Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 15

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You reſtleſs iſlanders, who are continually racking imagination to perfect the art of moving from one place to another, and who can drop aſleep in a carriage and wake at an hundred mile diſtance, have no notion of all the difficulties of a day's journey here. In the firſt place, all the horſes of private perſons have been taken for the uſe of the army, and thoſe for hire are conſtantly employed in going to the camp—hence, there is a difficulty in procuring horſes. Then a French carriage iſ never in order, and in France a job is not to be done juſt when you want it—ſo that there is often a difficulty in finding vehicles. Then there is the difficulty of paſſports, and the difficulty of gates, if you want to depart early. Then the difficulties of patching harneſs on the road, and, above all, the inflexible ſang froid of drivers. All theſe thingſ conſidered, you will not wonder that we came here a day after we intended, and arrived at night, when we ought to have arrived at noon. —The carriage wanted a trifling repair, and we could get neither paſſports nor horſes. The horſes were gone to the army—the municipality to the club—and the blackſmith was employed at the barracks in making a patriotic harangue to the ſoldiers.—But we at length ſurmounted all theſe obſtacles, and reached this place laſt night.

The road between Arras and Liſle is equally rich with that we before paſſed, but is much more diverſified. The plain of Lens is not ſuch a ſcene of fertility, that one forgets it has once been that of war and carnage. We endeavoured to learn in the town whereabouts the column waſ erected that commemmorates that famous battle, [1648.] but no one ſeemed to know any thing of the matter. One who, we flattered ourſelves, looked more intelligent than the reſt, and whom we ſuppoſed might be an attorney, upon being aſked for this ſpot—(where, added Mr. de ____, by way of aſſiſting his memory, "le Prince de Conde ſ'eſt battu ſi bien,")—replied, "Pour la bataille je n'en ſais rien, mais pour le Prince de Conde il y a deja quelque tems qu'il eſt emigre—on le dit a Coblentz."* After this we thought it in vain to make any farther enquiry, and continued our walk about the town.

*"Where the Prince of Conde fought ſo gallantly."—"As to the battle I know nothing about the matter; but for the Prince of Conde he emigrated ſome time ſince—they ſay he is at Coblentz."

Mr. P____, who, according to French cuſtom, had not breakfaſted, took a fancy to ſtop at a baker's ſhop and buy a roll. The man beſtowed ſo much more civility on us than our two ſols were worth, that I obſerved, on quitting the ſhop, I was ſure he muſt be an Ariſtocrate. Mr. P____, who is a warm Conſtitutionaliſt, diſputed the juſtice of my inference, and we agreed to return, and learn the baker's political principles. After aſking for more rolls, we accoſted him with the uſual phraſe, "Et vous, Monſieur, vous etes bon patriote?"—"Ah, mon Dieu, oui, (replied he,) il faut bien l'etre a preſent."*

*"And you, Sir, are without doubt, a good patriot?"—"Oh Lord, Sir, yes; one's obliged to be ſo, now-a-days."

Mr. P____ admitted the man's tone of voice and countenance as good evidence, and acknowledged I was right.—It is certain that the French have taken it into their heads, that coarſeneſs of manners is a neceſſary conſequence of liberty, and that there is a kind of leze nation in being too civil; ſo that, in general, I think I can diſcover the principles of ſhopkeepers, even without the indications of a melancholy mien at the aſſignats, or lamentations on the times.

The new doctrine of primeval equality has already made ſome progreſs. At a ſmall inn at Carvin, where, upon the aſſurance that they had every thing in the world, we ſtopped to dine, on my obſerving they had laid more covers than were neceſſary, the woman anſwered, "Et les domeſtiques, ne dinent ils pas?"—"And, pray, are the ſervants to have no dinner?"

We told her not with us, and the plates were taken away; but we heard her muttering in the kitchen, that ſhe believed we were ariſtocrates going to emigrate. She might imagine alſo that we were difficult to ſatiſfy, for we found it impoſſible to dine, and left the houſe hungry, notwithſtanding there was "every thing in the world" in it.

On the road between Carvin and Liſle we ſaw Dumouriez, who is going to take the command of the army, and has now been viſiting the camp of Maulde. He appears to be under the middle ſize, about fifty years of age, with a brown complexion, dark eyes, and an animated countenance. He was not originally diſtinguiſhed either by birth or fortune, and haſ arrived at his preſent ſituation by a concurrence of fortuitouſ circumſtances, by great and various talents, much addreſs, and a ſpirit of intrigue. He is now ſupported by the prevailing party; and, I confeſs, I could not regard with much complacence a man, whom the machinations of the Jacobins had forced into the miniſtry, and whoſe hypocritical and affected reſignation has contributed to deceive the people, and ruin the King.

Liſle has all the air of a great town, and the mixture of commercial induſtry and military occupation gives it a very gay and populouſ appearance. The Lillois are highly patriotic, highly incenſed againſt the Auſtrians, and regard the approaching ſiege with more contempt than apprehenſion. I aſked the ſervant who was making my bed this morning, how far the enemy was off. "Une lieue et demie, ou deux lieues, a moinſ qu'ils ne ſoient plus avances depuis hier,"* repled ſhe, with the utmoſt indifference.—I own, I did not much approve of ſuch a vicinage, and a view of the fortifications (which did not make the leſs impreſſion, becauſe I did not underſtand them,) was abſolutely neceſſary to raiſe my drooping courage.

*"A league and a half, or two leagues; unleſs, indeed, they have advanced ſince yeſterday."

This morning was dedicated to viſiting the churches, citadel, and Colliſee (a place of amuſement in the manner of our Vauxhall); but all theſe things have been ſo often deſcribed by much abler pens, that I cannot modeſtly pretend to add any thing on the ſubject.

In the evening we were at the theatre, which is large and handſome; and the conſtant reſidence of a numerous garriſon enables it to entertain a very good ſet of performers:—their operas in particular are extremely well got up. I ſaw Zemire et Azor given better than at Drury Lane.—In the farce, which was called Le Francois a Londres, was introduced a character they called that of an Engliſhman, (Jack Roaſtbeef,) who payſ his addreſſes to a nobleman's daughter, in a box coate, a large hat ſlouched over his eyes, and an oaken trowel in his hand—in ſhort, the whole figure exactly reſembling that of a watchman. His converſation iſ groſs and ſarcaſtic, interlarded with oaths, or relieved by fits of ſullen taciturnity—ſuch a lover as one may ſuppoſe, though rich, and the choice of the lady's father, makes no impreſſion; and the author haſ flattered the national vanity by making the heroine give the preference to a French marquis. Now there is no doubt but nine-tenths of the audience thought this a good portraiture of the Engliſh character, and enjoyed it with all the ſatiſfaction of conſcious ſuperiority.—The ignorance that prevails with regard to our manners and cuſtoms, among a people ſo near us, is ſurprizing. It is true, that the nobleſſe who have viſited England with proper recommendations, and have been introduced to the beſt ſociety, do us juſtice: the men of letters alſo, who, from party motives, extol every thing Engliſh, have done us perhaps more than juſtice. But I ſpeak of the French in general; not the lower claſſeſ only, but the gentry of the provinces, and even thoſe who in other reſpects have pretenſions to information. The fact is, living in England is expenſive: a Frenchman, whoſe income here ſupports him as a gentleman, goes over and finds all his habits of oeconomy inſufficient to keep him from exceeding the limits he had preſcribed to himſelf. His decent lodging alone coſts him a great part of his revenue, and obliges him to be ſtrictly parſimonious of the reſt. This drives him to aſſociate chiefly with his own countrymen, to dine at obſcure coffee-houſes, and pay his court to opera-dancers. He ſees, indeed, our theatres, our public walks, the outſide of our palaces, and the inſide of churches: but this gives him no idea of the manners of the people in ſuperior life, or even of eaſy fortune. Thus he goes home, and aſſerts to his untravelled countrymen, that our King and nobility are ill lodged, our churches mean, and that the Engliſh are barbarians, who dine without ſoup, uſe no napkin, and eat with their knives.—I have heard a gentleman of ſome reſpectability here obſerve, that our uſual dinner was an immenſe joint of meat half dreſt, and a diſh of vegetables ſcarcely dreſt at all.—Upon queſtioning him, I diſcovered he had lodged in St. Martin's Lane, had likewiſe boarded at a country attorney's of the loweſt claſs, and dined at an ordinary at Margate.

Some few weeks ago the Marquis de P____ ſet out from Paris in the diligence, and accompanied by his ſervant, with a deſign of emigrating. Their only fellow-traveller was an Engliſhman, whom they frequently addreſſed, and endeavoured to enter into converſation with; but he either remained ſilent, or gave them to underſtand he was entirely ignorant of the language. Under this perſuaſion the Marquis and his valet freely diſcuſſed their affairs, arranged their plan of emigration, and expreſſed, with little ceremony, their political opinions.—At the end of their journey they were denounced by their companion, and conducted to priſon. The magiſtrate who took the information mentioned the circumſtance when I happened to be preſent. Indignant at ſuch an act in an Engliſhman, I enquired his name. You will judge of my ſurprize, when he aſſured me it was the Engliſh Ambaſſador. I obſerved to him, that it was not common for our Ambaſſadors to travel in ſtage-coaches: this, he ſaid, he knew; but that having reaſon to ſuſpect the Marquis, Monſieur l'Ambaſſadeur had had the goodneſs to have him watched, and had taken this journey on purpoſe to detect him. It was not without much reaſoning, and the evidence of a lady who had been in England long enough to know the impoſſibility of ſuch a thing, that I would juſtify Lord G____ from this piece of complaiſance to the Jacobins, and convince the worthy magiſtrate he had been impoſed upon: yet this man is the Profeſſor of Eloquence at a college, is the oracle of the Jacobin ſociety; and may perhaps become a member of the Convention. This ſeems ſo almoſt incredibly abſurd, that I ſhould fear to repeat it, were it not known to many beſides myſelf; but I think I may venture to pronounce, from my own obſervation, and that of others, whoſe judgement, and occaſions of exerciſing it, give weight to their opinions, that the generality of the French who have read a little are mere pedants, nearly unacquainted with modern nations, their commercial and political relation, their internal laws, characters, or manners. Their ſtudies are chiefly confined to Rollin and Plutarch, the deiſtical works of Voltaire, and the viſionary politics of Jean Jaques. Hence they amuſe their hearers with alluſionſ to Caeſar and Lycurgus, the Rubicon, and Thermopylae. Hence they pretend to be too enlightened for belief, and deſpiſe all governments not founded on the Contrat Social, or the Profeſſion de Foi.—They are an age removed from the uſeful literature and general information of the middle claſſeſ in their own country—they talk familiarly of Sparta and Lacedemon, and have about the ſame idea of Ruſſia as they have of Caffraria. Yours.