive beyond all conception, and their
morals so pure, their affections so warm, and their language so artless
and unrestrained, that they seemed as if just fresh from the hand of the
Creator in the beginning of the world! Altogether they had made such a
strong and touching impression on Madame N.'s mind (who is herself the
purest and most romantic child of nature), that she said she should
regret their society, and remember their singular virtues and innocence
as long as she lived. The advocates for the doctrine of original
depravity, and who deny that man is rendered vicious chiefly by
circumstances, might have been somewhat staggered in this "plain tale,"
so truly calculated to "put them down."

Speaking of the Italian character, and more particularly of their
excellence in the fine arts, she confirmed the truth of what so many
accurate and enlightened observers have remarked, namely, "that the
genius of an Italian is so peculiarly indigenous to his native soil, so
intimately and vitally dependant upon the favouring and animating breath
of his own ardent clime, as to faint, droop, and often wholly to wither,
in the chilling atmosphere of foreign lands!" Like the giant son of the
earth, who wrestled with Hercules, his power, his very existence, is
drawn wholly from thence. Madame de Staël, in her Corinne (that work,
whose kindling eloquence, depth of feeling, inimitable powers of
language, and historical truth, as a portrait of Italy, is so
universally admired by the best judges of excellence, and so clamoured
against by the tasteless and ignorant cavillers of the day), has
forcibly illustrated this truth; as has also Canova, in his own person.
Madame N. related an answer which the latter made to Bonaparte (who had
sense and elevation enough to appreciate this modern Praxiteles as he
deserved), upon being reproached for indolence, and want of professional
exertion while at Paris: "Emperor!--Canova cannot be Canova but in his
native Italy; she is the source of his inspiration; his powers are
palsied in the separation!"

We walked in the garden of this pretty _vigne_, after having partaken of
the refreshment of fruit and wine and water within, and were surprised
at the bruised and battered appearance of the grapes; they had been all
nearly destroyed a short time before, by a violent storm of hail; the
congealed drops of this destructive element being larger than a small
bird's egg, or a gooseberry! What a scourge to the poorer classes,
whose only wealth frequently consists in their vineyards! (_note_ D).

We now took leave of our friendly, though new, acquaintance; who, not
satisfied with having pressed us to pass a few days with her here, also
offered us the use of her winter residence in Turin, if we had staid
longer, assuring us we should find it more comfortable than a hotel.
Before I quit her, however, I should mention the curious difference
which she pointed out to us, in the necessary expenses of an Italian and
an English domestic establishment: the comforts, and even luxuries, of
the former clime being obtained at so much more reasonable a price than
those of the latter, as to seem almost incredible. She told me, that for
five or six hundred a year a person might keep two houses (one in Turin,
and one in the country), a carriage, a box at the Opera, an appropriate
table, and be able to receive friends under his roof with perfect ease.
Further up, among the more retired mountains, and relinquishing the
accommodation of a carriage, you might live most comfortably (although,
of course, upon a very small scale of establishment) for fifty pounds
per annum. She added, that in her own case, an income which gave her the
reputation of a "rich widow" in Turin, would not purchase her a decent
roof, and bread and cheese, in London. I have no means of ascertaining
that this statement is correct, or exaggerated; I merely relate the
circumstance. We found our friend, Mr. W., in expectation of our return,
at the hotel:

    "We entered,
    And dinner was served as we came;"[6]

for which we had a better appetite than could have been imagined, after
all our fatigues. The heat of the weather would not admit of our going
out till the evening had considerably advanced, when we again drove
about the town. The waiter (who, by the way, was one of the best looking
of his kind we had seen, being particularly remarkable for the elegant
expression of his countenance (if I may apply that word to one in his
rank of life), as well as the regularity of his truly Grecian features),
told us, that the late summer had been the most sultry that the people
of Turin were able to remember; and that he himself had found the heat
so unusually oppressive, that he had hardly been able to taste food
during the time of its continuance. Having occasion to write letters
this evening, we sent for materials, and by the appearance of the golden
sand which was brought to us, thought the river Pactolus ran through the
town instead of the Po. Ice is used in profusion here, in the
preparation of almost every beverage; and there are large meadows
overflowing with the clearest streams of water, kept solely for this
purpose. We went into a bookseller's shop during our stay, where we were
agreeably surprised by seeing a translation of Rob Roy upon the table,
which we were assured was much relished in Italy, and was extremely
popular. A proof (if any were wanting) of the intrinsic excellence of
the work, even considered without reference to its merits as a mere
national picture. We observed also a sermon, which had been preached
upon the death of our lamented Princess Charlotte; the style, as I
slightly turned over the leaves, appeared highly pathetic, and the
expressions of pity and regret very forcible and natural. It was
altogether a tender and soothing gratification to our feelings as
natives of England.

Priestcraft struck us to be the staple trade of the place; the swarms of
dismal, sly-looking, vulgar figures, in their black formal costume, were
beyond all belief, and the idea of a flight of ravens came into my head
every time I saw them. Passing by the market, we were astonished at the
quantities of peaches exposed for sale. They are as common in Italy as
potatoes with us. Some small ones of an inferior sort were then selling
at the price of four or five English halfpence for three pounds weight
of fruit. We went the next day, in the cool of the evening, to drive, as
usual, about the environs, and intended to have called upon the Marquise
d'A----(_née d'A._), for whom we had letters of introduction; but were
prevented by a violent and sudden storm of rain, thunder, and lightning.
The effect of its coming on was wonderfully grand and beautiful; a
painter would have been in ecstasies; and we were highly interested in
the sight. Looking back upon Turin, we beheld the town, and the
conspicuous convent of Capucins, their white walls starting luminously
forth from a background of lowering clouds of a purple hue, indicative
of the gathering tempest, which in a few moments darkened into the most
awful gloom that can be imagined. We put up the hood and leather apron
of the carriage, and drove rapidly homewards, while the clouds burst
over our heads, and the rain descended in absolute sheets of water. We
could not help being delighted with the refreshing change. If
Pythagoras's doctrine is true, I am convinced I must formerly have been
a duck; for never creature of that nature enjoyed the sort of thing more
than myself. The lightning continued for nearly an hour, accompanied by
tremendous bursts of thunder, louder than the loudest artillery, the
wind howling at the same moment as if in the depth of winter, which,
joined to the constant rushing sound of the rain falling from the
projecting roofs and broad water-spouts of the surrounding buildings,
formed the most sublime concert of wild sounds that I ever heard. We
were told that storms are almost always thus violent in the near
neighbourhood of the Alps.

Before I quit the subject of Turin, there are a few more observations,
which, however desultory, I will not withhold, although they sometimes
may relate to things which we did not ourselves see, owing to the
extreme heat of the weather, and the shortness of our stay. Among these
is the church of the Superga, which I advise every traveller to visit,
knowing how amply his trouble would be repaid by the very noble view
that it affords, and the peculiar interest and magnificence of the
structure itself. In a clear day the spire of the cathedral of Milan may
be discerned from thence, at the distance of eighty miles. To inspect
the convent, in all its details, it is necessary for ladies to procure
previously an order from the archbishop of Turin.

[Illustration: _London, Published by I, Murray, 1819._
VIEW of TURIN.]

The Colline de Turin, in addition to its natural beauties, presents two
other objects worthy of being seen: the Vigne de la Reine (a very
elegant little summer retreat), and the picturesque and romantic
convent, which is the burying-place of the knights of the supreme order
of the Annunciade, in the neighbourhood of which are found considerable
masses of that fibrous schist, called asbestos.

Bonaparte, it must be allowed, has made considerable amends for the
mischief which his army occasioned at Turin, by the handsome bridge he
caused to be built in place of a miserable wooden one, and by weeding
the country of its too numerous monastic institutions, a few of which
only have been restored by the present government. As the seeds of
revolutionary principles are apt to retain their vital heat, even when
apparently crushed beneath the foot of power, one cannot be surprised
that a good deal of unpopularity attends the present sovereign among
certain classes. But his truly paternal government is nevertheless
cherished with affection by many, as the following fact clearly proves,
which I learned from the most indisputable authority. There existed an
_impôt_, highly profitable to the revenue, but which the king believed
to be vexatious and unpopular. He was accordingly taking measures to
repeal it, when, unexpectedly, he received addresses from different
parts of the country, expressive of their conviction that this resource
to the revenue was necessary; and such was their confidence in the
certainty of his majesty's relinquishment of it, the moment the
situation of the finances would allow him to do so without
inconvenience, that they were content willingly to submit to it until
that period arrived.

We regretted not being able to visit Genoa, the magnificence of which
city, and its beautiful bay (the latter hardly inferior to that of
Naples), is much talked of. With respect to this portion of his
Sardinian majesty's new subjects, we were told that a considerable time
will be necessary to reconcile them to the loss of their independence.

We should have been glad to have availed ourselves (as I said before) of
our letters of introduction to Mr. Hill, had he been at Turin, as we had
heard much of the affable and amiable manners of the Piedmontese
nobility. I have, indeed, always understood that they were remarkable
for quickness and penetration. These latter qualities distinguish their
diplomacy at the several courts of Europe. From the abominable _patois_
which they speak, I should think both gentlemen and ladies must be
singularly clever and engaging, to rise superior to such a disadvantage:
it seems to be a corruption of French and Italian, and to spoil both.
They say, however, that it is very expressive: all ranks are much
attached to it, and (strange to relate) it is spoken at court, French
being only adopted when foreigners are present.

In this threshold of Italy, one expects to find a considerable progress
in the arts, nor were we disappointed. Painting, sculpture, orfévrerie,
music, &c. have attained to a very fair and reasonable height, and some
of their manufactures are particularly good; especially where silk (the
great riches of the country) is employed. Their damasks for hangings are
beautiful, both for patterns and colour. They are the common furniture
of all their best apartments, and exceedingly cheap; one third perhaps
of what they could be manufactured for in England, whither their raw
silk is sent every year to an immense amount, and under a no less
immense duty; a certain proportion of it is requisite to mix up with our
Bengal silks. The light gauzes manufactured at Chamberry are a very
elegant and favourite article of dress.

Several of the English nobility have been educated at the university of
Turin, which used to be the most considerable in Italy; the system of
education having been carried on in a most liberal and gentlemanly
style. There is a remarkable and interesting little protestant colony,
which also deserves mention,--the Vaudois, who, surviving the cruel
persecutions of the dark ages of the church, have for many centuries
(certainly before the twelfth) preserved their existence in the midst of
this catholic country, and within thirty miles of its capital. They are
a very quiet, moral, and industrious people. They owe their ease and
safety to the protection of some of the protestant powers, and
especially that of Great Britain, whose minister is particularly
instructed to attend to their interests, and to their enjoyment of the
toleration that is allowed them; they are, like our catholics, deprived
of many privileges; but lately his present majesty has consented to
allow a salary to their priests. Cromwell supported these people with
peculiar energy.

We left Turin the next morning. The fresh and balmy spirit of the air
was delightful, and we had a glorious view of the glaciers which hem in
this fair city, the new-risen sun shining brightly upon their snowy and
fantastic summits: the host went by, in early procession; all the people
as it passed dropped on their knees, in the dirt of the street, and
devoutly made the sign of the cross. We met two friars, whose
picturesque and really dignified appearance formed a great contrast to
the demure, fanatical, formal-looking priests, whom we had hitherto seen
in all quarters of the town. These friars were complete models for a
painter; their bare feet in sandals, rosary and gold cross by their
side, superb grey polls and beards; the latter "streaming like meteors
to the troubled air." We now paid toll at the first turnpike we had
seen during the last seven hundred miles. I believe I have before
mentioned that it was Bonaparte who abolished this troublesome system,
and who really seems to have favoured the interests of travellers in
every respect. The cottages in this neighbourhood were pretty, and many
of the little porches and doors were overgrown with the broad verdant
leaves of the pumpkin, whose orange-coloured blossoms had a remarkably
gay and rich effect.

At Settimo we saw a beautiful girl, with the true Grecian line of
feature, long oval cheek, dark pale skin (fine and smooth as marble or
ivory), curled red lips, with long cut black eyes and straight eyebrows;
her profile was not unlike that of Mrs. E., so celebrated in her day for
regularity of outline.

Between Settimo and Chivasco we passed over a curious bridge, formed of
planks, thrown across four boats, which were fixed immoveably in the
river, by strong cords fastened to posts. The shape of these boats, and
also of many we observed upon the Po, resembled that of an Indian
canoe. The turnpike was a little thatched hut, erected upon the middle
of this bridge. Refusing to comply with the importunities of an old
Italian beggar woman here, she poured forth a volume of various
maledictions upon us; being not at all inferior in this sort of
eloquence to the amazons of our St. Giles's or Billingsgate.

The money (gold coins, I mean) of Italy are of very pure metal, without
alloy; you may (as a proof of it) bend them into any shape with the
fingers.

An accident happened to us near Rondizzone, which was rather alarming,
but happily passed over without any serious consequences. The bridle of
the centre horse breaking, we were violently run away with by the
hot-headed animals; nor could the postillion stop them by any effort.
This was rendered more distressing by the circumstance of our going down
a steep hill at the moment. We called out repeatedly, and waved our
hands for assistance to one or two peasants who were passing, making
signs for them to catch the bridle, if possible; but they seemed to turn
a deaf ear to our entreaties, never offering to make the smallest
attempt to relieve us. By the time we reached the bottom of the hill,
however, which was fortunately a long one, the creatures felt tired, and
stopped of themselves.

At Cigliano we took a _dejeuné_ at _L'Albergo Reale_, and while it was
preparing, stood in the open gallery on the outside of the house,
gathering from a vine, which overshadowed it, the most delicious
Frontigniac grapes that I ever remember to have tasted: indeed their
flavour was exquisite, but the people did not appear to think them of
any particular value, leaving them freely to the attacks of every
traveller. Here we first drank the _vino d'Asti_, a light wine of the
country, which we thought extremely pleasant, tasting like the best
sweet cyder. I formerly thought that the flies of this country would
probably be much of the same sort as those in England; but they turned
out far more impertinently troublesome, inflicting their tiny torments
without mercy, being equally obnoxious to man and beast; a true
impudent, blood-sucking race! This reminds me, that under the head of
_vermin_, I ought to have recorded a disagreeable surprise felt by Mr.
B. at the Opera at Turin: feeling something tickle his forehead, he put
up his hand, and caught hold of a monstrous black spider, at least four
inches in circumference. The people at the hotel, to whom we related the
circumstance, said it was rather an uncommon thing, but which sometimes
occurred. The country, since we turned our backs upon Turin, was
monotonous, and only relieved by the chain of Alps in the distance.

At San Germano we observed a very graceful costume among the peasant
girls, and women of all ages; those who were advanced to extreme old age
still continuing it without any variation. I allude to the wearing
silver pins or bodkins in the hair behind, the long tresses of which are
tied together with a narrow black riband, and divided into two braids.
These are then coiled into a round shape at the back of the head, and
fastened to the roots of the hair by these ornamental pins, which are
about a finger in length, and have large heads, like beads. Their points
form the radii of a circle, and are plainly discovered amid the shadowy
locks which they thus support. The landscape here was flat and
uninteresting; but we remarked a great deal of pasture land. The trees
chiefly consisted of stunted willows, planted in straight lines. There
were no villas, or even hamlets, to be seen, and the _tout ensemble_ was
almost as tame and as ugly as that of the Netherlands. The first dulcet
notes of true Italian music, we heard at Vercelli: a baker's wife, who
lived next door to the _Albergo della Posta_ (where we stopped to change
horses), sat working and singing in her shop. It was the most elegant,
yet simple, air imaginable, and her voice possessed the soft mellifluous
tones of a faint but mellow flute. She had a peculiar ease and
flexibility also in the execution of several charming and brilliant
little graces, which delighted me. I thought it was extremely improbable
that this woman could have had the advantage of a master in the art; and
yet her style was finished in the most perfect sense of the word; being
simple, yet refined; pathetic, yet chastely ornamented. She was plain in
face and person; but her lips half open looked almost pretty, as she
emitted these sweet sounds, without discomposing a muscle. An effect was
thus produced, without effort or instruction, which is frequently denied
in our country to the pupils of the most celebrated teachers, although
every exertion has been cheerfully and indefatigably made, both by
master and scholar. But there is no convincing some people that there
are things which are not to be taught. Had I a daughter, I would never
allow her the assistance of a music master until I perceived, by
unequivocal tokens, that nature had qualified her to do credit to his
instructions; and hence waste of time, patience, temper, and money,
would be avoided. My baker's wife I shall never forget; and if her
example would have opened the eyes of half the world in England (who
really seem to be music-mad in the present age), I wish that she had had
an opportunity of exhibiting her gift, and of mortifying the silly
ambition, while she soothed the ears of them all. How have I smiled to
see people toiling to acquire the knowledge of composition and thorough
base, when I have been certain that they have not possessed a spark of
native genius to enable them to make any use of these rules after all.
Prometheus formed an image, but it was only fire from heaven that could
make that image man!

The costume of the women at Vercelli became still more picturesque than
those of San Germano, as the bodkins which the former wore were much
handsomer, some being of silver filligree, and others of silver gilt,
the heads worked and embossed with great taste and richness. We saw
large fields of rice here; this grain has a singular appearance,
something between the barley and oat: when viewed closely, it has about
twelve ears upon each stalk. The hedges by the road side were of a
species of acacia, forming a very graceful foliage, but not growing to
any height or size. I got out of the carriage to examine the manner in
which the women inserted the pretty ornaments I have just described
into their hair. I found them (like the French _paysannes_) extremely
courteous and frank in their manners, and they seemed flattered by the
attention their costume had excited. An old man stood by, holding the
hands of his two little grand-children; he observed (in the usual
_patois_) that they were beautiful rogues, and he was right, for I have
seldom seen sweeter children; very dark, with the bright yet soft black
eye peculiar to Italians, and which both Sir W. Jones and Lord Byron,
catching the poetical idea of the eastern writers, have so happily
defined, (or rather painted) by a comparison with that of the roe or
gazelle. One of these darlings had wavy curls of the darkest auburn
hair. What a pity that such lovely cherubim faces and silken locks
should not have been kept free from dirt and----worse than dirt! but it
is always the case here, the poorer classes are invariably filthy.

The same tiresome and tame style of country continued until we reached
Novara; where we dined and slept at _l'Albergo d'Italia_. The latter was
a horrible-looking place; my heart sank within me, as we drove into the
court, for if I was so bitten by the bugs, &c. at the superb albergo of
Turin, I naturally conceived I should have been quite devoured here!
This was a striking proof, however, of the truth of that moral axiom,
which tells us, "it is not good to judge of things at first sight," and
also that it is absurd to consider them on the dark side, since at this
same inn we found every comfort: the dinner was served in a cleanly
manner (the knives, forks, and spoons were really washed), and we
enjoyed a night of calm repose, undisturbed by vermin of any sort. The
gentlemen went in the evening to an Italian comedy, at the theatre here,
which was a neat building, entirely fitted up with private boxes and a
parterre, the scenery and costumes far above mediocrity, and the
orchestra very tolerable; but the length of the Italian dialogues, and
the unnatural bombast of the actor's delivery, soon fatigued their
attention and exhausted their patience, and they were glad to return
home to indulge unrestrained an overwhelming propensity to sleep. The
women at Novara were much better looking than any we had yet seen in
this country; the custom of gently parting the hair upon the forehead,
_à la Madonna_, finishing with a soft ringlet behind each ear, and the
longer tresses confined in an antique knot, gave an air of infinite
grace to the head and throat, and appeared to us to be in far better
taste than that of the French, which strains up the long hair to the
crown of the head, rendering the forehead quite bald, save at the
temples, where a lank straggling greasy curl always is left hanging down
upon the cheek, which has a formal and unbecoming effect. Apropos to
personal charm, I was assured before our departure from England (by an
amateur artist of high genius and feeling, and who had lived for years
in different parts of Italy), that we should find there a small number
of what are generally called "pretty women," in comparison with what we
had been used to see in our own country; but that when real Italian
beauty was occasionally encountered, it was of that decided and
exquisite nature, as to be infinitely superior to any which England's
daughters can boast. Even my slight experience has perfectly convinced
me of the truth of the remark. I am national enough to be sorry for it,
but it cannot be helped; we must submit to this mortification of our
vanity, and if we do it with a good grace, may probably find that
quality _plus belle encore que la beauté_ of power to captivate, where
regularity of feature has failed. The first stage of our journey the
next day did not afford us any relief from the insipidity of country of
which we had complained since leaving Turin. We saw here (as in most
parts of the continent) large tracts planted with corn, here called
_melliga_, and remarked a good deal of meadow land; but we did not once
taste cream either in Italy or France (except at Samer, and afterwards
at Quillacq's hotel at Calais, when we were treated with a few spoonfuls
in our tea of a rich sort of milk which boasted that name), nor was
Paris itself exempt from the want of it. This wearying sameness in the
landscape was at length agreeably broken by the prospect of a vast
common, where the purple heath-flower, with which it was entirely
covered, wet with dew, gleamed like an amethyst in the morning sun. Yet
even here, I missed the gay variety of the bright golden broom, which
invariably is found upon our commons at home--Home! the term always
makes my heart throb with pleasure and pride; I know not why, but at
that moment its idea rose in vivid strength before me, softened and
beautified by the colours with which memory never fails to adorn a
beloved object in absence. I felt (and my companions warmly participated
in my sentiments) that our dear little island had charms of a different
nature, but in no way inferior, to those even of this favoured land, so
celebrated, so enthusiastically vaunted, by the poet and the painter. I
felt (and what Englishwoman ought not to feel?) that I could truly
exclaim in apostrophizing my native country,

    "Where'er I go, whatever realms I see,
    My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee."

And yet, reader, we were no _bigots_ in the cause, for we could discern
foreign excellence and deeply feel it, and we could perceive where
England's faults lay, could acknowledge those faults, and wish that they
were rectified; and this, I am sorry to say, is not always the case with
our countrymen, many of whom have listened to all commendations of other
nations, as if they were so many insults offered to our own. It seems
wonderful that such feelings should in these enlightened days exist
among persons who are not actually fools, nor of that class of society
in which a want of education necessarily induces ignorance and
prejudice; yet so it is, unfortunately, as it has more than once been my
lot to witness.

We now passed the river Tessin, by means of a bridge of boats. It was
much impaired in beauty and force, by the heat of the late season, but
we could easily imagine that in general its portion of both must be
extreme. Bonaparte had begun to build a fine and permanent bridge across
it, but fate intervened, and it is left unfinished, like his own
eventful history.

At Buffalore, the 

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