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

not need either expensive repair or gay furniture; but comfort is unknown in France. On entering a small house in one of the villages, we find the people huddled together as they are said to do in some parts of England and Scotland. Men, women, dogs, cats, pigs, goats, &c.—no glass in the windows—doors shattered—truckle-beds—a few earthen pots; and with all this filth, we find, perhaps, half a dozen velvet or brocade covered chairs; a broken mirror, or a marble slab-table; these are the articles plundered in former days of terror and revolution. All caffés and hotels in the villages are thus furnished.

The streets in almost every town in France are without pavement. Would any one believe, that in the great city, as the French call it, there is a total want of this convenience? On this subject, Mercier, in his Tableaux de Paris, has this remark: [42]"Dès qu'on est sur le pavè de Paris, ou voit que le peuple n'y fait pas les loix;—aucune commoditè pour les gens de pied—point de trottoirs—le peuple semble un corps separè des autres ordres de l'etat—les riches et les grands qui ont equipage ont le droit de l'ecraser ou de le mutiler dans les rues—cent victimes expirent par annee sous les rues des voiture."

Besides the want of pavement to protect us from the carriages, and to keep our feet dry, we have to encounter the mass of filth and dirt, which the nastiness of the inhabitants deposits, and which the police suffers to remain. The state of Edinburgh in its worst days, as described by our English neighbours, was never worse than what you meet with in France. The danger of walking the streets at night is very great, and the perfumes of Arabia do not prevail in the morning.

The churches in all the villages are falling to ruin, and in many instances are converted into granaries, barracks, and hospitals; manufacturing establishments are also in ruins, scarcely able to maintain their workmen; their owners have no money for the repair of their buildings. The following description of the changes that have taken place in the French villages, is better than any thing I can give; and from what I have seen, it is perfectly correct:

[43]"Avant la revolution, le village se composait de quatre mille habitans. Il fournissait pour sa part, au service general de l'Eglise et des hopitaux, ainsi qu'aux besoins de l'instruction cinq eclesiastiques, deux sœurs de la charité, et trois maitres d'ecol. Ces derniers sont remplacé par un maitre d'equitation, un maitre de dessin et deux maitres de musique. Sur huit fabriques d'etoffes de laisne et de coton, il ne reste plus qu'une seule. En revanche il s'est etabli deux caffés, un tabaque, un restaurat, et un billiard qui prosperent d'une maniere surprenante. On comptait autrefois quarante charretiers de labour; vingt-cinq d'entre eux sont devenus couriers, piqueurs, et cochès. Ce vuide est remplie par autant de femmes, qui dirigent la charette et qui pour se delasser de tems en tems menent au marché des voitures de paille ou de charbon. Le nombre de charpentiers, de maçons, et d'autres artisans est diminué à peu pres de moitie. Mais le prix de tout les genres de main d'œuvre ayant aussi augmenté de moitie—cela revient au meme—et la compensation se retablit. Une espece d'individus que le village fournit en grande abondance, et dans des proportions trop fortes ce sont les domestiques de luxe et de livrée. Pour peu que cela dure on achevera de depeupler le campagne de gens utiles qui le cultivent pour peupler les villes d'individus oisifs et corrompus. Beaucoup de femmes et de jeunes filles, qui n'etaient que des couturiers, et des servantes de femmes, ont aussi trouvè de l'avancement dans la capitale, et dans les grandes villes. Elles sont devenues femmes de chambre—brodeuses—et marchandes des modes. On dirait que le luxe a entreprit de pomper la jeunesse; toutes les idèes et tous les regards sont tournès vers lui à aucun epoque anterieure le contingent du village en hommes de loi—huissiers—etudiants en droits, mediçins, poetes et artistes, ne s'etait eleve au dela de trois ou quatre; il s'eleve maintenant à soixante deux, et une chose qu'on n'aurait jamais su imaginer autrefois c'est qu'il y a dans le nombre autant de peintres, de poetes, de comediens, de danseuses de theatre et de musiciens ambulans, qu'une ville de quatre vingt mille hommes aurait pu en fournir il y a trente ou quarante ans."

Another mark of the poverty of France at present occurs to me: In every town, but particularly in the large cities, we are struck with numbers of idle young men and women who are seen in the streets. Now that the army no longer carries away the "surplus population of France," (to use the language of Bonaparte), the number of these idlers is greatly increased. The great manufacturing concerns have long ceased to employ them. France is too poor to continue the public works which Napoleon had every where begun. The French have no money for the improvement of their estates, the repair of their houses, or the encouragement of the numerous trades and professions which thrive by the costly taste and ever-varying fashion of a luxurious and rich community. Being on the subject of taste and fashion, I must not forget that I noticed the dress and amusements of the French as offering a mark of their poverty. The great meanness of their dress must particularly strike every English traveller; for I believe there is no country in the world where all ranks of people are so well dressed as in England. It is not indeed astonishing to see the nobility, the gentry, and those of the liberal professions well clothed, but to see every tradesman, and every tradesman's apprentice, wearing the same clothes as the higher orders; to see every servant as well, if not better clothed than his master, affords a clear proof of the riches of a country. In the higher ranks among the French, a gentleman has indeed a good suit of clothes, but these are kept for wearing in the evening on the promenade, or at a party. In the morning, clothes of the coarsest texture, and often much worn, or even ragged, are put on. If you pay a lady or gentleman a morning visit, you find them so metamorphosed as scarcely to be known; the men in dirty coarse cloth great coats, wide sackcloth trowsers and slippers; the women in coarse calico wrappers, with a coloured handkerchief tied round their hair. All the little gaudy finery they possess is kept for the evening, but even then there is nothing either costly or elegant, or neat, as with us. In their amusements also is the poverty of the people manifested. A person residing in Paris, and who had travelled no further, would think that this observation was unjust, for in Paris there is no want of amusements; the theatres are numerous, and all other species of entertainment are to be found. But in the smaller towns, one little dirty theatre, ill lighted, with ragged scenery, dresses, and a beggarly company of players, is all that is to be found. The price of admittance is also very low. The poverty of the people will not admit of the innumerable descriptions of amusements which we find in every little town in England: amateur concerts are sometimes got up, but for want of funds they seldom last long. My subscription to one of these at the town where we resided, was five francs per month, or about a shilling each concert. This may be taken as a specimen of the price of French amusements.

STATE OF RELIGION.

The order of the priesthood in France had suffered greatly in the revolution. They were everywhere scouted and reviled, either for being supporters of the throne, or for being rich, or for being moderès. Napoleon found them in this condition; he never more than tolerated them, and latterly, by his open attack and cruel treatment of their chief, he struck the last and severest blow against the church. Unable to bear the insults of the military, deprived of the means of support, many of the clergy either emigrated or concealed themselves. In the principal towns, indeed, the great establishments took the oath of allegiance to the tyrant; but the inferior clergy and the country curates met nowhere with encouragement, and were allowed to starve, or to pick up a scanty pittance by teaching schools in a community who laughed at education, at morality, and religion.

Many of the churches, convents, and monasteries were demolished; many were converted into barracks, storehouses, and hospitals. We saw but one village church in our travels through France, and even in the larger towns we found the places of public worship in a state of dilapidation. I went to see the palace of the Archbishop at Aix; out of a suite of most magnificent rooms, about 30 in number, one miserable little chamber was furnished for his highness. In the rest, the grandeur of former days was marked by the most beautiful tapestry on some part of the walls, while other parts had been laid bare and daubed over with caps of liberty, and groupes of soldiers and guillotines, and indecent inscriptions. The nitches for statues, and the frames of pictures, were seen empty. The objects which formerly filled them were dashed to pieces or burnt.

The conduct of the people at the churches marked the low state of religion: the higher ranks talked in whispers, and even at times loudly, on their family concerns, their balls and concerts. The peasantry and lower ranks behaved with more decency, but seemed to think the service a mere form; they came in at all hours, and staid but a few minutes; went out and returned.

We had in our small society some very respectable clergymen; but I am sorry to say, we had one instance shewing the immoral tendency of the celibacy of the clergy.

Very few of the convents remain. I have detailed our visit to one of them in my journal; we found every thing decent and well conducted, but not with any thing like the strictness and rigour we expected. At Aix there was a small establishment of Ursulines, a very strict order; there was also a penitentiary establishment of Magdalenes, the rules of which were said by the people of Aix to be of the most inhuman nature. The caterers for the establishment were ordered to buy only spoilt provisions for food; fasting was prescribed for weeks together; and the miserable young women lay on boards a foot in breadth, with scarce any clothing. Their whole dress, when they went out, consisted of a shift and gown of coarsest hard blanket stuff. They were employed in educating young children. I once met a party of them walking out with their charges, who were chanting hymns and decorating these miserable walking skeletons with flowers.

We had also at Aix a very celebrated preacher named De Coq. I went to hear him, and, though much struck with his fluency of language, did not much admire his style of preaching; there was too much of cant and declamation, and at times he made a most intolerable noise, roaring as if he were addressing an army. This man, however, succeeded in drawing tears from the audience; but this did not surprise me, for it is astonishing how easily this is accomplished. This reminds me of a scene which I witnessed one evening at the theatre at Aix. We were seated next an old Marquise with whom we were acquainted. The tragedy of Meropè, and particularly the part of the son Egistus, was butchered in a very superior style; the Marquise turned to my sister, and said to her, "Oh how touching! how does it happen that it does not make you cry? But you shall see me cry in a minute; I