Travels in France during the years 1814-1815 by Patrick Fraser Tytler (beach read book .txt) 📖

they start at three and four each morning; stop at miserable inns, and if you have heavy baggage, it must be shifted at the locks, which is tedious and expensive. Adieu to all our airy dreams of gliding through Languedoc in these Cleopatrian vessels. They are infested with an astonishing variety of smells; they are exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather; and they are filled with bugs, fleas, and all kinds of bad company. The country to-day, though still very flat, is much improved in beauty. Very fine large meadows, bordered with willows, but too regular. Bullocks as common as mules in the plough. Wheat far advanced, and barley, in some small spots, in the ear. I learnt some curious particulars, if they can be depended upon, concerning this conspiracy of Bonaparte from a Spanish officer, who had taken a place in our cabriolet. He says, that one of the chief means he has employed to create division in France, and to make himself beloved, has been by carrying on a secret correspondence with the Protestants, and persuading them that he will support them against the Catholics; and by representing the King as wishing to oppress them. To the army he has promised, that he will lead them again against the allied Powers, who have triumphantly said they have conquered them; this is a tender point with the French: At the present time, when the troops are deserting their King, and flying to the standard of the usurper, still even the most loyal among the people cannot bear the idea that the allies should assist in opposing him.

We have continued with our coachman, and carry him on to Toulouse. He is an excellent fellow, has a good berlin, with large cabriolet before, and three of the finest mules I ever saw. He takes us at a round pace, from 15 to 20 miles before breakfast, and the rest after it, making up always 30 miles a-day. The pay for this equipage per mile is not much above a franc and a half. We have found it the most comfortable way of travelling for so large a party. He carries all our baggage, amounting to more than 400 pounds, without any additional expence. The country between Pezenas and Beziers, and between Beziers and Narbonne, is richer and more beautiful than any part of Languedoc which we have yet seen. It is divided into fields of wheat, which is now in the ear, divisions of green clover grass, meadows enclosed with rows of willows, and orchards scattered around the little villages. These orchards, which are now all in blossom, increase in number as you approach the town of Narbonne. We have enjoyed to-day another noble view of the distant summits of the Pyrenees, towering into the clouds.——Distance, 34 miles—to Narbonne.

Thursday, 23d.—We left Narbonne at half past five, and have travelled to-day, through a country more ugly and insipid than any in the south; barren hills, low swampy meadows, and dirty villages. There is a total want of peasants houses on the lands; but still a very general cultivation. Ploughs, harrows, and other instruments, a century behind. Fewer vines now, and more wheat. At Moux, one of the police officers read out a number of proclamations, sent by the prefect of the department, exciting the people to exertions in repelling the usurper. The cries of "Vive le Roi" were so faint, that the officer harangued the multitude on their want of proper feeling. He did not, however, gain any thing. One of the mob cried out, that they were not to be forced to cry out "Vive le Roi." Wherever we have gone, I have heard from all ranks that the English have supported Bonaparte, and that they are the instigators of the civil war. In vain I have argued, that if it were our policy to have war with France, why should we have restored the Bourbons? Why made peace? Why wasted men and money in Spain? It is all in vain—they are inveterately obstinate.——Distance 39 miles.

Friday, 24th.—We left Carcassone at seven, as we have but a short journey to-day. Arrived at Castelnaudry at half past five, and found the inn crowded with gentlemen volunteers for the cavalry. The volunteers are fine smart young men, and all well mounted. Their horses very superior to the cavalry horses in general. We passed a cavalry regiment of the line this morning, the 15th dragoons. Horses miserable little long-tailed Highland-like ponies, but seemingly very active. The whole country through which we have travelled since the commencement of our journey in France, is sadly deficient in cattle. We meet with none of these groupes of fine horses and cows, which delight us in looking over the country in England, in almost every field you pass. This want is more particularly remarkable in the south. The country to-day is the same; a total want of trees, and of variety of scenery of any kind. No peasants houses to be seen scattered over the face of the country; the peasantry all crowd into the villages.—Yet there is no want of cultivation. The situation of the lower classes is yet extremely comfortable. The girls are handsome, and always well drest. The men strong and healthy. The young women wear little caps trimmed with lace, and the men broad-brimmed picturesque-looking hats: both have shoes and stockings. The parish churches in this part of France are in a miserable condition. It is no longer here, as in England, that the churches and Curès' houses are distinguished by their neatness. Here, the churches are fallen into ruins; the windows soiled, and covered with cobwebs. The order of the priesthood, from what I have seen, are, I should conceive, little respected.——Distance 29 miles.

Saturday, the 25th.—We left Castelnaudry at five o'clock, and have travelled to-day through a country, which, from Castelnaudry to Toulouse, is uniformly flat and bare, and uninteresting. We were surprised to-day by meeting on the road a party of English friends, who had set out for Bourdeaux, returning by the same road. They informed us, they had heard by private letters, that Bonaparte was at the gates of Paris, on which account they had returned, and were determined to pass into Spain. They told us, that the roads were covered by parties of English flying in every direction; and that all the vessels at Bourdeaux were said to have already sailed for England. It was, however, impossible for us now to turn back; and we continued our route to Bourdeaux with very uncomfortable feelings, anxious lest every moment should confirm the bad news, and put a stop to our progress to the coast, or that, when we arrived, we should find the sea-ports under an embargo. Near Toulouse, are seen a few country seats, which relieve the eye; but the town is old and ugly, and situated, to all appearance, in a swampy flat. We shall see more of it to-morrow. The road from Castelnaudry to this is very bad, the worst we have seen yet in the south of France; it has been paved, but is much broken up.——Distance 41 miles.

Sunday, 26th.—It has become necessary now to change all our plans of travelling. Upon visiting our banker this morning, I received from him a full confirmation of the bad news—Napoleon is in Paris, and again seated on the throne of France. Our banker has procured for us, and another party, forming in all 29 English, a small common country boat, covered over only with a sail. In this miserable conveyance we embarked this afternoon at two, and arrived the first night at Maste. Our passage down the Garonne is most rapid, and as the weather is delightful, the conveyance is pleasant enough; but our minds are in such a state we cannot enjoy any thing. To-morrow I shall continue more connectedly.

Monday, the 27th.—We are now gliding down the Garonne with the utmost rapidity and steadiness. The scene before us presents the most perfect tranquillity. The weather which we now enjoy is heavenly,—the air soft and warm,—and the sun shedding an unclouded radiance upon the glassy waters of the Garonne, in whose bosom the romantic scenery through which we pass, is reflected in the most perfect beauty. On each side, are the most lovely banks covered with hanging orchards, whose trees, in full blossom, reach to the brink of the river. We have passed several small villages very beautifully situated; and where we have not met with these, the country is more generally scattered with the cottages of the peasantry, which are seen at intervals, peeping through the woods which cover the banks. As our boat passes, the villagers flock from their doors, and place themselves in groups on the rocks which overhang the river, or crowd into the little meadows which are interspersed between the orchards and the gardens. At the moment in which I now write, the sun is setting upon a scene so perfectly still and beautiful, that it is impossible to believe we are now in the devoted country, experiencing, at this very hour, a terrible revolution; the most disastrous political convulsion, perhaps, which it has ever yet undergone. In former times, the changes from the tranquillity it enjoyed under a monarchial government, to the chaos of republicanism, and from that to the sullen stagnation of a firm-rooted military despotism, were gradual; they were the work of time. But the unbounded ambition of Bonaparte, after a series of years, had brought on his downfall, by a natural course of events, and France had begun to taste and to relish the blessings of peace. On a sudden, that fallen Colossus is raised again, and its dark shadow has over-spread the brightening horizon. Could it be credited, that within one short month, that man whom we conceived detested in France, should have journeyed from one extremity of that kingdom to another, without meeting with the slightest resistance? I say journeyed, for he had but a handful of men, whom, at almost every town, he left behind him, and he proceeded on horseback, or in his carriage, with much less precaution than at any former period of his life. France has now nothing to hope, but from the heavy struggle that will, I trust, immediately take place between her and the allied powers. It will be a terrible, but, I trust, short struggle, if the measures are prompt: but if he is allowed time to levy a new conscription; if even he has sufficient time to collect the hordes of disbanded robbers whom his abdication let loose in France, he possesses the same means of conducting a long war that he ever possessed. The idea so current in France, that this event will only occasion a civil war, is unworthy of a moment's attention. Every inhabitant in every town he passed, was said to be against him. We heard of nothing but the devoted loyalty of the national guards; but at Grenoble, at Lyons, and at Paris, was there found a man to discharge his musket? No! against a small number of regular and veteran troops, no French militia, no volunteers will ever fight, or if they do, it will be but for a moment; each city will yield in its turn.

The country is improving; the banks, in many places, are beautiful; for some days past we have been in the country of wheat, but now we are again arrived among the vines. Very little commerce on this river, although celebrated as possessing more than any one in France. It reminds me of the state of commerce in India,—boats gliding down rapidly with the stream, and toiling up in tracking. The shape, also, of the boats is the same. We have this moment passed a boat full of English, and the sailors have shouted out, that the white flag is no longer flying at Bourdeaux. If the town has declared for the ex-Emperor,